Chapter 5
I knock on the door to Kellan’s office.
“Come in.”
He’s sitting in a leather chair behind his massive desk, a rich brown oak that matches the ceiling-height bookshelf behind him. The windows are large and grand, showcasing the impressive New York architecture that surrounds the office. Sun flares reflect off the tile floor and his dirty blonde hair, slicked back with stiff pomade. His tall, lean frame is draped in a fitted gray suit. His Rolex glints in my direction, catching the light from his office and reflecting straight into my eye.
He flashes a grin in my direction, his dark brown eyes gleaming as he pulls out a bouquet of red roses from underneath his desk.
“Hey, little bird. Come here,” he says softly. He rolls his chair back, motioning me to sit in his lap. I shut the door, and he points to the lock. I oblige and click the lock into place.
“These are for you.”
He hands me the roses and pulls me down onto him, my back pressed against his chest. I bury my nose in the petals to inhale morning dew and fresh-cut stems.
“Thank you, Kellan. They’re lovely,” I whisper. If I had a nickel for every rose he’s given me after his outbursts, I’d be richer than him.
It’s moments like this when he is soft and disarming that have kept me in his hold for so long. Kellan knows how to lift me so high that I swear he would never hurt me again, only to drop me so low that I can’t see a possibility of surviving this.
“Let me show you how sorry I am for the other night,” he murmurs into my ear. Leather and spice sting my nose as he scrubs his rough stubble over my cheek. I flinch at the texture, and he grips my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“Kellan, you hurt me. Why do you do that?” I say with a break in my voice. I know why. It’s because this is who he is. He needs control over everything and everyone in his life. Especially me. Isn’t being an heir to an international hotel empire enough? Isn’t loving me enough?
His eyes soften as he loosens his grip on my chin. That’s the look. The look that has me coming back, over and over. It says, “I won’t hurt you again.” “I promise, I’ll do better.” “I love you.”
“Little bird, I already told you I was sorry,” he whispers huskily. The pad of his thumb rubs against a bruise on my neck. I shudder at his touch, squeezing my eyes shut to keep the tears from slipping.
My heart is in a tug of war with anger and forgiveness. The ache is too much to bear—I melt into his touch, craving the love I desperately want. He smirks, feeling my submission.
“See, I knew you’d forgive me,” he growls, his voice suddenly dark and ominous, sending chills down my spine. In the blink of an eye, gone is all the tenderness, the soft Kellan I try so desperately to reach. He trails kisses down my neck, sucking and biting my flesh. I tense my body at the pressure he holds on my hips as he grinds himself underneath me. My breath quickens as his touch becomes harsher, his desire searing through me as it burns my skin.
He cups his hands around my breasts, squeezing my nipples through my blouse.
“Take this blazer off.”
He lets out a grunt, stripping the sleeves off my arms and tossing the blazer on the floor. My vision blurs through the dam of tears I refuse to let loose.
His large hands spread my legs apart, his fingers graze over my panties. Not an ounce of arousal is in me. I’m just a body built for his pleasure, and I hate myself for it. He calls it love, but I call it punishment.
Punishment for allowing myself to sink deeper into Kellan’s hooks and being too weak to do anything about it. Punishment for letting my father put those same evil hooks into me for my entire childhood.
A vision of my father adds to the sting in my eyes. I smell his whiskey breath. His strong hand strikes my face. I hear him screaming at me. “It’s your fault your mother died.”
Kellan brings me back to reality as his hand comes out from under my skirt and grabs my neck, nearly choking me. This is an angry grab, not an aroused one. Sadly, I know the difference.
“Why aren’t you wet for me?” he growls out. I freeze and hold my breath. Like if I breathe, it will start this chain of violence that I so desperately want to escape. The way he touches me should turn me on, but it doesn’t. There’s no warmth. No play. No intimacy. It’s cold and fueled with revenge. It’s laced with an anger I can’t explain. Of course it doesn’t get me wet.
“I’m sorry, let me help with that,” I breathe out. More lies. More deceit. I have to survive, and if that means giving my body to Kellan, then so be it.
