Chapter 23 He Wants to Ruin Me
HE WANTS TO RUIN ME
Lachlan sure knows how to manipulate me. Choosing to use the information about my birth mom as a condition for me to leave was perfect—for him. He knew I wouldn’t tear open the email and read it like the newest installment of my favorite fantasy romance series.
He knew I’d sit on it for a while before going down that rabbit hole. It was his way of keeping me here longer, and if that didn’t work, he added the stipulation about me giving him my virginity.
He wants to ruin me. What exactly does that mean? Ruin my vajayjay from further sex by destroying it to the point where I can’t sit down? Walk?
Or did he mean ruin me for other men?
I feel like it could be both and that scares me. I glance at my crotch. Does it need to be protected from the castle’s beast?
Nothing he’s done so far has been unbearable. Quite the opposite. But then we haven’t had sex, and his dick doesn’t seem average in size.
I could text Tinsley about it. Or I could try Adelaide.
It occurs to me that while I’ve checked her social media accounts a few times for updates—finding nothing—I haven’t checked my DMs.
I lie on the velvet chaise lounge that’s near the fireplace in my room and put my sock-covered feet up, leaving my booties on the floor. My heart soars when I see she responded. Two days ago. I haven’t ghosted her for too long, thankfully.
I read her message.
New number? Why? Something to do with your dad? I added it to my phone. I’ll add mine here too. I got the bouquet you sent for my dad’s funeral. It was beautiful, thank you! I lost him to cancer, but I’m doing well, all things considered.
That kills me to read. First her mom dies from the disease, then her dad.
Kingston is taking exceptional care of me.
We’re finally together the way we should have always been.
I suppose it’s never too late to make up for lost time.
So much has happened since we last spoke.
It’s crazy. I can’t talk about it either for reasons I’d love to explain but that aren’t safe right now.
That’s sounds bad, I know. Please don’t freak out.
I promise I’m fine—better than fine. I love Kingston, and he loves me.
Can you believe it? I never thought this day would happen.
It’s surreal and scary but worth it. I’ll call as soon as it’s safer.
Damn, that makes me nervous for her.
Please don’t worry. Kingston would never let anything happen to me.
It’s just bad business left over from his dad.
You know how all our parents can be. I hope you’re doing well and getting what you want out of your situation with Lachlan.
He looked super yummy in the pic you sent.
I better go. Love and miss you. Text me when you can.
Apart from saying Lachlan and I are not in love, I feel like our circumstances aren’t that different.
Neither of us are safe. Neither of us can go into detail about what’s happening in our lives.
I mean, I could, but it would be a lot for her to digest, let alone accept.
Lachlan isn’t holding me here because he loves me.
He wants to screw me. And keep me safe but mostly screw me.
I shoot upright with a thought. What if I give him what he wants, and it satisfies this craving he has to take my virginity? What if that’s all he’s interested in? What if after he has me, he changes his mind about keeping me around and conceiving a baby with me?
Does it hurt to think he could only want my virginity? Yes.
Would being discarded be worth it to get a life of my own? Maybe.
It could be the only way I get out of here.
Do I want to earn his love anyway? I’m not sure.
Maybe I’m afraid to try and suffer rejection along with a severely wounded heart.
I stare at my chest where the organ is buried beneath my ribs and atrocious breast. “How much can you take?”
I’ve always been good at holding myself apart from anything that could damage me.
I slipped up with Gabe, but I didn’t love him like I’d thought.
What we had compared to what I have with Lachlan seems juvenile and empty.
Gabe never gave me anything. Lachlan has given me everything he can under the circumstances.
The realization has me glancing up in the direction of the tower library on the floor above.
I’ve read in there three times and even researched opening my bookstore.
I talked to his mother about that too, as silly as that sounds.
I told her my idea and my vision. In my mind, she gets it and is rooting for me.
Nothing is scary or off up there. It’s peaceful and has become my favorite retreat in this massive place.
My silliest idea yet comes to mind. Instead of dismissing it, I exit my room, stroll through Lachlan’s immaculate bedroom, and then open the door to the tower library. Once at the top, I close the door and sit on the recliner.
“Hi, Mrs. Caldwell. It’s me again.” I glance around the curved bookshelves and the window with light trickling in.
“I have a favor to ask. Two actually.” I take out my phone and bring up the email.
“I need to read something that’s important to me, and I’m nervous.
I don’t know how it’s going to make me feel, and I’m not sure if I can do it alone. ”
I take in a breath and exhale slowly.
“If you wouldn’t mind being with me right now, I’d really appreciate your company.”
With that, I dig in. The information reads like a report. My mom’s full name was Elora Marie Farina. She was twenty-four when she died. She was also about my height. Unlike my caramel eyes, hers were hazel. She was born in Sanremo, Italy, near the south of France, and her father was Swiss.
Her parents never married. She moved to America with her mom when she was three.
Her mom worked in housekeeping for wealthy families in New England.
She followed her mom’s line of work after she graduated high school and eventually ended up in Connecticut.
She interviewed for the surrogate position with my dad but ended up pregnant with me the natural way.
A sigh of disgust escapes me at what my dad did.
But then, I’m imagining him at the age he is now.
At the time, he would have been thirty-five.
Eleven years older than her. Mom said Dad and her had been in love for the first four years of their marriage until he took a mistress.
Was my birth mom that mistress? The woman who ruined it all for Mom, according to her.
Dad is the one who ruined it. This is why falling in love is not something I want to do.
Lachlan was right. Love does kill. Not in the way he believes, but I agree it kills the spirit.
