8. Margot
eight
Margot
Ican't look at Dante without remembering the heat of the roof rushing back to my skin, making my cheeks burn hotter than the food set out in front of us.
Every time his heavy gaze locks onto mine across the table, my toes curl into the floorboards and my thighs press tightly together, trying to trap the ache he left behind.
I'd washed away his touch, scrubbing away every hint of my arousal to pretend I didn't enjoy it as much as I had. Despite my efforts, I can still feel my stomach clenching in his presence, and my skin prickling up with goosebumps every time I catch his mouth twitching upward.
For a man who spends all his time scowling, he's been learning how to smirk from time to time.
Madalyn is completely oblivious to why I'm suddenly so flushed, but she isn't blind. Her eyes keep darting between us, narrowing into suspicious slits as she comes up with her own conclusion.
This is the first time our captor has sat down at the table to eat with us. The longer she squints at his cool, unbothered expression, the more my stomach twists. She won't stop digging until she uncovers the truth.
How would she feel if she discovered I let our captor touch me? That I encouraged it?
She'd either be jumping with delight that I now have something close to what she does, or she'd be giving me a good shake while telling me that I deserve someone much better.
I'm not the kind of person that would keep secrets from my sister, but I think this is something I need to keep to myself for now. Or, she'll be able to pick up the signs because it's pretty obvious that neither of us can keep our eyes off the other.
Even now, the tension seems thick enough to cut.
"So, what did you two talk about?" Clueless to what she's truly asking about, she snags a bite of meat while I cough on mine. "You were gone for a while."
I didn't even consider thinking up an excuse, let alone a flat-out lie to satisfy her.
Thankfully, Dante straightens and clears his throat like he was expecting it. Though, rather than pulling something out of thin air, his answer comes quickly enough to make me remember that he did have a goal when he'd stepped onto the roof, panic aside.
"I was trying to convince her to talk to me about her past, but it seems she would rather discuss it with you here," he explains, his answer smoothing over with ease.
Wait, what?
Confused by what he is talking about, I straighten up when his eyes fall on me once more. Is that what he actually wanted to talk about before we got distracted with each other?
"Now that you are together, is that okay?" He tilts his head, looking far too innocent for the can of worms he's trying to open up.
"Uh..." Feeling like if I fight him on this, it'll reveal that there was far more that happened up above. Against my better judgment, I nod my head, wondering if I've walked straight into a trap. "Sure."
Already having a feeling that I know what he's going to ask about, I try to prepare myself a little better. Assuming after a few days of him looking into me, he'll know enough to detect a lie from the truth.
"You mentioned you were kidnapped once before." Looking unbothered by the topic, he sits back, leaving his food forgotten. "Want to tell me about that?"
Madalyn and I exchange a glance before I set down my fork, trying to relax. "You want to bring up an old memory like that?"
He nods, and deep down, I think I know why he's curious. While it has a little to do with Madalyn, it has far more to do with me. More to do with the kind of man our father was before he climbed his way up the political path.
"It's not his business," my sister murmurs to me. "You don't have to tell him anything if it makes you uncomfortable."
Appreciating her more than ever, I know if I talk about it, if I tell the truth, she'll be learning things as well.
Despite being at my side at the time, she wasn't aware of what was going down. Not like I had been.
Dread settles deep in my stomach as he doesn't try to interrupt or try to shoot her down for trying to get in the way. He waits patiently, his brows coming together in concentration.
I've tried my hardest to forget about that life-altering day, and now, it feels like I have to take a peek back into a wound that's long scarred over.
"What do you already know?" Chewing on my lip, I figure it'll be easier to correct what lies he knows than to tell him both stories. "Tell me that much, and we'll go from there."
While I know the truth, our father has painted his own telling of what happened. He'd taken the steps to cover up everything. Which one does Dante know?
"You both were kidnapped at the age of twelve. Madalyn was discovered alive, but you went missing." He taps his fingers against the table, his face remaining stoic. "Kidnappers were never caught, but they found your body rotting in the woods. Wrote it off as foul play."
Madalyn has a harder time controlling her grimace. I, on the other hand, keep my face a blank slate.
Having mastered not showing how much that storyline has altered my life, I should be grateful I've had enough time to perfect such a skill.
"So, for someone who died twelve years ago, you're looking pretty healthy and alive." Looking between us, his frown grows. "Help me understand why your disappearance isn't getting mentioned anywhere. Why hasn't your father corrected the death claim?"
He asks the question casually, but his eyes tell a different story.
There is a sharp, hidden desperation cutting through his usual calm—a sudden tension in his jaw that makes it feel personal.
It is as if the cards I’ve been dealt aren't just a tragic backstory to him, but an insult he wants to avenge.
"We were kidnapped," Madalyn confirms, "because I tried to run away from home and Margot followed."
Her face falls, and I can already tell she's beating herself up on the inside. This is one of those things she struggles to forgive herself for, despite my efforts to reassure her that I hold no ill will toward her.
"But our father believes I put her in danger by convincing her to leave in the first place," I intercept, the old, bitter reminder of his anger rising in my throat. "Those men were caught," I continue, though my voice betrays me, wavering on the final word. "They were caught when we were found."
The cops who were involved were dirty, taking the enjoyment of abusing their power because of the money paid under the table. There's no telling how many people were paid to look the other way, to falsify reports.
"Did they do anything to you?"
The question hits me like a punch to my gut, making it hard to breathe evenly. Tearing my eyes from his, I hesitate on my answer.
