Chapter 21 #2
“No. It’s not.” My throat feels like it’s about to close over.
Claire studies me, her brow furrowed. “Really? You didn’t speak to him at all?”
“I never spoke to him.” The lie comes out easier a second time.
She hesitates, then presses a card into my hand. “Well, if you do remember anything, please…call me.”
Then she’s gone.
I stare at the card, pulse hammering in my ears. The memory of the empty helicopter leaving the island the morning after the last visit flashes through my mind. What happened to Ragg? And what have I done by talking to him in the first place?
I tuck the card into my purse and return to the party.
Troy is across the room, speaking with a tall, blond-haired man in a black suit, who looks like a GQ model rather than a business associate. Troy’s eyes find mine immediately, then narrow.
I start to walk towards him, but then someone blocks my path.
“Sage, my dear.” He extends his hand, professional smile in place. “Dr. Geoffrey Fogg. You remember me, don’t you? I was your physician after your setback.”
The floor drops out from beneath me as I look at the tall man, in his thirties, in an expensive suit with perfectly styled, but already greying hair. He’s wearing silver-rimmed glasses over his placid brown eyes, the kind of frames that suggest soft-spoken intelligence.
Memories of stark green walls and the smell of antiseptic wash over me. All of a sudden, his cold hands are holding me down again, and the sharp bite of a needle is in my veins, digging in.
“This will help you sleep, Sage. Only sleep. Nothing to be afraid of.”
“Of course, I remember.” How could I not?
“It’s wonderful to see you looking so well.”
“Did you get the pills I sent you?”
I nod, ignoring the way my whole body trembles as he steps closer. “Yes, thank you.”
“And they have been helping with your headaches?”
I force a smile, shuffling back further. “They always do.”
“Good, good.”
“Fogg, what are you doing here? Is my father here?”
“Your father couldn’t make it, but he asked me to check on you personally.” He takes my hand before I can pull back, his grip professional, but clammy. The grip of someone who’s touched me before, examined me, held me down while he—
My vision blurs just as his thumb presses against my pulse point, exactly where he used to check my heart rate.
“It’s been nearly three weeks since you moved to Grayfleet. Your father was naturally concerned about the living arrangements with your fiancé. Whether his wishes have been... respected.”
My brain whirls to comprehend what he means.
“What do you mean?”
Fogg makes a soft smile. “As your physician, I’m uniquely positioned to assess these matters, of course.” His voice drops, not so clinical anymore, but so very invasive. “Sage. Is there somewhere we can go and talk in private?”
Private?
My muscles tense, and panic claws in my chest. I need to go. But Fogg tries to lead me into the hallway, and I stumble in my heels. He grabs me then, arms solid around me, and ushers me through the door into the narrow space of the corridor.
Alone with him, my breathing quickens. “I need to find Troy.”
“Let’s not bother him, shall we?” His grip tightens, suddenly stronger than I ever gave him credit for. I remember now. He always looked so meek, but that’s a lie. He’s not. He’s stronger than I am.
“I’m just here to provide medical evidence, if necessary. In case Severin has been inappropriate with you, touched you in ways that violate the morality clause. Has he? You can tell me.”
I can’t breathe as we close in on the bathroom. Fogg is still asking if Troy has touched me. But I feel too sick to speak.
All around me are green walls meant to soothe, and cutting straps that aren’t. His reedy voice is in my ear like nails on a chalkboard. “It’s just a small adjustment to your medication, Sage. You’ll feel better after you let me do this one thing.”
Reality swims back into focus.
“…has Mr. Severin behaved appropriately, Miss Lovett? Have there been any unwanted advances? Physical contact that crosses boundaries?” He pulls me into the bathroom, eyes slitted as he takes me in, his tone becoming soft and low. “If there has, I need to confirm it.”
“Let go,” I hear myself say, sounding underwater.
Drowning.
Use the razor, Nell whispers.
“I’m simply protecting your virtue.” Doctor’s smile still in place. “If he’s taken liberties, we can document it. Your father has been very worried about you living alone in that house with a man like Severin.”
The one in your purse, Nell hisses. Do it, now!
“I said, let go.” My hand fumbles for the razor in my purse, but it’s difficult to grab it with one hand. As I draw it out, he clocks it and neatly catches my wrist, like he’s been trained to do, and steers me against the tiled wall.
