Chapter 19 Soon after Bryce walks out, the doorbell rings. I shrug-ow!-into a bathrobe, all my muscles protesting, and then stand up. My legs almost give out. Thank God Bryce isn't here to witness this. His head would never be able to squeeze through any door. The bathroom mirror shows hickeys all over my neck and chest. I pull my hair forward, then yank the lapels tighter to hide the red marks. The second I open the door, a uniformed server pushes in a beautiful cart laden with spotless, shiny silver domes. The elderly man opens each with a flourish, only to reveal a bowl of cornflakes and a jug of milk in a gorgeous crystal jug. There is also a small bowl of fresh berries and whipped cream on the side and a fresh pitcher of coffee. "I didn't order this," I say, crossing my arms. I still sound hoarse, and I wince inwardly. Given how much I screamed last night, it would've taken a miracle for me not to damage my voice. "Mr. Huxley did." The man hands me a lavender silk and satin satchel. "And some Epsom salts for you." He shows me a slip, and I scrawl my name on the paper. I keep my arms folded and stare at the food and Epsom salts with apprehension. What's this about? Act nice and confuse the opponent? If it is, he's succeeded. I am completely confused. He talks like a complete asshole, then does little unexpected things like this. Like the cereal in his house. Like having clothes and shoes for me delivered to his place. And last night, he clung to me desperately, like he couldn't bear to let go. Then he cajoled, wheedled and coaxed me all night long, trying to get me to kiss him, growing more determined each time I turned away. It's almost as though he needed some sort of confirmation that I still care about him. If I'd sensed even a hint of vindictiveness in his dark gaze, I might've scoffed and pushed him away. But he seemed sincere without the usual shield he put up around him-or the asshole-worthy snarks. When he looked wounded at yet another rejection, I almost forgot myself and kissed his eyes. Don't, I tell myself. It wasn't Bryce-it was the drugs talking. Whatever he had last night must've taken down his inhibitions. Part of me wants to believe his behavior under the influence last night was the real deal, but I'm not gambling with my emotional wellbeing. It took a lot of therapy and healing to feel normal after leaving Cambridge. And although I'd like to believe I'm stronger after the ordeal, it isn't entirely true. Whatever is keeping the fragments of my heart together now isn't strong enough to withstand another onslaught. Exhaling, I sit down and start on the cereal, remembering when we first met. It's so silly how I thought maybe my life could be different just because Bryce said, "You don't seem like Finn. The name doesn't fit you somehow." Such a small thing, but in that moment I felt seen-like I wasn't just Finley's shadow, just a tool to soothe Sherry's pain. I didn't realize until then how uncomfortable and stifled I'd been, living in that identity. And on our first date, I automatically ordered grilled halibut, but Bryce noticed I'd eyed a steak and baked potato on the next table and asked if I didn't really want that instead. That was when I realized I didn't even let myself like things unless Finley had loved them too. And it was also the first time anyone had told me to take what I wanted. My heart melted. I think that's when I started to really fall for him, because he didn't measure me against Finley. I was just Fiona. Tears prickle my eyes. It was the most wonderful time of my life, when I felt loved...except it shattered at the end. You never deserved that kind of love. I wipe the tears away and laugh at myself. Yeah. Who am I to think I could do better? If Finley hadn't drowned, nobody would've looked at me twice. I would've been passed from one foster home after another and probably fallen through the cracks like so many unwanted kids. Or gotten abused by some asshole like that man my first adoptive parents whispered about. I finally managed to get out of the toxic situation and went to Wisconsin. But now I've been dragged back, where things are so much worse than before. Zachary told me the harder I worked, the better my life would be. But in my experience, it's the opposite. The harder I work, the worse my situation becomes. I sip coffee to wash away the bitter taste in my mouth and check my phone. Nothing from the loan sharks. How strange. Aren't they eager to get their money back? Why so silent now? Maybe they got arrested by the police. Or better yet, run over by a truck... Three