Chapter Seventeen
Roe
I couldn’t tell if the shivering, shaky sensation radiating across my skin was from fear or anger. I was riding high on both emotions as I went through my routine.
I’d had a fitful night of sleep.
Then I’d woken up and done at-home Pilates and cardio dance workouts to make me feel less puffy, but also to try to clear my head and give my body a dose of endorphins I so desperately needed.
It wasn’t until after I forced myself to eat a little yogurt with granola and fruit, then took myself into the bathroom to shower, that I finally came face-to-face with the evidence of the attack the night before.
I’d been feeling the pain all night and morning, of course, this constant burning ache, and beneath that, the sensation of a bone-deep bruise.
I’d been mostly able to try to push the thoughts about it aside for the sake of sanity.
As I stripped off my shirt and finally saw the damage done, there were no words for the mix of horror and rage I felt.
There was a band around my whole upper arm, the distant outlines of Frank’s fingers. The bruises weren’t even the expected blues or purples. No, these bruises were black; they were so deep, with some tapering off to blue and purple at the edges.
I reached toward it, touching the edge of it. The pain was instant. And enraging.
I’d been in a lot of borderline dangerous situations with men in my life. Predators hung around beauty pageants. Some people who orbited the modeling agency were real creeps. And I’d been in situations that felt scary and uncomfortable. But they’d never devolved into violence.
Something about seeing a man’s anger on my skin worked as a match to the burning fury inside me.
I ignited.
Burned hot and bright.
And I knew I was going to do it.
I was going to go back in there.
I was going to make him apologize.
I was going to play my part.
Then I was going to stand back and watch Milo and his family rip everything away from him.
If Frank wanted to go low, I could take this thing to hell.
I climbed in the shower and then meticulously got myself together, each step feeling like a ritual, like pieces of a persona I was going to be slipping on.
Choosing not to take any chances with my dressing room after such a volatile interaction, I got my makeup on and my hair done at home, using a little extra spray to make sure the curls held up for the walk to work.
Then I put a duster on over my dress to look less conspicuous and put on slides.
I brought nothing except the heels dangling from my fingers and the phone shoved in the secure pocket of the navy dress.
When I made my way onto the street, I saw Remo’s little brother fall into step a few dozen yards behind me.
His presence eased some of the anxiety as I walked down the familiar streets and let myself into the casino through the front doors.
I got to the lounge with just five minutes to spare.
I slipped off my slides near the side of the bar, strapped on my heels, and then shrugged out of the duster.
The bartender’s gaze slid right to my arm.
In an act that felt like complete defiance, I hadn’t even tried to cover up the bruises.
In the past, I never would have gone on stage without makeup covering imperfections.
It was the fantasy of old times I was selling to my audience.
But just this once, I wasn’t going to do that.
They, and especially Frank, were going to see the bitter reality.
I got through all but my last set before the door opened and he finally showed his face.
A wicked smile tugged at my lips at how bad he looked.
I guess the drug cocktail Remo had stabbed into him, and the subsequent visit to the hospital, had really done a number on him.
He looked pale, almost gray, with bloodshot eyes and a sunken look to his cheeks.
Every movement seemed to pain him.
Good.
I hoped he was in agony.
I saw the way his gaze zeroed in on my arm.
It wasn’t regret I saw there, though.
It was confusion.
Maybe even a hint of… concern?
God, did he really not remember it at all?
I held my final note, then smiled at the crowd, blowing my kisses, and watching most of them get to their feet and head out.
I knew he was coming. He had to.
I pulled my shoulders back and reminded myself Archie and the bartender were still around, that there were hundreds of guests just a few yards away. He wasn’t going to hurt me here.
“Jesus, Monroe, what happened to your arm?”
Maybe Frank was a good liar.
But that confusion felt genuine to me.
“Frank, you don’t remember?” I asked, my voice small and guarded. Because me? I was a damn good liar. I’d lied to him ever since the first time we talked since I started working for him.