"Not physically, no. I don't think so, anyway. Outside of the usual roughness that comes with a kidnapping."
Maybe I shouldn't say usual. Dante kidnapped us, and there was nothing rough about it. Sure, he'd launched me out a window, but I'd been too distracted by his ability to pick me up to actually suffer from it. I have to clear my throat to continue.
"But because we were taken, my life had taken a drastic turn. Mentally? I think there might be some damage there." Forcing out a laugh, it weighs heavily with the silence coming from the other two.
I don't want to spell out what kind of damage could take place. I spent years of my life in isolation while Madalyn got to live in the light.
When we still looked truly identical, I could stand in her spot for the first couple of years, but once puberty hit, I may as well have been sentenced to house arrest.
"Do you know who they were?" Dante continues, easily seeing that the topic has left me uncomfortable.
I shake my head again, because at the time, I didn't. He lets out a slow, frustrated sigh when Madalyn gives him the same response.
"Sex traffickers, if you'll believe it," Dante says, watching my reaction like a hawk. "Do you remember why they grabbed you?"
"They wanted money," Madalyn answers immediately, frowning at what she assumes is an obvious question.
But Dante doesn't look at Madalyn. His eyes remain glued to mine, waiting for the real answer. Under the weight of his stare, I feel myself shrink smaller in my seat, the air in the room suddenly turning suffocatingly hot.
"They were angry at our father," I whisper, the truth slipping out before I can stop it. "They wanted revenge because he betrayed them."
Madalyn snaps her head toward me, her eyes wide with total confusion. She doesn't understand. She has been fed the pretty lies for twelve years, while I have been drowning in the truth.
Dante nods, his face grim. He already knows the truth of who our father really is. He knows enough to take him down. If I told anyone else the truth of everything, what our father had to do to keep what he did to those men a secret, they'd call me a liar.
After all, there's no way the man who is in all those full smiling, ribbon-cutting photos could possibly have a dark side to him.
"You can call me a liar if you'd like, Princess, but your father is a piece of shit.
He worked his way up to his position on the same blood of the people who blindly support him now.
Those men who kidnapped you? Call them coworkers who got the short end of the stick.
" Dante explains it to her before I can even try to think of how to soften the blow.
She may not like our father because he revealed his ugly side toward her love life, but that's because he doesn't see us as his children to love after.
I've always been the mistake he was forced to cover when he had to make those kidnappers disappear.
My "death" was a distraction, and it worked perfectly.
Madalyn is his jewel. A beauty to show off to the right people to gain the attention he needs. While I had my guesses of what he wanted to do with her, he confirmed it by his reaction of finding out she was with Brandon. He'd become furious to the point of making my sister sob for two hours.
It wasn't just because he'd sent her boyfriend away, banishing him from the compound. No, she got a glimpse of who our father really is.
Nodding my head to confirm his claim, my sister suddenly looks the most troubled.
"He told me they wanted money. They always want money." Her brows furrow together. "I didn't know."
She couldn't have, and I've never wanted her to shoulder the weight of what happened in the past. After all, I'd accepted my fate for what it was because even if I had to suffer, she could live her life to the fullest.
While Madalyn's wrapping her mind around things, Dante's moving on.
"I'd like your help, Margot. While I can admit that I've got enough on him to make him hesitate on dropping out of this election, I think you're what I've been waiting for. An opportunity to finally make him cave."
Me? But Madalyn's the special one.
"What... did you have in mind?" Already knowing I'll outright refuse to do anything that'll put Madalyn or myself in danger, my hesitation rings immediately.
"I want to bring you back from the dead. Uncover this crime with the very victim who he'd hid away." His stare feels more intense, almost like he can see through me entirely. "All you have to do is say yes, and I'll take care of it. You won't ever have to worry about being hidden again."
Madalyn looks at me worried, her face saying it all.
If I say yes, things will never be the same again. At this point, I can't even tell if it's possible for things to go back to normal, even if his plan fails.
As much as I love her, I can't say I haven't harbored a simmering grudge against my father.
"What will happen to me if I say yes? I'll have nowhere to go."
I'll have nothing. No one to lean on but my sister, but she's as much of a tool as I am. We're both in a tough spot.
There's a shift in his expression, and his lips part like the answer is already there, but he can't say it.
Before he can give me any kind of reassurance, there's a low vibration.
He pauses and pulls out his phone. Looking at the screen, I can see the moment annoyance takes over. Answering it without even a proper greeting, his eyes move over to Madalyn after a minute.
"Don't let him draw attention. Keep him quiet for as long as you can.
" He sighs heavily before standing. Ignoring our stares, he sweeps up his dinner, already accepting that he won't be able to finish it.
"Send one of the prospects here. One who can handle himself.
I'll need transport that doesn't look suspicious. "
We look at each other, confused at what is going on.
When he ends the call, he curses and pinches the bridge of his nose. Appearing frustrated, he turns his gaze back onto us.
"Finish up eating and get ready. We're leaving."
"Where are we going?" Worry coats my voice, and I can't help but immediately think of the worst-case scenario.
We've been found.
Such a thought should worry me. But deep down, I already know the truth.
These last few days have felt freer than the last few years of my life.
"Someone is threatening to blow the whistle on us. We're going to go make sure he stays quiet." He motions to my plate of food. "Hurry. I don't want to risk anything happening."
Unsure of why we need to go with him, we do as we're told.
Dreading the future and the risks it entails, I'm left with these emerging feelings and forced to figure out how I'll deal with them.