33. Love Me Until Death Do Us Part
CHAPTER 33
LOVE ME UNTIL DEATH DO US PART
Paloma
“What are you doing here?” Red creeps up his neck just above the collar of his tuxedo shirt. “This is not a place for you.”
“I can see that.” I step toward him.
For the first time in my life, I don’t recognize the man in front of me. He looks tired and defeated. But more than that, I don’t see love in his eyes. He’s still mad at me for being with Archer. And I can’t even stand here and tell him I haven’t been with Archer since the last time we spoke. On the contrary, Archer and I have taken our physical relationship further than I thought was possible.
“I think you should go, Paloma. Before someone sees you.” His gaze travels down my body. “And gets that wrong idea.”
“I don’t care about all those people out there.” I point toward the living room on the other side of the door. I try not to picture all those groups playing with their black swan or the group upstairs fucking that woman. The image of Hunter going upstairs with a sub cuts through my mind as I realize that Dad was in this room not five minutes ago doing the same thing to two black swans. “Is that what she was to you? A whore to share with your friends?”
“What?” He squints at me in disbelief. In all my twenty-five years, I have never talked to Dad in that tone. I’ve always been the doting daughter, even when at times I found it hard to be. “Who are you talking about?”
“Mom,” I say through gritted teeth.
The indignant look in his eyes vanishes instantly, and it’s replaced by concern. He glances back to his chair then down to his tuxedo as if only now realizing that maybe I’ve been standing here longer than he thought. It’s sheer luck that I didn’t come in ten minutes earlier. I don’t think I could ever see Dad the same way if I had seen him with a sub.
Right now, my brain feels like it’s going to implode with the many contradictions assaulting it. My devoted father organized an orgy party for his donors? Or maybe he didn’t organize it personally, but he’s at the very least, a willing participant. And that alone makes me see him under a different light, a much brighter light showcasing all his faults.
“Well? Is that what she was to you?” I point at his chair. “Did you even love her?”
“I don’t understand where all this is coming from. If the party has you at odds, you should leave. Politics have never been your forte, Paloma.” His condescending tone falls heavy on my chest and makes it hard to breathe. “Which reminds me, I think it’s time you returned to your dancing. I will discuss it with Pierre on Monday.”
What? Is he really going to stand there and pretend all of this is okay? Or worse, that me being uncomfortable with an orgy party is the problem? I wrack my brain for the words that will make him understand. But I feel myself losing this argument with him yet again. This is how he always handled my concerns. Or rather, this is how he always dismissed them. I grab my wrist and squeeze it tight.
Why am I here? Tears pool in my eyes and make the whole room blurry. No, this is all on him. He lied to me. I stick with that simple fact. Everything else is too difficult to comprehend.
“You lied to me,” I insist. “The woman in the portrait. That’s not my mother.”
He glares at me as the red from his neck fuses up into his cheeks. “What gave you that ridiculous idea?”
“I looked her up.” I didn’t have time to do any kind of research. After I got a hold of Freya’s phone, I came downstairs to rejoin the group and pretend everything was fine. I had to lie to Archer so he wouldn’t get suspicious. And now I’m glad I did because this conversation with Dad was way overdue. “The woman in the portrait doesn’t exist.”
Another lie. But I really don’t want to get Archer’s mom involved. What would Dad do if he found out the woman in the portrait is a real person? And not only that, she’s Archer’s mom.
He blows out an exasperated breath. “It’s very unbecoming when you get like this, dear. Go home. Now.”
“No.” I step closer to him. “Who’s my mother? Why are you lying about her portrait? And all those pictures of her? How did you get them? How did you get Sole to lie for you all these years? She’s been feeding me stories about Mom since I was four. Was any of that real?”
“Where are you getting this from?” His jaw clenches. “How dare you come in here and accuse me of lying. I am your father. You will show me respect.”
“Why did you lie?” I stomp my foot in frustration.
“I didn’t.” He glares at me.
Anger pools in the pit of my stomach. This is not how I expected the conversation to go. I thought he would offer a reasonable explanation, but instead, he’s doubling down on his lies. He lied. I repeat that simple fact in my head. He lied. He lied. I dig my nails into my wrist.
“Months without dancing are taking a toll on you.” He looks at me like I’m a wounded animal. “You know how your mental health isn’t the best. I will talk to Pierre on Monday. Now go home to your husband, Paloma, before you make me lose my patience. You don’t want that, do you?”