“Last night is… fuzzy.”
“Frank, you attacked me.” My voice went soft, hurt.
“I… no…”
“Yes. You grabbed me on the street when I was walking home, and you said so many hurtful, awful things to me.” Those tears making my eyes go watery? Pure performance.
“What? Why… I don’t understand.”
“You… you kept calling me terrible things. You said I was a slut and a whore and…” I broke off with a little sob. “I can’t. It was too awful.”
I reached up, wiping a tear off my cheek.
“Something happened to me last night.”
“You were… unhinged.” That word was pushing it, but it was also accurate.
“I was drugged. I don’t even remember it. I don’t even know how I got to the hospital.”
“I called the police,” I told him. “You stumbled and then just… you just fell. You were unconscious. My phone was dead, so I had to run and call for the ambulance.”
“Oh. That fills in some gaps.” He seemed relieved at that. I hated that I gave him even a second of that. “Monroe, you have to know, I would never put my hands on you if I were in my right mind!”
Oh, yeah?
I had a band of bruises that said otherwise.
And I wasn’t going to let him off that easily.
“You really hurt me,” I told him, sniffling. “It still really hurts,” I added.
His gaze slid to my arm again.
“I can’t believe I did that.”
“It’s not just that. Those terrible things you said…” I shook my head, my gaze sliding away like I couldn’t even look at a man who thought those things of me.
“I was out of my mind! I would never say things like that to you. I know you’re my good girl.” Oh, gross. “Maybe I thought I mistook you for someone else. I would never say things like that about you. Or put my hands on you. I… I’m horrified.”
That makes two of us.
“It was horrible.”
“What do you need? What can I do? I can make this right.”
There was nothing anyone could ever do to make up for bruising you on purpose.
“I don’t know. I can’t even… think about it.”
“I’ll think about it. I’ll figure something out. I can’t stand that you can’t even look at me.”
He couldn’t stand that he thought his chances of getting me on my back or knees were gone. That was all this was.
“I hate that I’m thinking about you differently now.”
“You don’t have to! I would never, ever do that to you if I wasn’t drugged.”
Except he had.
“Look, I have an important meeting tonight at Hell’s Kitchen, but tomorrow, tomorrow I will sort this all out and make it up to you. I promise.”
I gave him a little nod, my gaze averted.
Which was good.
Because he didn’t see the joy in my eyes at having information to feed Milo.
“I’m so sorry, Monroe,” he said, shaking his head.
As he walked away, he ran a hand over his head, like he was genuinely perplexed.
That could not have gone better.
I ran over to slip into my slides and put on my duster, then made my way out of the casino.
I waited until I was a few doors away before I reached for my phone to text Milo.
Frank has an important meeting tonight at Hell’s Kitchen. Thought that might be important.
His response was quick. Seconds, really.
- Thank you. Can you come to the hotel?
My stomach clenched as my memory flashed back to being caught leaving.
But, I reminded myself, Frank was going to be busy tonight.
Besides, I clocked one of Remo’s guys nearby. Surely, if he knew Frank was around, he would text Milo not to let me leave.
On my way.
I still couldn’t stop myself from glancing all around, paranoid that Frank or his men might be anywhere. But I saw no one watching me but Remo’s guy as I quickly rushed into the hotel.
Milo must have been waiting by the door because it flew open as soon as I walked up.
“Where’s all your stuff?” he asked, brows pinching as he moved aside to let me in.
He was in another of his suits, but the jacket was draped over a chair and his sleeve buttons were undone. He looked like he’d just come in and had started to get comfortable.
I dropped my heels behind the door.
“I just wanted to be quick tonight,” I said, shrugging.
“Why?” he asked.
But it was right then that I pulled off my duster.
His gaze zeroed in on my arm.
I swear it was like a current shot through him.
His whole body jolted.
His jaw went to stone.
When his gaze cut up to mine, it was shock and fury fighting for dominance in his eyes.
“What the fuck is that?”