The bathroom door is still open, but all Fogg has to do is reach over and close it.
“Now, now, Sage. There’s no need to get upset.” He’s studying me with those placid eyes. “It’s just a quick examination.”
“Take your damn hands off her.”
Troy’s voice cuts through the roaring in my ears.
I look up to find him coming into the corridor, his expression thunderous.
“Mr. Severin.” Dr. Fogg releases me smoothly, that professional smile still in place. “I was just checking on my patient. Miss Lovett’s well-being is of paramount importance, particularly given the delicate nature of the arrangement.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly.” Troy’s gaze cuts to me, and there’s something deadly in his eyes that looks like pain and hate all mixed up. “Sage. We’re leaving.”
“Unfortunately, Miss Lovett is having another setback. It’s obvious she needs medical atten—”
Troy strides up and gets in Fogg’s face. “I don’t give a fuck what you think she needs. Touch her again, and they’ll need a doctor to identify what’s left of you. Now, get out of my hotel.”
Then. “Sage, with me.”
But he doesn’t look at me.
He turns and walks toward the end of the corridor, expecting me to follow as Ben would. And I do, because Dr. Fogg is still watching with those clinical, assessing eyes.
And because my body is still screaming for me to slice him with the razor I’m holding in a death grip.
Troy swipes a keycard and pulls open a door marked Private. It’s an office with floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of the city below. In the middle is a mahogany desk and a leather sofa. The scent of expensive leather breaks the spell, and as I totter inside, I find my breath.
The door closes behind us with a terrible soft click. Then he rounds on me. “Your doctor? That man is your doctor?”
“Yes, after the hospital, he—”
“You were in the hospital?”
“I had a…breakdown.” Nausea has taken hold, and I want to hurl. “Dr Fogg has been helping me.”
“He’s been helping you?” Troy’s voice is dangerously soft. “With what?”
“Just my headaches.”
“Don’t lie to me.” He stalks closer, and I back up until the desk hits my spine.
“You were going into that bathroom with him, and I heard enough. The morality clause. He came to check whether I’ve respected it.
” His laugh is bitter. “So your father doesn’t come himself when I invite him, but sends his pet doctor to find evidence that I’ve violated his daughter.
I mean, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. ”
“No! That’s not…” He floods my face. That’s precisely what my father was doing.
I stare at the floor. I’m still holding the razor, my fist curled around the handle like a talisman. But I’m shaking so hard I couldn’t even cut a slice of cake if I tried.
“Sage, look at me.”
His voice is like acid in my face, but I jerk my gaze up to meet his.
“Is this the game you’re playing?” His eyes search my face, wild and furious. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Taking notes every time I’ve touched you? Every moment I’ve gotten so damn close?”
I shake my head.
But he comes over and plants his hands on either side of me, caging me in. “Building a case against me with your doctor?” He cocks his head. “Just how close are you anyway? Is he the one you’re using to prove you’re not a virgin?”
My body suddenly feels hot. How dare he say these things to me when they aren’t true? How dare he think…
My hand grips the razor white-knuckle tight.
“No.”
“Then why were you in the bathroom with him?” His breathing is ragged. “Why let him put his hands all over you?” His voice drops. “Were you going to show him the lingerie I paid for?”
“No! You’re twisting it! It was nothing like that. He was asking if you’d violated the clause.”
“And what did you tell him?” His voice is soft, deadly. “That I’ve been a perfect gentleman? That I haven’t laid a finger on you?” Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. “Or did you tell him the truth?”
I stare at him, stomach in knots. “What truth?”
“That every time I touch you, you respond like a dog in heat.” His gaze drops to my mouth.
“That you lean into me every chance you get.” His gaze lingers on my heaving chest and then drags slowly down the rest of me.
“Like now, you’re practically begging for it.
And even though you say you despise me, I don’t see you running.
You want me to violate that fucking clause as much as—”
He stops abruptly.
When his eyes dart back up to mine, I almost drown in them. It’s like sinking into the lake, but instead of thrashing, panicking, I feel utterly lost.
The space between us is an electrical storm, and then he shoves me against the desk, his mouth slamming into mine. He tastes of whiskey and sin and all the dark things that have been on my mind all day and all night.
I don’t push him off me, not when his hand snatches in my hair and drags my head back, scraping his teeth over the pulse point in my neck. The wood digs into my spine, and I just…let out a moan.