knocks at the door. I sigh. What did Bryce send now? I put down my phone and open the door. "You should tell Mr. Huxley-" "Finally!" Aaron! My heart in my throat, I try to slam the door in his face, but he's faster. He pushes the door open, shoving me hard as he invades the suite. "You stupid- Argh! What the fuck were you thinking running away from the wedding? Do you know what kind of trouble you've caused? You fucked me over!" Aaron screams, spittle flying everywhere. He doesn't seem to be exaggerating his predicament. He sports circles so dark, they look like black eyes. His cheeks are sunken. There are lines on his forehead that weren't there before, and no razor has touched his face in days. His wrinkled suit is the same as the one from the wedding, just dingier-he probably hasn't changed, either. I stare in shock, registering only half his screaming. It isn't like him to overlook grooming. Aaron cares way too much about his appearance. "How did you find me?" I ask. He opens his mouth, then shuts it. Probably did something shady and won't admit to it. "You can't hide from me. I'm much smarter and more resourceful." Of course. "I told your loan shark I'd pay." I say the words slowly, trying to hide my impatience and irritation and get through to him. He spins toward me, his fists tight and shaking. "Don't lie to me!" he screams. "They came for me at the house just this morning, while Mom was at a temple to pray." His red-rimmed eyes glare at me. "I was left alone to fend for myself! It was so unfair." I blink. His nostrils flare. He breathes hard. Not a hint of relief that Sherry was spared the scene. Just fury because he undoubtedly had to grovel to avoid getting his knees broken or something. What's happened to him since college? I don't recognize my adoptive brother anymore. Although Aaron was never nice to me, he was always a good son. He strove to meet his father's lofty expectations and humor his mother to keep her depression and emotional outbursts at bay. The Aaron I knew would never have been this self-centered. What little respect I had for him dies. "It's your debt," I remind him impassively. "Sherry has nothing to do with it." "So? She's my mom. She has some money set aside that she could use to help me out." He sounds betrayed. "I just found out." My shoulders sag with relief. She'll be able to maintain a decent lifestyle. The woman's powerless and wouldn't know what to do if she had to earn her own money. "Well, good. But it's her money, not yours." "I'm her son! I deserve that money!" "She deserves to live out the rest of her life in dignity, Aaron!" His face reddens with guilt and embarrassment, but his eyes glint with resentment. He hates it when I act like a daughter to his mother because I'm "trying to replace Finley in Sherry's heart." He conveniently forgets that it was his father who brought me in to do just that. "Why are you so upset, anyway?" I keep my tone calm to avoid escalation. "I was the one marrying a monster, remember?" He glares at me. "Jude's no monster." "If you like him so much, you marry him." "Shut up, dumbass!" Aaron points a finger in my face. "You're going to go to him, get on your knees and beg for his forgiveness. He was nice and sentimental enough to agree to marry you because of shared memories. But now, he'll probably just keep you as a mistress or something." He shakes his head, muttering something about pearls and swine. "I'll do no such thing." "Yes, you will." He grips my arm and starts pulling me toward the door. I dig my heels in. "Stop it! What's wrong with you?" "You asking me what's wrong? You fucked up the wedding and you now want me dead! Jesus, my life is worth more than two million! Jude's being gracious by offering to pay that much for your body. It isn't like you're a virgin." "Oh my God! Medieval much?" "Shut up. You owe it to my dad for giving you a home!" He tightens his hold and yanks me to the door. "No!" I try to pull away, but he's much too strong. I scratch his hand hard enough to leave red marks, but he's beyond caring. "We can do it the easy way or the hard way," he grinds out. "Your choice." "What the hell kind of choice is that?" I shoot back, fury and helplessness overpowering my senses. He twists my arm up behind my back. A burning sensation shoots along my upper arm and scapula. I cry out. "Wow," a woman's voice says. "Is that the easy way? What would be the hard way? I might be able to learn a thing or two." Aaron and I freeze, his hand still holding my arm in a painful lock. He loosens it slightly, not letting go, but the pain