20. Maeve
CHAPTER 20
MAEVE
A few blocks pass where I’m sure he’s lying. How the hell does he even know about this party? Then my mind drifts to my phone, and I’m sure there was some reminder that I need to attend today and be up to standards.
My gaze repeatedly finds him, and I want to beg him to turn around. This is too much. The tattoo he put on my neck the day before yesterday is still healing. My neck is swollen, and the skin is rough. It’s bad enough that I’m tattooed, but it’s in an unfortunate in-between state as it heals. This will disgust my father.
Anxious chills race up and down my spine. He pulls up in front of the giant estate, and I start to hyperventilate. I hoped until this very moment, this wasn’t real—that he was bluffing and had no clue where she lived. He’s never been here as far as I remember. The car pulls down the long gravel drive, and a few minutes later, we’re parked in front of my dad’s sister’s home, Aunt Maura.
This is going to be awful.
All memories I have of her are denying me food or signing “a minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips,” so of course I hate this bitch with all my heart. In normal circumstances, I don’t want to see her, but dressed like this with a new tattoo around my throat? I don’t think I can handle seeing her. I built my self-esteem despite my family’s best efforts, so this particular scenario is torture. It’s the worst one he’s managed yet when the news has definitely reached them, and they’ve seen the pictures.
I’m actually surprised I haven’t heard from any of them, but then I remember my phone is still solidly in his possession. Diego climbs out first, circling the car. He opens the door for me with a sick smile, and extends his hand.
“Let’s go.”
He nailed it. It’s stupid to say that this is the most perverse of all the things he could have done. The tattoo doesn’t even bother me that much if it wasn’t for the fact my family will see it.
It’s childish to want to impress people you don’t respect, but their comments are the root of all my traumas. They never cared about me unless I was doing something bad, and then the comments always hit home.
“This is a bad idea,” I tell Diego.
He smiles, jerking his head toward the house. “Oh, it’s an excellent idea. Where’s my little daredevil? If you can steal cars, you can face your family.”
This is the second time he’s mentioned he knows about my criminal activities. “What else do you know about me?”
He shakes his head, almost as if he’s disappointed in me. “I made the Sinclairs my business the moment your father kicked us out. I know everything about my target. I know everything you’ve done in your entire life.”
The way he says it makes it sound like he doesn’t think it’s added up to much, and he’s right.
The reminder of what my father did makes me sick to my stomach. My arms wrap around my midsection, and I end up nodding my agreement rather than arguing. I hate that my dad knew Miss Angie was sick. I hate that not only did he kick a woman with cancer out of his house but he also never bothered to tell me, even knowing how much I loved her.
He moves toward the house with his hand wrapped around my arm. It’s not the dramatic dragging he’s favored previously, but there’s an air of coercion to how I’m shuffled up to the door.
My father has always managed to destroy the things I love or somehow dirty them. Even ballet, which he never wanted to take from me, bolsters his ego and tears mine down. I was never enough for him to come and watch. My performances weren’t worth his time, except when he used me to look good. I should have guessed the only reason he’d ever come to a ballet class was when my teacher was good enough to be a second wife.
My guilt drives me straight to Aunt Maura’s door without more of a complaint even though Diego doesn’t have a gun pressed to my temple. A part of me agrees with him. I should pay for my sheltered life. I should pay for spending the money that could have saved her. I should pay for his pain. Fair really doesn’t matter because Diego and Miss Angie have already paid. It’s my turn.
He rings the doorbell with glee, and I turn to him, nothing but pity in my eyes. “You can torture me as much as you want. It won’t bring her back. I’m sorry.”
His smile falls, his face frozen in pure pain, and the door swings open before he can react to what I said. My aunt’s maid gasps when she sees me, but I just smile.
“Hey, Dora. This is Diego.”
It’s clear from how she looks at him that she’s seen the article, but the paparazzi haven’t caught me with the new tattoo, and as far as I know, none of the papers reported that Diego and I married. She looks back at me, staring at my dress and the tattoo on my neck as if I have ten heads.
I feel a little guilty for the trouble I’m about to cause because if there’s a mess, she’ll have to clean it and work in the tension. Wouldn’t it be amazing if I could pay my father’s debts and only hurt myself in the process?
I go in and leave Diego to follow me. The dress is too short. It rides up every time I move. I’m underdressed for a stripper. My throat burns a little, not much, but my skin feels wrong stretched over my bones. The few people hanging around the house watch me in stupor, their conversation halting when I make an appearance.
I walk to the garden, holding myself with a sense of dignity that I don’t have anymore. Like Diego said, I’m my stepbrother’s whore, and he’s going to ruin me. Each step opens a wound. Each look breaks something in me. He’s finally making his point, and I realize with heartbreaking certainty there’s no fading in his hatred of me.