My eyes shudder closed.
There are no words, just the sound of us both panting, and him sucking. Against my better judgment, I fist his hair. And wrap one of my legs around him.
He takes that as an invitation to hoist me up onto the desk, spreading my legs so he’s between them. Then he bites me on my collarbone, and my insides turn liquid.
One hand is tangled in my hair, holding the back of my neck, the other is under my dress, easing off my knickers.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” he hisses in my ear.
I gasp when he shoves his fingers inside me. Pain meshed with pleasure spikes through me.
“Is that for me or him?”
“For you.” My voice is a strangled, needy sob. He thrusts in again, making me see stars, and I have to hold onto the table or I might fall off. The razor gripped in my hand makes it so much more difficult.
“Does it turn you, having me chase after you like some jealous prick?”
Frantically, I shake my head.
He bites my earlobe and plunges in deep, giving no mercy with how rough he is, curving his fingers up to press against a sweet spot I ever even knew existed.
Waves of intense pleasure shoot up my spine, and I know I’m close. I’ve chased this feeling before, with my own hand, but it’s never felt this fierce before, like my whole body is about to explode.
“Oh, God. Please.”
He snorts. “The bastard isn’t home. But I am.”
He swirls my clit with his thumb, driving me to want to hurt him when he slows, but then he thrusts hard, once, twice, then swirling over and over, bringing me to a precipice I want to plummet from.
Noises I never thought were in me fall, untethered, from my lips. Every nerve pulls taut, winding tighter. I’m aching, desperate, right on the edge.
All at once, I’m coming undone.
For him.
“No, you don’t get to come so easily.”
Slowly, he slides out.
Breathing hard, I open my eyes and stare at him under my lashes.
He goes to step back.
“Wait.” I find my voice, pulling him back.
“Why?” he hisses, breath hot on the part of my neck.
“Because…” I can’t say it. Even now, staring into his blown green orbs, seeing him hard in his trousers, and waiting for me to say it’s true that I want him just as much as he wants me.
But I can’t.
“You said you’d not touch me again.”
“Then I lied.”
Of course, he lied. Lies come out of his mouth like honey. Then I remember who he is, what he did, and my insides twist.
I hate him for making me so weak.
“I lied too.”
His nostrils flare.
“My father was going to do all those things you said. But do you want to know what I was going to do to Fogg once he got me in the bathroom?” I finally say, my voice hoarse.
Troy’s jaw ticks, and he swallows. “No.” But his eyes are hooded as he studies my face now, trying to piece it together before I can tell him.
I pass the razor to my dominant hand, and lean against the table to travel it up and press the blade to his neck. I’m still trembling, but it feels nice not to be the one scared for a split second. “I was going to cut him. But now all I want to do is hurt you.”
Troy’s eyes blaze, and his nostrils flare. “There’s my little blade.” His laugh is harsh.
Then. “Do it.”
“I will.” But my hand is shaking so hard, blood wells where the metal snags his skin, daring me to slice deeper.
But he’s not bothered; in fact, he’s looking down at my hand, his eyes narrowing the longer he stares at my wrist.
What’s he looking at?
“Did that fucker do that?”
I blink at him. “What?” I look at where his gaze is drawn, to my wrist, which is marked and red where Fogg manhandled me. “Oh, that.”
Troy slowly reaches up and gently takes my wrist.
“It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, I wasn’t going with him willingly.”
“I see.” Then he glances up, forest-green eyes taking me in, as if bringing me home. “You were afraid.”
I nod, unable to speak.
“I thought you were afraid of me…But it was because of him?”
Another nod.
“Okay, then.” He reaches out slowly, carefully, and turns my damaged wrist over, ignoring the blade in my hand completely, and inspects the marks Dr. Fogg’s fingers have left.
“This doctor,” he says, almost to himself. “He’s the one who treated you after your breakdown.” His thumb ghosts over the bruises forming on my skin.
“If you can call it that…yes.”
The muscle in Troy’s jaw works as his dark eyes flick up and drill into mine. “Tell me everything he did to you. Every single thing. Leave nothing out.”
I nod my head.
“No more lies.”
“No more secrets,” I echo back, feeling my throat want to close over.
Then all the dark hurt suppressed inside spills out at once.