Chapter 3
My flip-flops shuffled against the tiled floor when I came out of the locker room at the CCU pool the next day. I was lost in my own thoughts, my mind still offering up horrible scenarios in which Boston got his way, and I found myself alone in Seattle with two men who hated me.
I think Coach had to call my name three times before my ears connected with my brain. “Yeah, Coach?”
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” She motioned towards the front row of the nearby bleachers, moving towards them to take a seat.
“Uh… sure.” I followed and sat down beside her.
“I want to discuss your swimming future,” Coach started, and surprise flickered in me.
Was she about to kick me off the team? I was swimming well and slowly shaving half seconds off my PBs.
I swallowed, waiting for her next words.
“Your times are improving with every meet and training session, and I think you have a real shot at making the national team. Maybe even beyond if you apply yourself.”
Beyond? Wait, did she mean…
“You think I’m good enough to make the Olympic team one day?”
She nodded seriously. “It’s a real possibility. It all depends on how well you apply yourself and how hard you keep your focus both in and out of the pool over the next few years.”
I held back a derisive snort. If only she knew how many stressors and distractions I had out of the pool. But I wanted my swimming to take me places, namely away from my mother. This could open up my future. I wanted this for me.
“I’m willing to do what it takes,” I said, injecting confidence into my tone.
Coach cracked a smile, giving my knee a supportive squeeze. “Good, because it’s going to take work. Extra practices and more races during meets to get you ready for Nationals.”
I nodded. “I won’t let you down, Coach.”
We parted ways, and I headed out the door along with some of my teammates who had taken extra-long post-practice showers, laughing and joking about classes, race mistakes, and personal best times.
It was nice to be like this with them. A normal college experience away from the Aston fortune or the crippling anxiety of my old life.
We waved goodbye, dispersing through the parking lot. I’d driven myself today, a rare occasion lately given Dacre and Presley insisted on me playing passenger princess at all times when we were headed to campus. Especially after Boston had turned up at Byron’s rally.
The conversation that I’d had that night with Sin, Dacre, and Pres over the game of Monopoly had become so emotionally charged so quickly that there hadn’t been the opportunity to tell them that it hadn’t been the first time Boston had shown up.
Well, maybe there had been time. But I’d been too afraid to tell them about it.
I’d gotten so mad at the three of them for keeping the legitimacy of my marriage a secret from me, yet I was lying to them about this. I was well aware of what a hypocrite I’d become.
But after what Sinclair had promised—what all three of them had promised—telling them about Boston stalking me wasn’t an option right now.
I had no doubt the three of them would go to the ends of the damn earth to keep me safe.
But keeping me safe from a man like Boston wasn’t without risk.
He was a known murderer and an enforcer for his criminal father.
Indiscriminate killing was what he did. I’d rather be hauled back to Seattle by my hair than see anything happen to any of my guys.
This whole situation was a serious fucking mess. And all of it was because of my father.
If there was ever a case for murder…
I shook the thought from my head. That wasn’t who I was. That was who he was. And I never wanted to be anything like him.
I headed across the parking lot, feeling suddenly lonely. I was so used to always having one of my stepbrothers with me lately, it felt strange not to have them now. I’d grown used to having someone’s hands on me at all times, and I missed it when they weren’t there.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I sent the same message to all three of them.
Dempsey: I miss you.
Dacre had left straight after his classes to head for his art studio, which meant he’d be absorbed in his work and unlikely to hear his phone. Presley was at football practice and wouldn’t see the message until he showered and checked in.
But Sinclair replied right away.
Sinclair: I miss you too. I’ll see you tonight, when I plan to do despicable things to you.
I bit my lip as I walked, imagining just what those things would entail, the promise of them sending a jolt of heat between my legs. Sighing at the fact he wasn’t here to give me a taste of it in my backseat, I shoved my phone in my pocket and scanned the lot for my car.
I’d been running late this morning and the only spot I’d been able to find was one right in the back corner. I walked between vehicles, admiring the expensive machines. Students at Cape Canyon University were the offspring of the country’s elite and it showed.
In the distance, I could hear the sounds of my teammates’ engines starting as they pulled out, and I finally made it back to my Bentley.
I was starting to hate the sight of this car.
Byron had gifted it to me when I’d first joined the Astons with my mom.
I’d been floored at the time that he’d give me something so expensive as though it were nothing.
Now I understood Byron better, which meant I understood what this car had really meant.
It was a status symbol. It sent a message among his peers to have his new stepdaughter driving around in such an expensive car. It was also a means of power and control. Byron was wealthy enough that he could gift me something like this without a second thought.