With my back still pressed against his chest, I slightly turn my torso and put my fingers in his mouth, taking him by surprise. His eyes suddenly go dark and desire fills his face as his erection hardens underneath me.
He stands me up and grabs my wrist, guiding it under my skirt to touch myself. He takes my neck and pushes me down on his desk, slamming my face on its side. I feel a sting of pain and hear a slight ringing in my ear. His spicy cologne floods my senses, making me nauseous.
I hear him frantically taking off his belt and pushing down his suit pants and briefs. And with one painful thrust, he enters me with no warning. I wince at the lack of wetness. He thrusts again, forcing me to adjust to his size. He keeps one hand on my neck, pinning me to his desk, and the other on the small of my back. He grunts and speaks filthy words to me, but all I do is stare into nothingness. No love, no pleasure. A tear falls across the bridge of my nose as he thrusts faster, finding his release inside me.
As soon as he finishes, the pressure of his hands lets up, and I stand, wiping the tears quickly before he sees. I smooth out my skirt, and he turns me to face him, kissing me hard. His tongue invades my mouth like an unwanted visitor, but I let him in anyway. He breaks the kiss and looks into my eyes.
“I love you, little bird.”
I used to believe him. I used to love him. Or whatever I thought love was. But this—this is not love. This is delusion.
“I love you too.”
Another lie.
The workday is a blur. Most days are. After my morning with Kellan in his office, I excused myself to a private restroom on our floor and scrubbed my intimate parts raw with soap and water while I cried. I hate that he was inside me, and I hate myself more for tolerating it.
Back at my desk, I gather myself and do what Kellan tasked me to do, filing paperwork for prospect hotel locations and setting appointments on his calendar. I notice he has a business trip coming up next weekend and pray that I don’t have to come with. The thought of being without him for a weekend gives me more joy than I’ve had in years.
I fantasize about this glimpse of freedom, losing myself to the possibilities. Maybe try out a new recipe to bake. Eat gelato on the Met steps. Go to the public library and get lost in a sea of books.
The vibration of my phone interrupts my daydreams. I see my grandfather’s picture light up on the screen, and my heart drops. I haven’t called in months. Hell, I haven’t seen them in nine years. I’m running from home, and everyone knows it. The guilt gnaws at me from the inside out.
The last time I saw them was at the San Francisco airport waving goodbye after a short visit home for Christmas during my freshman year at NYU. Kellan came into my life the following semester, and well, I got swept up.
The longer I stayed away, the longer I needed to stay away. I couldn’t tell them the truth about my relationship, my facade of a life. So I don’t tell them anything at all.
I hesitate to pick up, bracing myself for the voice on the other line.
“Hey, Pop. Look, I’m really sorry I haven’t called. I’ve been so busy here and—” I stop when I hear stifled sobs on the other end. The uneasy feeling in my stomach grows, and I hope that whatever comes out of his mouth next will extinguish it.
I stay quiet until he speaks.
“Audrey, I’m sorry to let you know that Gran passed away early this morning. She died peacefully in her sleep, hon, and she loved you very much.”
My hands lose feeling, and my phone drops to the floor, my knees following quickly behind. I grasp at my chest with a hand, feeling nauseous, like my insides are about to fall out. Pop’s muffled voice calls out to me, the sound trudging through mud. I bury my face in my hands and sob.
Gran is dead. And I wasn’t there.
Guilt and bile rises from the depths of my stomach, and I heave into the trash can under my desk. I wipe my mouth with my sleeve and grab the phone off the floor, shakily pressing it into my ear.
“Audrey, honey? Are you there?”
I take a deep breath, my legs crossed beneath me on the floor.
“Yeah, I’m here, Pop.” Quiet sobs take over me, shaking my shoulders up and down.
“Audrey, sweetheart, you listen to me now,” my grandfather croons gently. “Don’t put this on yourself. It was her time to go. She knows how much you loved her. She lived a full life with no regrets. It’s okay, honey.”
I can hear the heartbreak in my grandfather’s voice. She was the love of his life. They had been together since they were eighteen years old. Sixty years of love. And here he is, comforting me when it should be the other way around.
“Pop, I need to come home.” The reality of returning to an Oakwood Valley without Gran hits me with another wave of sickness.