eases, thank God. I glance sideway at the person who interrupted, not all that hopeful. The door is somehow open, and a fortyish brunette in a fashionably tight blue dress is standing in the doorway. She doesn't seem willing to help me. She actually seems to be entertained. She leans closer. Her blue eyes glow with unholy interest, and the smile is a bit too wide. A dangerous vibe emanates from her. Aaron doesn't seem to share my evaluation. He shoves me aside and turns to her. "Lady, this is family business, nothing to do with you. Now get out of here before I fuck you up." She straightens and puts a fancily manicured hand over her chest. "Fuck me up?" She points at Aaron. "You?" "Yeah, me." His chest puffs out like he's a rooster gearing up for a fight. She snickers. Genuine amusement glitters in her eyes. Every hair on my body stands. Suddenly she lashes out, a backhand that connects with Aaron's face hard enough to make a cracking sound. His head snaps to the side and he bends slightly, covering his mouth with one hand. She steps closer and kicks his balls with a stiletto. He screams and falls, curling onto one side. "Say it again." Her voice is calm, almost dulcet. "Say you're going to fuck me up." Another kick, this time to his stomach. He groans, wrapping his arms around his belly. "Come on. Say it and I'll stop." She smiles, not even breathing hard. She's lying. The steely glint in her ice-cold eyes says she won't stop until she's convinced Aaron's learned his lesson. Red spreads on his hands. I squint. What the...? I let out a gasp when it hits me-blood! Her shoes aren't just any old footwear. "Stop it!" I say. "You're going to kill him!" Aaron's a horrible human being, but he doesn't deserve to die. She frowns in confusion. "So?" So? "What's wrong with that?" My throat dries. "Because..." I cast about helplessly. "Murder is bad...?" "Oh, sweetie." She laughs. "Murder isn't bad. Getting caught is." "You'll get caught! The body alone... There are security cameras inside the hotel-the cops are going to know!" "Cameras, a body..." She shrugs, her palms turned upward. "Do you think he'd be the first body I've had to bury?" My knees tremble. Oh my God. "You look like you're about to lose your room service, so I'll let him live. But you'll need a stronger stomach if you want to bear a great-grandchild for my father." What? I just stare, unable to process. She kicks Aaron one last time. He remains limp, doesn't even moan anymore. "How did you get in?" I ask shakily. "The door was open. You should keep it closed for security." "Right." I'm never opening one again without checking first. "You should be grateful. You're lucky I dropped by when I did. Imagine what could've happened." She saunters to the room service table, looks at the empty cup of coffee and tsks. "And you shouldn't drink coffee when you're trying to get pregnant. It's not good for the fetus." "I'm not trying to get pregnant." "Not trying?" She turns her head, the motion like that of a possessed doll. "Why do you think I sent you? Not so you could just enjoy his body, you stupid whore. You better not have lied to me. You'd better be ovulating, and you better have ensured he came without condoms. He should've emptied every one of his swimmers into you last night. Wouldn't have been able to find any respite without being balls deep." The more she says, the more lost I become. I've never even met this woman before. But there are enough clues for me to figure one thing out. "Are you talking about Bryce?" "Obviously. I already have someone else working on Josh." She tilts her head, her arctic eyes studying me up and down. "Although...you're sort of disappointing. I thought I was going to get somebody with bigger tits, a tighter waist and longer legs. A bit more flair and sex appeal. You're sort of...drab. Small tits. Slightly paunchy." My jaw drops at the way she catalogues what she perceives to be my flaws in that flat tone. "You like dairy, don't you?" she says, waving a hand vaguely in my direction as she heads to the minibar. "The extra fat around your hips." She sighs, then pulls out a bottle of Merlot and studies the label while twirling a corkscrew between her long fingers. "I want the best for my son." Son? "He deserves better. You're..." She twirls the corkscrew in the air. "You're Bryce's mom?" "Of course. The Zoe Dunkel, in the flesh. Couldn't you tell? We look alike." Her smile dares me to disagree. I can still see Aaron's prone body on the floor in my peripheral vision. I keep my mouth shut. "Did he even fuck you last night? How many times did he