I open the three pictures attached to the email.
One looks like a job photo of my birth mom.
It’s creepy how much we look alike. The next is a full body picture that also looks like it belongs in a job file.
She’s standing against a white wall with her hands at her sides wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
Her bust is generous, like mine, but her hips aren’t as narrow.
She’s a bit more proportioned. The last picture is of her out by the pool of the estate near a large rose bush.
It looks like she was smelling or admiring the flowers and someone called her name.
She’s smiling and bathed in sun. Her golden hair hangs past her shoulders.
She’s in a white dress with her hands under her pregnant belly.
It’s barely visible. I wouldn’t have known she was pregnant had she not been holding her belly the way she is.
Unlike the other photos, she looks happy, although there’s a sadness in her eyes.
Because she was going to give us up—me and my brother?
Because she didn’t want to live there any more than my mom wanted her to?
Because she knew she hurt my mom? So quickly, I paint my birth mom as the villain.
She was the other woman, but did my dad manipulate her like he does so many?
Is she a victim of my dad’s controlling nature like my mom, just in a different way? Who took this?
I sit there stewing, my arms crossed, and my brows drawn tight. What kind of life could my birth mom have had if she didn’t fall prey to my dad. Did she fall prey or was she out for more too—for whatever she could get because she needed it?
Where was her mom when she died?
Why didn’t my parents tell me the truth when I was old enough to understand? Did they not trust me to keep their secret? What about my brother? Where is he buried? Where is she buried?
I scan the email. There isn’t much about him other than his premature weight, his name—Everett Garyn Spencer—and here it is.
.. All this time my twin’s ashes were in the backyard among the rose bushes near the woods.
We never had many roses. I assumed they weren’t Mom’s favorite.
But the ones we had are on the left side of the house in a place less frequented.
A stone bench rests among them and a bird bath fountain is nearby.
It’s peaceful, but I never spent a lot of time there.
I was always on the other side of the yard near the orangery and where parties are held.
This bench is an urn that holds the ashes of my brother and my mom.
It’s been their resting place for my entire life.
I’ve never been so stunned. My breath hitches and tears burn my eyes.
So many times I walked by that place and ignored it.
I didn’t even give the roses so much as a glance.
I just followed the path that leads to the garage.
I gasp. Lachlan and I took that path when we were at the estate.
Did they know when I was near? Did they think I was ignoring them?
What about Pippa? Does she know they’re there? Is that why we never had roses in the house? I don’t want them there anymore, and I can’t explain why other than they were mine and we deserve a place of our own.
Creaking draws my gaze to the left. Lachlan stands near the doorway, watching me like he’s been there a while.
“How are you doing?” He approaches me like one would a skittish mouse. He takes in my teary eyes and frowns. “Mo bhana-phrionnsa.”
“What does that mean?”
“My princess.”
I try to smile at the sweet nickname, but my lips don’t cooperate.
“Come here.” He lifts me from the chair then sits, pulling me between his legs, my back against his chest. Holding me close, he clasps his hands under my boobs and kisses my hair. “What can I do?”
I shake my head as more tears fall. “Move them.”
“Move what?”
I’m surprised he could understand me. “My family.” I wipe my nose. “I don’t want their ashes there.”
“Oh.” He hugs me tighter and kisses my hair again. “You read it all?”
I nod and turn my head toward his warmth.
He shifts me so I’m cradled on his lap and brushes my hair from my sticky cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
“How’d you know I was in here?” My voice is soggy.
He opens his mouth but hesitates.
“Just tell me.”
“I have cameras. I watched you come up. I sometimes watch you while you’re in here.” He studies me for my reaction.
I stiffen from embarrassment. “That’s not cool.”
His mouth curves with a faint smile. “I like that you talk to my mum. I do it too.”
He does? “In here?”
He nods, and I don’t feel as self-conscious.
“Do you have cameras in my bathroom and bedroom?”
“Not the bathroom.”
Does anything humiliate this man?
“Do you watch me in there?”
“Sometimes, but only when you’re sleeping or about to.”
“That’s creepy.”
“It’s a compliment. I’ve never wanted to watch anyone before. Not in the way I watch you.” He runs the backs of his fingers down my cheek. “So prideful and beautiful. My golden princess.”
I lean into his light touch, needing the contact. It’s so gentle compared to how he touches me other times. His body is strong and warm under mine. His face and lips so close, his woodsy, ocean scent intoxicating. He stares at me like I’m a lifeline—someone who can save him.
And right now, I want to be his savior. I want to be his sun. “I want to be with you,” I murmur, my gaze locked onto his.
His eyes flash with shock? Excitement? Disbelief?
I cup his cheek and lean up to kiss him.
He meets me halfway, his lips soft and pliant in a way they’ve never been before. I sweep my tongue into his mouth first. My breath catches at the contact. He tastes like toffee, honey, and spice but also like liquor. It’s a turn-on.
“What is that?” I lick my lips.
He half smiles. “A sweet brandy. I thought you’d prefer it to scotch.”
He changed his drink for me because I got sick. That turns me on too. “You planned this?”
“No. But I’m always hopeful when it comes to you.”
More turn ons. I kiss him again, wanting to lose myself in Lachlan and leave behind this sapping heartache for a little while. The kiss grows more intense. Each swipe of his tongue sends a spark of heat to my core.
I straddle his lap on the oversized recliner. His hard erection meets my wet panties.
“Lachlan?” I sigh and cup his cheeks, kissing him harder, deeper. Nothing has ever felt more right.