And he could take it away.
I might have married into a wealthy family, but I still had nothing to my name. I was dependent on my mother for support, and she was dependent on Byron.
Byron Aston owned us. And this car was a shiny reminder of that.
Unlocking it, I slipped my swim bag from my shoulder and tossed it on the passenger seat, then rounded the car to the driver’s side. I glanced up as I pulled the door open, my body seizing at the sight of a tall figure clad in black cargo pants and a black leather jacket.
Boston leaned against the hood of some kind of shiny, black car that looked like it cost as much as mine. His expression was blank, but his eyes were swirling pools of darkness trained on me.
I was momentarily paralyzed. Did I rush into the driver’s seat, lock the doors, and hightail it out of here? We were close enough that if I yelled at him, he’d hear me. So did I plaster on false bravado and tell him to stay the hell away from me for good?
Despite the tremble in my hands, something told me to confront him. To stand up to him in a way I’d never done with my father. I didn’t want to be that frightened little girl again, no matter how much this man scared me.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, failing to keep the fear from my voice.
Glancing around, the lot was near-deserted now that my teammates had left. There was a chance someone could come this way to claim one of the few remaining cars, and I prayed they would.
Boston ignored my question, and my body vibrated with fear in the silence.
Why was he doing this? What was his end-game? To intimidate me? To terrify me into submission?
“What the hell do you want, Ivers?” I called louder this time but with no more confidence.
He tilted his head to the side, assessing me. “She knows my name.”
His voice was low and deep. So low it was almost a growl, and it sent a tremor down my spine.
“And that’s all I want to know.”
His eyes pinched at the slight and he pushed off his car. The one step he took in my direction had me yanking my car door open faster than I’d ever moved and sliding inside. I slammed the door behind me, locked it, and started the engine, throwing it into drive and getting the hell out of there.
Boston’s gaze tracked me as I went, and I shuddered, blowing out a long tension-filled breath.
That was as close as we’d been since that day at the Aston Manor.
And I’d survived it without being thrown in the trunk of a car and forced back to Seattle.
This time.
Hours later when I was lying in bed in the dark, sleep evading me like it always did, I replayed the interaction in my head. The sound of Boston’s deep voice sent a spark of terror through me, along with a tight, twisting feeling in my stomach.
What would happen to me if I was stolen back to Seattle and forced to be his wife? Would I be locked up in his family’s compound where the Astons could never reach me? Would he hurt me? Or worse… force himself on me?
Anxiety flooded me like a tidal wave, and I forced myself to breathe deeply and steadily.
It wasn’t happening. I was safe in the Aston Manor where Boston couldn’t touch me.
My bedroom door cracked open, making me bolt upright in my already-heightened state. A shaft of light from the hallway slanted across the room, disappearing just as fast and the covers lifted, a warm almost-naked body sliding in bed next to me.
I flopped back on the pillow, shifting onto my side, and Presley wrapped his arms around me, fitting me against him so my body was cocooned in his.
He pressed a kiss to my hair. “Missed you today, Sass.”
“I missed you too.”
His arms came around me, his palm flattening against my chest. “Your heart is beating so wild right now.” I could hear his smile in the dark. “Is that the effect I have on you?”
I bit my lip, nodding even though he likely couldn’t see it. “Of course.”
It was a half-truth; he did make my heart race.
It just wasn’t the whole truth, because that was something I couldn’t tell him.
If he knew the depths of my fear when it came to Ivers, he’d see it as a problem that needed fixing.
And the last thing I wanted was my beautiful broken boy getting hurt because of me.
I shifted in his arms so we were facing each other, determined to exist in this moment with him and not the terrifying scenarios that had been playing out in my head.
“Where have you been?”
He blew out a weary breath. “Practice ran late. Coach is all over us about this upcoming game, he seems to think it’s a must-win. Then I had a drink with Dacre and Sin so we could talk out a few things.”
My brow pinched, my hackles instantly rising after the game night conversation. “About what?”
“You.”
My eyes narrowed on him in accusation. “What exactly did you talk about?”
“How we’re going to get rid of this husband of yours.”
That rising panic I’d just worked so hard to swallow down flared again, making my heart pound.
I should tell Presley what happened after swim practice tonight.
I should lay it all out for him, along with all the other times Boston had crossed the line by turning up where he somehow knew I was going to be.
But I wouldn’t add fuel to this already raging fire until I needed to.
Boston hadn’t hurt me, merely scared me.
And telling Presley or any of my stepbrothers would mean an escalation I was nowhere near ready to deal with.