Chapter 17
NOVA
Iwas now in a group chat of several women from The Circle, plans being made near constantly. I’d obviously muted the chat; between boutique workout classes, sound baths, spa days, dinner, drinks, brunch, dancing, walking, shopping—how the hell did any of them get any damn work done?
I supposed they didn’t have to. The only woman in the group I’d ever heard speak about a traditional job was Jayne, and her work was The Circle. She had plenty of help with that.
The Midsummer party was in two days. I opened the door to the apartment, greeting Inara and her series of squeaky meows.
“Where have you been this time?” Delilah asked like a parental figure.
“Yoga and then dinner.”
“With them?” Hudson gasped.
“It was all free! I’m taking advantage of the opportunities presented to me, as someone low on food money. And money generally. Which you both encouraged, might I remind you.”
Delilah and Hudson exchanged a glance. I hung my purse by the door and stepped out of my shoes.
“We saw the invitation,” Delilah blurted.
I froze. “The one in my room?”
“I was only in there because Inara was making retching sounds and I wanted to throw a towel down to spare your carpet,” Hudson said. “So you’re welcome. But it was a false alarm, and the invitation was sitting on your desk. Not exactly hidden.”
“Nova, that address is outside the city. Like, you’d have to take the Metro-North.”
The way Delilah emphasized the location made it seem like I was entering an active war zone. “Well, they can’t exactly host hundreds of people in a townhouse, now can they? There aren’t many super-mansions in the city.”
We all migrated to the living area, where I prepared Inara’s last wet food meal of the day. She meowed like she was on the brink of starvation.
“Super-mansions,” Hudson repeated slowly, horror-struck.
“I know we’ve done our fair share of joking about all of this, but I was under the impression we were talking about upper middle-class to lower upper-class tomfoolery, maybe some wealthier finance people thrown in the mix, or C-list celebrities.
I didn’t realize we were talking about the ultra-wealthy. ”
“What does it matter? I’ve been explaining the level of sketchiness to you both the entire time,” I said.
Well, okay, I may have left out certain parts—such as the terrifying truth that the heir to Wave Platforms Incorporated was not only a member of The Circle, but also somehow fixated on me.
“There’s a huge difference between the wealthy and the ultra-wealthy, Nova,” Hudson said. “One is flashy. They can dazzle you with fancy dinners and nice cars and a four-million-dollar townhouse in Chelsea. The other can fucking own you. Like they already own the government, the media, the…”
“World!” Delilah finished with a nod. She brushed her blonde waves out of her face as she pinned me with concern. “Have you been watching the news lately? Now is not the time to blindly trust you’re in the hands of the benevolent overlords at their remote estate.”
“I’m not blindly trusting shit,” I protested, irritated they didn’t trust my judgment or my ability to take care of myself.
“And if you finally believe this group is as dangerous as I’ve been saying, then you understand why I can’t just abandon Lorelei with them.
All that horrible stuff she said to us before she left—it was probably that mystery man’s brainwashing, isolating her from us. ”
“She was horrible long before she joined this cult,” Hudson said coldly. “And I don’t want to beat that dead horse anymore. I’m concerned about you now.”
Yep, definitely not the right time to bring up Roman Graves or the… auction. I’d tell them after I extracted Lorelei.
I sighed. This was honestly ridiculous. Who knew the Metro-North was all it would take to change their tune about an obviously sinister cult?
Was it obvious? It was all so confusing. There were layers to this. On the one hand, The Circle waxed poetic about consent, community, sisterhood, and freedom from fear and shame. On the other, mysterious men in masks found Wes and me on the subway and blew cigar smoke in our faces.
Some parts of The Circle made me feel alive, while others made me fear for my life.
“Wes agrees with you, okay? He’s looking out for me.”
“Ohhh, what a relief!” Hudson rolled his eyes hard, laughing in astonishment. “Some random man we don’t know, who you met inside the cult, is going to protect you from the psychopathic billionaires!”
“I know him,” I said, even though it was only half-true. I only knew the parts Wes shared with me. “And he’s not like them. He’s…”
God, I still didn’t know what Wes was. But he certainly didn’t want me near this party either.
“Have you fucked?” Delilah asked, seeming to forget about the severity of the conversation. Her eyes lit up as she waited in giddy anticipation.
