Chapter Thirty-Two
Caius
I stare at the crumpled picture I’d found on my way up the elevator in Gideon’s building. My brain wants to make sense of it, but it’s like there’s a black hole where understanding should be.
The elevator dings, alerting me to my destination. Carefully, I tuck the photo into jacket pocket before exiting and walking to Gideon’s door.
I knock my knuckles on the door and wince at the immediate pain. Last night, I busted them up good when I’d lost my shit on Bastian. I hope his face hurts a lot worse.
The door opens and Eva greets me. Today, she’s not put together like usual. Her eyes are red and puffy from crying. Without a stitch of makeup on her face, she appears much older than usual. Not in a bad way. The more natural look suits her. I wonder what her husband thinks.
“Caius,” Eva says coolly. “Come in. You’re expected.”
She wasn’t exactly my super fan when I accosted Romy after their bakery date. In my defense, I was saving Romy from that uncontrollable CUP Star soldier.
“They’re in the living room,” she tells me, closing the door behind me. “Go on. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need something.”
We part ways. I stride toward the sound of low, male voices. When I reach the living room, I’m not shocked to find Gideon and Dad. What surprises me, though, is to see Bastian.
Satisfaction burns hot through me. Seeing his swollen, heavily bruised face that’s covered with lacerations and a bandage over his nose is the highlight of this shit-tastic day.
I smirk at him. It gives me the confidence to deal with our fathers. At the end of the day, money and power mean nothing. Who can punch harder is always the factor in who wins a battle between two men.
And I won that battle.
The war, though, is far more difficult. It’s a psychological war that I’m having trouble keeping up with. Neither Theo nor Romy are here. Kaitlyn isn’t either. As much as I want to demand answers, I know biding my time is smarter.
“Have a seat, Son,” Dad says from his perch on a love seat. “Join the conversation.”
Gideon rises from his armchair and walks over to the bar area. He makes a drink, presumably for me. I make sure to sit across from Bastian so I can admire my handiwork. The way he fists his hand over and over indicates the fury aching to be released.
I’ll beat your ass again. Try me, dickhead.
Gideon brings me a glass of what looks like bourbon. I don’t thank him. I’m on edge and defensive. Everything around me is unravelling and these men are at the helm. Letting down my guard would be a regrettable mistake.
It would’ve been nice to be offered lunch instead of a stiff drink, but beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, I could use the alcohol to relax me. I’m wired so tight, I think I might snap at any second.
“Where’s Megan?” Bastian barks out.
I down half my drink and shrug. “Don’t know.”
It’s true. I never asked Romy where she sent her off to. It doesn’t take a genius, though, to imagine she went back home to Mississippi. If Bastian can’t figure that out on his own, I sure as hell am not helping him.
“Unbelievable,” Bastian growls.
I finish the rest of my drink. Gideon, all too eager to be a good host, takes my glass to be refilled. Dad’s gaze bores into me. After Gideon hands off my second glass, I turn my attention on my father.
He watches me with narrowed eyes that gleam wildly. I know the look. When he’s entertained or antagonizing or scheming, his eyes practically glow. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been staring into them when they’re aimed at me. It’s just been a long time.
I feel like I’m fifteen again.
But I’m not.
“Where’s Romy?” I demand, unable to keep the bite out of my voice. “Theo? Kaitlyn?”
Dad laughs. “There’s a fiery demon who hides behind that cool exterior. I told you, Gid.”
Gideon nods, smirking. Bastian continues to glower at me.
I’m not amused.
These two men, who days ago were nearly at each other’s throats, are chummy now. Just like last night. I’m on the outside. I’ve always been on the outside.
“Kaitlyn, as you know, has been through a terrible trauma because of her nanny,” Dad explains as if I’m a child who doesn’t understand adult words. It grates on my nerves. “Your brother has taken her to get some professional help.”
I stiffen, unable to keep my emotions at bay. “What?”
“Don’t worry,” Gideon says in a condescending tone. “Some children need psychiatric help and she’ll be getting the best there is.”
Ignoring him, I turn to glare at my father. “Why wasn’t I involved in this?”
“You’re not her daddy, Caius. As the child’s grandfather, I took responsibility of her mental health care. I assure you she’ll be as good as new before long.”
She’s not some car you take in to get restored. She’s a fucking kid.
“And Romy?” I ask, this time turning my attention to Gideon. “Where the hell is my fiancée?”
Gideon’s features pinch at the mention of her being my fiancée. I don’t give a damn what he thinks about this new level in our relationship. He clearly doesn’t approve. Well, I don’t approve of him either.
“There’s something you should know about Romy,” Gideon says gruffly. “Before you involve yourself in marrying her. She has…”
“Psychological problems,” Bastian chimes in. “She’s fucked up, man. Been that way since she was a kid.”
I wonder how many good punches I could get in before the other two men would pull me off him.