I startle at his words, and the underlying threat. The last time Dad lost his temper I was in high school. I missed school for a whole week because he didn’t want people to see the bruises on my face.
But I came here to get answers.
He lied.
He lied.
“I met Freya Archer.” I say louder than I meant to. “That’s the woman in the portrait. She’s not my mother. She told me that herself. In fact, she was offended to be associated with you. Why is that?”
Tears stream down my cheeks. I can’t hold it anymore. The barrier I had carefully constructed to keep all those random thoughts at bay comes crushing down in an instant. Dad is not the man I thought he was. I can’t lie to myself anymore. It’s all there. All the dots dance around in my head, waiting for me to put them in the right order. If Dad had Freya’s portrait, is it because he knew her? Obviously, she knew him well enough to hate him, same as Archer. So how did Dad come to be in possession of Freya’s portrait? Did he steal it? But why? Why tell me she’s my mother?
“Why did you lie about who my mother is?” I ask again.
“I didn’t lie about who your mother is. Her name is Clara de Armas. I met her at the theatre. She was a beautiful dancer. Everyone desired her. But she only wanted me.” The greed in his eyes makes me shuffle back. “She got pregnant with you a year after we met. So I married her. You know the stories as well as I do.”
“Why lie about what she looks like?” I ask.
“Because she had a troubled past. Before she met me, she slept with all the theater patrons. She lived in a rat-infested building. I made her the Swan Queen.” He points at himself. “Everything she was she owed to me. I made her.”
“It doesn’t make any sense.” I blink fast. “You didn’t have to hide her face from me.”
“Yes, I did. I didn’t want you finding a picture of her somewhere and go digging on your own.” He stalks closer to me. “I wanted to spare you the heartache of finding out what she was before she met me.”
“You call her a whore every chance you get.” I swallow. “I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out she slept with patrons for money, Dad.”
“It’s one thing to know and another to see it with your own eyes.” His grinds his teeth. “I saved her. I made her.”
“Is she really dead?” I meet his gaze. Something like guilt flashes in his eyes. My heart races. Since I met Freya, I’ve been so concerned about not knowing Mom’s face, I didn’t stop to consider that she might be alive. “Is she? Dad, please answer.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “She died in a car accident like I told you. You were in the back seat. You survived. But she didn’t.”
That part I knew to be true. The horrible memories of that accident still haunt my dreams. I clearly see a woman, Mom, her profile covered in soot and red streaks. I know she’s my mom because of how tight she holds on to my hand. The pain and panic in her voice makes it hurt everywhere. She wants to protect me, but she can’t because she’s too tired from running. I’m tired too. And all I can think about is how my pink ballet shoes are smeared with red paint.
I don’t realize there’s blood everywhere until I wake up. Every time, the dream is the same. I’ve done enough therapy to know that my nightmares are broken pieces of a memory four-year-old me couldn’t process at the time. It’s all locked away. Every time I try to look inside, my whole-body hurts.
I glance down at my wrist and the fresh cuts there. Dad glares at me because he hates it when I do that. It’s messy, and it makes us look weak. Using the tulle from my skirt, I wipe at the blood. I wince at the pain, but it doesn’t matter. The pain doesn’t mean anything.
“I’m calling Sole. She’ll take you home.” Dad grabs my right upper arm, so I stop messing with my wrist. I’m shaking, and that makes it hard for me to think straight. I had more questions for him, but I can’t sort through them now. He hugs me to him. “You don’t have to go back to that man. You’re coming home, Paloma. It’s over.”
“No, Daddy.” I step away from him. “I’m going home to Archer. He’s my husband.”
“He doesn’t deserve you.” His jaw clenches. “He may have all the money in the world, but he doesn’t own you. I’m your father. You belong to me. I’m?—”
The commotion outside makes him look away and stand at attention. I wipe my tears and focus on the angry voices and many gasps. Dad pulls me aside, but before he can get to the door, it bursts open.
Archer crowds the threshold. His tuxedo shirt has blood stains that probably came from his busted lip. Did he fight his way here?
“Paloma.” That single word carries so much regret and longing. “I’m sorry.”
He’s sorry? Why? Right. Because he stole the pink diamond from me. I turn to face Dad, who’s looking at Archer like he’s a ghost. Archer prowls toward me. “Let’s go home. I will tell you everything.”
“Paloma.” Dad puts up his hands. “You’re coming home with me.”