Hudson glared at her, then at me.
“No,” I said. “We’re just friends.” Bitterness coated my tongue, and I was suddenly too exhausted to continue this conversation. “I have to finish up some work. I hear you guys. Thanks for caring about me, but stop worrying. It’ll all be over after I find Lorelei Saturday.”
With that, I retreated to my room. Everything had become heavy. My shoulders drooped with a sudden weight.
When I glanced at my phone, I saw several messages in the girls group chat. Memes, laughing reactions, affirmations, vulnerability, and warmth.
No heaviness. Everything in Jayne’s world was easy and free.
Saturday morning, I received two different texts.
Jayne
We’ll be sending a car for you, darling. Send me your address.
Wes
Ride with me.
My people pleasing trauma response activated in an instant, caught between both orders.
I stared at the ceiling. I remembered every time Wes had commanded me to only do what I wanted to do—as if it was ever that fucking easy.
What I wanted to do with Wes was always far too complicated.
I made my decision. My fingers typed furiously before I left the phone on the bed and began my day.
I gave up on doing anything but prepping for the night as nerves ate me alive.
Delilah and Hudson were both out, having already given up trying to talk me out of it.
I was under the harshest of orders to text them immediately when I was on my way home, and if they didn’t hear from me by morning, they would be calling the police and sending them to that address.
Which was fair. I was grateful for the backup, as useless as it might be in the face of tech oligarchs.
I kept the angelic fairy lingerie in the boxes, knowing I would need to change at the mansion. The girls lit up the group chat with texts about taking over a bathroom to help each other get ready.
I wasn’t used to being in groups of women like this. On the one hand, it was scary. On the other, they were kind of sweet. It was nice to be included, to have a safe place to land at such a nerve-racking event—an event I still didn’t understand why I’d been invited to.
If this whole thing really was run by the ultra-wealthy, I didn’t belong anywhere near it.
Yet, here I was, getting into another cheap black satin dress, doing my makeup and spritzing myself with perfume as my hands shook.
I checked Lorelei’s account with my burner. No new posts. Her single story slide was of an elaborate brunch spread. I could just make out a male hand next to her and another female hand across the table. That was it. No words. No music.
She was fueling for the big night. Did she know I was coming? Had someone mentioned me to her? Or were they protecting my identity too?
In a few short hours, I would see the girl I ran across state borders with the moment we turned eighteen.
I would tell her I loved her. I would tell her she could get better, and I would help her do it.
Us against the world, I could nearly hear her whisper, the same as she did that day we decided our plan. We were sitting on the floor of my childhood bedroom, her hands in mine as we whispered and giggled.
Take a train to New York. Change our names. Leave it all behind and never look back.
Everything tied up in a neat little bow.
We could escape again—that was what I’d tell her tonight. I would escape with her over and over again if it meant she’d finally be free of what had happened to her.
I finished getting ready and forced myself to eat something even through the anxiety. I needed sustenance to keep my wits about me.
My phone buzzed. I grabbed my bag and the boxes of lingerie and headed downstairs to the black car that awaited me.
The driver took my things and opened the door.
I slid inside and turned to Wes. “Hi.”
His eyes were dark and moody, just as I predicted they’d be. His smile was tense. “Hi.” He released a long breath, quickly scanning me.
He fell somewhere between classy and edgy tonight, with a white shirt with several buttons undone, black slacks, and heavy boots.
“Are you even on theme?” I raised a brow.
Don’t look at his chest. Don’t look at his tattooed, muscled chest.
I looked. I swallowed. I quickly glanced away.
Wes smirked. “My shirt is… summery. Like your little fruit dresses.”
I shook my head. “Wowww. I wanted to see you in fairy wings and a flower crown.”
“Ren faire attire is not within my personal aesthetic, and if you haven’t noticed, I don’t particularly enjoy being told what to do.”
“This is new and shocking information.”
“Do you have wings and a flower crown?”
I cleared my throat and glanced out the window. “I do not have a flower crown.”
Wes chuckled, suddenly appearing far too eager. “I cannot wait to see fairy Nova.”
My cheeks burned. I glared at him. I opened my mouth to say I would’ve gone for something far more unique, but I hadn’t been given the choice, nor did I have any money. But I closed my mouth just as quickly, realizing I couldn’t explain to Wes the origins of my outfit.