The garden is gorgeous during early spring. Aunt Maura is as much about appearance as my father. They have immaculate homes with perfect families and host great get-togethers for friends they shit-talk after the party is over.
This event will be far more interesting than most .
When I arrive on the patio, all conversation ceases. A choking sound is the only greeting, and a long moment passes as we all silently stare at each other.
My aunt is right in front, and her mouth hangs open, the champagne flute halfway to her mouth. A thick strand of pearls sits around her throat, and her empty hand reaches up to clutch them. All the etiquette lessons I received as a child kick in, and I smile at my aunt despite the frigid temperature in the air.
“Thank you so much for having me, Aunt Maura. This is Diego.” I lean forward to kiss her on the cheek as is expected, and she takes a definitive step back.
“What’s that ghastly thing on your neck?” she asks, apropos of nothing.
Diego is gleeful beside me, extending his very tattooed arm to my aunt. “Her husband’s name. Nice to see you again, Maura.”
“Again? I don’t believe we’ve met,” she argues, scandalized at the very idea of knowing someone like him.
“Oh we have, back when your brother was married to my mom. Don’t you remember?”
She gasps, and I watch in horror as my father takes notice of me. He’s just over six foot, fully gray now, with eyes as green as mine, and when his face goes fully red, my heart tries to run away without me. He marches across the garden like a bull aimed at a red flag.
“Maeve,” he says once he’s standing in front of me. “I saw the papers. Everyone saw the papers.” He slides a disgusted look toward Diego before turning his back on him. “Where the hell have you been, and what were you thinking bringing him here?”
“Daddy, I?—”
“What on earth is that on your neck? That’s not real.”
No one can hear him besides us and my aunt. He’s a master at ripping you a new asshole while no one notices. Diego steps into his line of sight, forcing my father to acknowledge him. Knowing what I do, I’m surprised Diego doesn’t kill him right here, but I guess he wants to hurt him more deeply than that.
“Cornelius, tell me you can read.”
He goes an even darker shade of red.
“Tell me it’s not real, Maeve.”
“I-I’m sorry—” I start to apologize, but Diego interrupts me.
“I’m her husband, Cornelius. As far as her bringing me here, she didn’t have a choice. The tattoo on her fucking neck? She didn’t have a choice. You would know all about making choices that go against your wife’s interest, wouldn’t you?”
Diego stares dead into his eyes, waiting for my father’s response.
“Her what?” he seethes. “You let the papers hear you say that shit, and you did what?”
I turn so my father can’t see my face. My sense of dread is so thick now I think I’m going to be sick.
“I’m her husband,” Diego replies. “She’s Mrs. Rodrigues now.” The mocking pride in his tone is enough to seal the deal.
“That’s why you were at the courthouse, Maeve? Have you lost your damn mind?”
The rest of the party seems to take notice now. My quick entrance made it so some people didn’t see me. That’s changed now, and I have one-hundred-percent attention from everyone in the room. Their judgmental stares stick to my skin, prickling down my arms.
I might as well be standing on a stage, but unlike when I do ballet, I’m clueless and lost. There isn’t a single hint to the next step I’m meant to hit. Dad’s eyes are hard and unforgiving. If I thought they were careless and lacked love before, there’s hatred now, and I’m surprised by how much worse that hurts. This shouldn’t be news. I knew what I was doing when I lay on that table. He knows how to intimidate someone, especially me.
He narrows his eyes, looking between Diego and me until he decides on a move.
“Hi, Diego .” Dad puts a nasty emphasis on his name. “So nice to meet you.”
The move shocks me, especially when Diego has already made a dig toward him about controlling his wife when we both know he’s seen that article that talks about how heiress Maeve Sinclair is fucking her ex-stepbrother. He knows exactly who he is.
“Nice to meet you too, sir,” he answers with a sarcastic lilt. “Not as if I lived in your house for two years.”
My father narrows his eyes at him, a long moment of silence stretching.
“Maeve, I’d like to speak with you in private,” Dad says, finally.
“We are a family,” Diego replies. “We have no secrets.”
I flinch at the mention of a family. This whole thing has come full circle in the most disturbing way. The four of us were once a family. Now Miss Angie is dead, and the three of us are a family once more, but in an entirely different way.
“Trust me, son, there are secrets.”
My father has no concern about me following his wishes, and he turns on his heel and walks into the house. I do as he expects, immediately following him to deal with my fate. Diego grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop.
“Don’t.” That’s all he offers me.
I rip my hair out of his grip. “You brought me here, so let me deal with the problem you’ve created.”