“The hell she is.” Archer purses his lips. “My wife is coming with me.”
“This whole farce is over.” Dad steps in my direction. When Archer blocks him, Dad calls for his bodyguard. “The marriage was a bad idea. You don’t have legal recourse to enforce the contract she signed.”
“No, I don’t.” Archer smirks. “But she made a vow to me, to love me until death do us part. Whether you like it or not, Paloma is my wife. And she wants to be with me.”
“She detests you. The only reason she’s with you is to protect me. But I’m releasing her from that promise right now.” Dad moves to the side to look at me. “Come with me, Paloma, and all is forgiven. I’ll tell you anything you want to know about your mother. I have her pictures. The real ones.”
A heavy weight lifts off my chest. He finally admitted that he lied about the pictures. Hearing him actually speak the truth makes me smile because I was beginning to think I was crazy for calling him a liar. But I’m not. He lied. I lift my head to look at Archer. Dad’s also admitting that Freya isn’t my mother. Archer is not my half-brother.
“Paloma.” Archer cups my face. “Don’t listen to him. He’ll just lie some more. He’s been lying to everyone for so long, I seriously doubt he remembers what’s real and what’s not. Please believe me when I tell you, your father is dangerous.”
“Archer.” I sob and bury my face in the nook of his neck and shoulder. In this moment, I realize that I don’t care about anything. I only care about being with Archer. But we were never meant to be. “Archer.” I repeat his name because what I want to say to him, I can’t say in front of Dad.
He nods. As always, he can read my thoughts. “Let’s go home. We’ll talk. I will indulge every one of your questions.”
“Okay.” I grip his biceps. “I have a car outside.”
“No.” Dad blocks the door. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”
“Step aside, Maurice.” Archer puts emphasis on Dad’s first name. I don’t miss how Dad winces as if his own name is the biggest insult. Archer takes my hand. “My wife and I are leaving.”
He shoves Dad out of the way and ushers me out. Dad stays frozen in place glaring at the floor. I can’t even find a reason to feel sorry for him. He brought this on himself. He wasn’t wrong when he said I went to Archer to protect him. But I stayed with Archer because I’m in love with him.
I plan on being mad at Archer for a very long time for putting me through hell with the auction. But for now, I just want to go home with him. I want to forget all the terrible things Dad said about Mom and his reasons for hiding her real face.
Mom couldn’t have been so bad. She loved me. Sole told me so. Even if she also lied about the portrait. I know in my bones that she never lied about who Mom really was. I know without a shadow of a doubt, that Sole loves me as if I were her own daughter.
The minute we emerge from the study, Dad’s guests turn to look at us. They all seem shocked at Archer’s violent behavior. As if they can’t fathom such a thing. Hunter is among them, glaring at us with murder in his eyes. But Archer doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arm around my waist and ushers me toward the front door. He must’ve done quite a number on them if no one dares block his path, not even Dad’s security detail. They all move out of the way, not exactly afraid of him, but afraid of catching his wrath.
All these people are here because they were invited to a sex party. They came here to play with subs dressed as the black swan. And still, they have the gall to stand there and judge Archer for punching his way through to get to me.
“The car is that way.” I point in the opposite direction he’s taking us.
He considers something for a second, then nods. “Yeah, let’s take that car.”
I don’t even have to tell him which car I drove. He recognizes his own sports Audi. He walks me to the passenger side, but instead of opening the door, he pins me with his body and bends down to kiss me.
His body heat feels like coming home. Desire rushes through me. I want to tell him what I saw in the house and how it made me feel. I know he won’t judge me. Instead, he’ll call me his insatiable little dove. My love for him flutters in my chest. I let it engulf me and lull my senses until it washes away all the bad from tonight. I will never want anyone else but him.
“Don’t ever leave me again,” he mutters in between kisses.
“I don’t regret coming here.” I kiss him back. “I see him now. I see it. All the things you were trying to tell me about him. I see them.”
“I’m so sorry.” He cups my neck. “I wanted to tell you everything.”
“Then tell me.” I wrap my arms around his waist. “You used me. Didn’t you?”
“I did.” He nods.
“Why?”
“You haven’t figured it out yet?” He asks sliding the pad of his thumb over my lips.
“I think I have.” Tears well up in my eyes. “Say it. Out loud.”
He shakes his head, clenching his jaw. He agrees with me. Once we both admit what we are to each other, will we be able to forgive? Or rather, can Archer ever forgive me for being the daughter of the man who brutally killed his father?