“Where. The. Fuck. Is. She?” Each of my words is punctuated by a new level of pissed-off. The liquor hisses through my veins like hot steam rushing through a pipe looking for escape.
“Show him,” Gideon urges. “Let him see what kind of screwed up girl my daughter is.”
Dad’s pathetic attempt to seem apprehensive about this is overshadowed by his gleaming eyes. He’s loving every second of this. “Promise you won’t lose your shit, Son.”
I don’t make any promises.
Gideon refills everyone’s glasses while Dad scrolls through his phone.
“There are some texts between them,” Dad explains. “That’s how it started.”
My eyebrow hikes up. I’ve had access to all her texts, and thus far, there hasn’t been anything alarming to me. This is all bullshit.
“I’m texting them to you now,” Dad explains. “Take your time. I know this is upsetting.”
I grind my teeth together as I fish out my phone. The text he sent me has some screenshots attached.
Theo: Why would you say yes to marrying him when we’re planning to run away together?
Romy: So he won’t catch on too early. He’ll try to stop us when we get ready to take Kaitlyn and leave. I don’t want him to be suspicious.
Theo: You love me more than him.
Romy: I only love you.
My eyes dart over to Dad. “She’s having a relationship behind my back with my brother?”
Dad nods, feigning disappointment. “I’m sorry, Son. I know how much you care for her.”
He has no fucking idea.
He also has no fucking idea that I know these texts aren’t real.
“There’s more,” Dad says, gesturing for me to continue. “There are a lot of text conversations between them.”
Romy: He almost caught me sneaking back to our room. We can’t be so careless in our affair.
Theo: I know, baby doll. But you’re so hard to resist. I’m counting down the days until we can leave.
I know for a fact Theo calls her “babe,” not baby doll. It’s almost as if some old guy created these fake texts…
Oh, that’s right.
An old guy did create these fake texts.
I read another screenshot, this one from this morning.
Romy: He’s gone. Hurry. Come see me. I need you.
Theo: I’m on my way. Take his ring off. I’m not fucking you with it on.
Despite knowing this is bullshit, rage burns hot in my chest.
“There are also these pictures,” Dad rumbles. “I must warn you, they’re difficult to look at.”
My phone buzzes with another text where he’s sent me multiple pictures. I open the first one and stare in confusion. It looks so real.
Romy, with damp hair, covered in hickeys I gave her and completely naked, is sprawled over my brother’s chest. He’s taken a selfie of the two of them.
He drugged her, remember?
Her eyes are closed. Though it looks intimate and real, it’s nothing more than a man posing an unconscious woman on him to look like more than it is.
The next picture is of them kissing. Well, it’s my brother devouring her lips as she lies there passed out. Another staged picture.
There are multiple pictures of her lying there completely naked. When I stumble across a picture of my brother’s dick in his hand as he kneels between her spread legs, I nearly throw my phone.
“I’m sorry, Son,” Dad says. “I didn’t want to show you, but you deserve to know of their betrayal.”
If Theo raped her while she was knocked out, I’m going to make good on my fantasy of throwing him over the stairwell railing. I’ll take great satisfaction in listening to his skull crack open like a busted cantaloupe.
There aren’t any pictures of him inside of her, thank God, but he’s touching her in each one. It’s clear this is all a setup, most likely ordered by my father, and Theo was just performing what was asked of him.
What about when the camera was off?
What did Theo do then?
At some point, though, she woke up. She texted me after and was clearly afraid.
The last picture is of Romy’s tits. They’re covered in cum. That motherfucker got himself off on looking at and touching her unconscious body. He shot his load on her breasts while she slept.
I’m definitely going to kill him.
He went over and beyond to please our father.
Turning into a rage-filled beast as I turn all three of these men to a bloody pulp is unrealistic and stupid. They play a far more difficult game. And right now, they’re holding all the cards.
“She’s a very troubled girl,” Gideon explains. “If I had to guess, she’s just using your brother so she can kidnap your niece. It’s a miracle your father was able to rescue the child before Romy was able to make good on her intentions.”
Gideon is incredibly skilled at creating narratives for human consumption. He does it on a global scale with his media company, spoon-feeding the masses with his bites of news he’s carefully crafted. I’m not some stupid sheep who falls for it, though. These people have no idea how much I’ve absorbed, learned, and mastered over the past twelve years. I was a motherfucking sponge.
“I’m going to get Theo untangled from all this,” Dad says, “and we’ll get back to being the family we were before she came into our lives. You’ll learn to forgive your brother, especially now that you know her motives.”
Do they really expect me to believe this shit?
“It’s in your best interest, Son, to just forget about her.”
Forget about her.
Why?
I rub at my eyes, feeling the effects of having not slept much last night and running on adrenaline since. This is the first time I’ve sat down for more than five minutes. Alcohol on an empty stomach doesn’t help either.
What are their plans for Romy?
Is Gideon going to try to get his hands on her so he can “fix” her once and for all?
Yeah, that’s not going to happen.