Horror suddenly racked through me. Fuck. I shouldn’t have accepted Roman’s gift. For so many reasons, but the one that squeezed my chest now was seated right next to me.
“You okay?” Wes asked.
I shook the feeling away. What did it matter? Nothing had changed between us, no matter how I felt when I was around him. He’d set me free to explore.
“Yeah, I’m okay. My roommates are very concerned.”
“I’m glad they’re looking out for you. Despite your stubbornness.”
“I think you mean determination,” I said.
Wes’s smile faded. “Tonight is going to be different than before. Don’t be a martyr, Nova. There are going to be regular people like you…”
“The entertainment,” I muttered.
Wes nodded as he continued. “…and there will be people there who are capable and willing to do unspeakable things merely because they fucking can. They’re hungry ghosts.
Bottomless pits that will never—can never—be satisfied.
They aren’t like us. They do not feel empathy.
They do not care about the law. The only language they speak is power.
They will not stop doing anything they desire unless they are dead. ”
My stomach dropped. The vitriol in Wes’s features made my blood run cold. He seemed to steady himself with a breath, leaning back in his seat and unclenching his fist.
“So you think The Circle’s policy of lifetime bans for consent violations and lawbreaking was all talk?” I asked lamely.
A muscle in his jaw feathered. His laugh was icy.
“No. I believe those are the rules, maybe even rules Archer and Jayne and their fan club truly believe in. But there will be people at this party who have not and will not ever be bound by anyone else’s codes of ethics.
I think that there’s what we see—what is shown to us—and there is what lurks in the shadows, obscured from sight, ready to devour whatever Archer and Jayne inadvertently deliver to them. ”
I swallowed hard. Silly me for thinking riding with Wes would be a comforting balm to my already frayed nerves.
“I guess I’ll choose who I explore with wisely,” I mumbled.
Wes tensed, his eyes boring into mine in an instant. He frowned. “That wasn’t—” He shook his head.
I waited for him to continue speaking, but he never did.
“Well, what about your dance card?” I asked before I could stop myself. Perhaps I was a masochist in addition to being a sub.
Wes was bemused, staring at me for three long beats. “Empty.”
I released a breath.
“I don’t do pick-up play.” When I made a confused face, he explained. “Spontaneous play with strangers.” His gaze burned my skin everywhere it touched. “There is nothing casual about the way I do kink, Nova.”
I studied the flex of his muscles before meeting his eyes. “Used to,” I corrected him.
His face flashed with uncertainty before hardening into cool resolve. “Right.” The word was clipped, his jaw tense.
Wes used to do kink seriously, before something happened that made him swear it off for good.
When he went silent and glared out the window, I sank back into my seat and gave up. I wasn’t going to force him to open up to me. He clearly didn’t trust me enough with that information. Besides, there was plenty of my past I’d kept locked away too.
Yet, I was hurt. I felt silly and childish for choosing him over Jayne. Maybe, just like with Lorelei, I kept crawling back to Wes because I secretly hoped things would be different this time.
I needed to get it through my head that we were reluctant friends and allies, nothing more.
Several minutes passed, and I used them to daydream plot points and scenes and banter for my novel.
“Nova,” Wes said, ending the silence.
I panned to him. “Yep?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Now isn’t the right time, but I want to explain.”
“Explain what?” I asked, even though I already suspected what. I needed Wes to use his goddamn words for once. Broody stares were not an effective form of communication.
“Why I left the scene,” he said. “Why I am the way I am.”
The corners of my lips tipped up. “Intense and confusing and impossible?”
Wes slowly smiled. “Yeah, exactly.”
“You don’t owe—”
Wes cut me off. “Actually, I do. But owe isn’t the right word.” His forehead creased with thoughtfulness. When he next spoke, his voice was softer, his gaze gentler. “I think when it comes to you, deserve is a better word. You deserve to know.”
We angled toward each other, slowly closing more of the space between us. It was subconscious, like we were being controlled by invisible string. Wes glanced at my lips, and his nostrils flared. My own gaze dipped to his open shirt. I released the breath I was holding.
I opened my mouth to ask, why? Why did I deserve to know?
My phone rang, and the moment shattered.