“My dad killed yours.” Tears stream down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
“I told you before. You’re not the one who needs to repent.” His mouth claims mine again in a desperate kiss. “Will you ever forgive me for putting your through hell?”
“I don’t know.” I slip my hand inside his tuxedo jacket. “The auction was pretty awful. But not as awful as all the nights I had to sleep alone.”
“Hmm.” He nuzzles my neck. “I’m more than ready to spend the rest of my life groveling until you forgive me.”
“The rest of your life?” I smile up at him, loving the idea of living one happy life with him. “Archer, I?—”
“Get away from her.” Hunter stands in the middle of the narrow street, legs wide apart, chest out, as if he’s here to fight Archer in a pistol duel. “Paloma.” He snaps his fingers. “We’re going home. I’ve had enough of this asshole treating you like you’re his own private whore.”
“You know, I regret breaking your nose.” Archer braces his hands on my waist and moves me behind him. “I considered breaking your fingers for texting my wife. But now, I realize I should’ve clipped your tongue.”
“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.” He pulls out a gun.
“Fuck,” Archer says under his breath, cutting a glance to me to make sure he’s shielding me completely. “You don’t want to do this. You’ll spend the rest of your life in jail. The Senator won’t be able to help you. His days are numbered. And you know that.”
“Maybe. But I will still get the satisfaction of wiping that know-it-all smirk off your face.” Hunter lifts his gun a little higher as if aiming for Archer’s head.
I can’t stand the thought of Archer getting hurt because of me, or for any other reason. Hunter’s jealousy isn’t Archer’s fault. When Archer was jealous of him, he used his fists, not a fucking weapon.
“Put that away.” I step in front of Archer. “No one has to get hurt. I’ll go with you. We can talk this through.” Please, I say in my head. I don’t want to beg Hunter for mercy. But I’m one second away from doing so. Archer is my life. I can’t let him get hurt. “Hunter?”
The crazed look in his eyes makes me take a step toward him, but Archer stops me. “Get in the car, Paloma. You’re not going anywhere with this asshole.”
“Enough,” Hunter screams into the quiet night.
And then the unthinkable happens. I’m too slow to stop Archer. He’s too fast for me as he wraps his arms around me and does a half turn. In the back of my mind, I know the gun went off only once, but I hear its echo over and over. It’s like Hunter is shooting at us on repeat. Archer’s heavy breathing brushes my ear. Am I hurt? I can’t feel anything.
“Archer,” I call for him, but he’s got me in a tight vise. “Archer.”
“Run.” He winces right before he drops to the ground sideways.
“What did you do?” I scream at Hunter who’s just standing there frozen as if trying to figure out who shot Archer. “Archer,” I say over and over while my world falls apart around me. “You’re okay.” I hug his chest.
“Fucking asshole shot me in the back.” Archer grinds his teeth.
In my peripheral vision, blood inches away from Archer’s body. There’s so much of it. Hunter shot him in the back, and I have no way of knowing the kind of damage he inflicted.
“I’m going to call for help.” I make to get up, but he grabs my hand.
“Stay.” He labors to catch his breath as if he just ran a mile.
Did he get shot in the lungs? Is that fatal?
“Okay.” I nod. “Please don’t leave me. You can’t leave me,” I beg him. “I love you. I love you.”
“Paloma.” He lifts his hand to touch my cheek, but then he blinks, and his eyes don’t open again.
“Archer?” Please no. I stick my hand under his collar to feel his pulse. But my hands shake so badly, I can’t feel anything. “Don’t. Don’t leave me.” I sob.
“I said, enough.” Hunter yanks me up by the arm. “He’s gone. And the Senator wants you back.” He pulls me down the street toward the house while I struggle to get free.
Somehow I manage to land a punch while I’m kicking and screaming. He lets go, and I take the chance to run back to the car. If I can get to Freya’s phone, I can call for help. I make itto the driver’s side before Hunter slams me against the door. My head hits the car, and I see stars.
“Don’t make me hurt you.” He grips me by the throat. “Let’s go.”
I shove him off me, but this time he’s ready for me. He hits me square on the face. The street flips upside down. I feel like I can touch the dark night. When I roll my head to the side, I see Archer’s lifeless body on the other side of the car. The pain of seeing him feels like a punch straight through my chest. Without Archer, what’s the point of being here?
The starless sky comes down to meet me, and then everything goes black.