Take a deep breath, count backward from five.
“I’ll book a flight right away.” My voice cracks, unable to shake the sudden grief that sinks into my body.
“I would love that.” Pop pauses to collect himself. “Just…come home, kid.” His voice breaks, shattering my heart into a million tiny shards all over my office floor.
“Of course, Pop. I’ll look at flights now and text you when I book.”
Is it truly home without Gran? How can I think about setting foot in Oakwood Valley when a huge piece of my heart is gone? But that’s my fault. I never came back to see her. I dug myself a hole so deep that it took her dying for me to find the strength to climb out.
“Sounds good, honey,” his voice falters. “And Audrey…I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head. “No, Pop, I’m sorry. Talk to you soon. I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
I stay seated on the floor for minutes after the line goes dead, held down by the weight of the news. I didn’t think this day could get any worse. One phone call quickly proved otherwise.
Kellan strides into the room and finds me on the floor. I look up at him, mascara streaking down my cheeks.
“What happened?” he asks dryly.
I scoff in my head. No, “are you alright?” No hugs. No tenderness.
“My grandmother passed away this morning. I just got the call,” I say in a curt, emotionless tone.
“Oh, well, I’m sorry to hear that. I’m wrapping up, and then we can head home,” he says, plowing right ahead. “I was thinking we could pick up dinner from that new Thai place on St. Mark’s Place?”
I shake my head and push myself up to stand.
“I’m booking a flight to go home for a few days. I need to be with my grandfather.” We speak as if we’re in a business meeting.
His eyes remain fixed on his phone, typing up something that I’m sure can wait, showing zero empathy. This is supposed to be the man who loves me. Gran just died, and here he stands, emotionless—assuming I’m just void as he is.
“Fine.” His body tenses. “When?” he asks with a slight annoyance in his tone. I shrug it off, not able to deal with it right now.
“Whenever I can, Kellan. It just happened. I don’t know. But I have to go,” I sigh.
“Okay. I’ll send Briggs with you,” he clips.
It doesn’t surprise me in the slightest that Kellan didn’t offer to accompany me. Of course he would have Briggs be a stand in, as if my grief is nothing but an inconvenience to him and his schedule.
I furrow my brows in frustration. “No. I don’t need Briggs. Please, I’m going home to grieve. Let me have this. Alone.” I sound defeated, but there’s no emotion left in my body after today.
He never brings his eyes up to me. They just stay on that goddamn phone. I put both hands on my desk to brace myself, suddenly feeling light-headed.
Take a deep breath, count backward from five.
“Alright then. No Briggs. Let’s go home. I’m starved.”
He leaves my office and a tidal wave of relief washes over me. It’s rare for him to agree with me, but when he does, I don’t dare draw any attention to myself for fear that he may change his mind. I’m relieved to escape from him, even just for a weekend.
Back at home, we sit silently across from each other, eating our takeout. I glance up at Kellan while he sends off email after email, scooping yellow curry into his mouth.
I used to find his mouth so sexy, the way his bottom lip forms a pout, the slight curl in his top lip to form what I used to think was a dashing smirk. Now, all I see is rage.
He catches me staring and cocks up his eyebrow. “Like what you see, little bird?”
I give him the fakest of smiles.
Yes, Kellan. Of course, Kellan. Whatever you want to hear that will get me on this flight and away from you.
“You know I do.” Another performance. “I booked my flight for next Thursday. Briggs will drop me off at the airport, and I’ll be back the following Monday night.”
I get the information out as quickly as possible, praying he doesn’t linger too long on the fact that I’ll be out of his reach for five full days. So I play the game—stalking over to him, spreading his knees apart, perching myself on his lap. I dig my fingernails into his nape, earning a low groan from the base of his throat.
“Oh? Is this what I have to look forward to when you come home?” he drawls, raking his hands down my backside, squeezing me hungrily in his palms.
Mission successful. I feel his length harden beneath me as he gives me a devious smile. He lifts me and puts me down on the dining table, stripping me naked.
I let him have his way with me until he has no more left to give. He’s breathless, his forehead resting on my bare chest. I feel the warm liquid drip between my thighs, but on the inside, I’m drowning in my own screams.