come inside you?" Nausea roils through my stomach. "That's disgusting. He's your son." Her eyes narrow. "Take off your robe. Let me see." "What?" I cross my arms. "No!" She strikes before I can take my next breath. Her hand grasps the robe lapel, her forearm putting enough pressure on my neck to cut off some of the air. I stumble backward, with her pushing forward, until my back slams into the wall. I start to twist away, then scream when she raises the corkscrew toward my face. I squeeze my eyes shut and jerk my head to the side, praying she slashes my cheek rather than something more important. "Stop being ridiculous and open your eyes before I gouge them out." Her licorice breath fans over my cheek, sending chills down my spine. Adrenaline burns in my veins. I shake from the need to run or flee, neither of which is possible. She's much stronger than she looks. Panting, I obey, then inhale sharply. My heart pounds a thousand beats a minute at the sight of the corkscrew a hairsbreadth away from my left eye. "Open. Your. Robe," she commands. "No argument unless you want to go blind. You don't need eyes to bear children." I undo the belt with trembling hands. Humiliation and fear clutch my throat. I spread the robe, thinking of her violent attack earlier. She's still gripping the lapel, so I can only open it so much. Or so I plan to tell her if she gets upset. Her eyes glide from my chest to belly to crotch. She sniffs, then wrinkles her nose. "Good. I guess you did all right after you gave him the meds. At least you aren't totally useless." Her tone says that useless people don't get to live. She eases the pressure off my neck and takes half a step back, although the corkscrew remains perilously close to my eye. My eyelashes flutter, the sensation of brushing against the cold metal sickening. A sob catches in my throat. My eyes burn from keeping them open, but I don't dare blink. "Here." The woman drops a small Ziploc bag full of powder into my bathrobe pocket. "Use this next time. It's more potent than the compound from last night. And remember: there are other girls after him. Whoever gets pregnant with his baby first wins." My mind freezes with shock and disbelief. She's psychopathic. Absolutely mad. "Since you did well last night, I'm going to do you a favor. I'll clean up that trash, still breathing, because you seem fond of him. But you should warn him-the next time he manhandles you, he's dead. I'm not risking anything happening to my key to the kingdom." Her gaze drops to my belly briefly, then she tosses the corkscrew on the floor and struts away, dragging Aaron by his collar on her way out. When the door shuts behind her, I wrap the robe tightly around myself and drop to the floor. I stick my head between my knees and focus on breathing as my heart races faster. The adrenaline still sizzles in my veins. Just what the hell was that? Wait a minute... She said I gave Bryce "meds." Given the way she spoke, I doubt she wanted to feed him Tylenol. He was insatiable last night, refusing to go limp, drowning me in orgasms once he realized edging me wasn't going to earn him a kiss. She drugged him-her own son. So that he'd impregnate some random girl. I cover my mouth as another wave of nausea roils. What kind of people do things like that? Has she done it before? Does he know it was his mother who drugged him? That might explain why he waited until I was up and ordered room service and Epsom salts. He probably felt guilty about the entire incident. Why didn't he warn me, so I'd be prepared? Now I'm on his mother's radar. She's seen me-and worse, has taken Aaron, who'd sell me out in a heartbeat just to see me suffer-and thinks I'm going to give her a grandchild. No. A great-grandchild for her father. Oh God. Uncontrollable tremors rack through me. What do I do now? Can I even run? Will that psycho woman let me? As my predicament becomes clearer, resentment and anger start to rear their heads. Bryce has to know his mother isn't normal, but he dragged me into it anyway. If another girl drugged him last night, he could've just spent the night with her and left me out of it. We don't have the kind of relationship that requires fidelity. And getting entangled with his Looney Tunes mom wasn't part of the deal, damn it. I jump to my feet and put on my clothes-or try to. The underwear is ruined, and the only things still intact are my trench coat and shoes. I slip into them, cinching the belt tightly. I open the Uber app, my fingers clumsy with nerves. The question on the screen: Where to? The burst of energy that got me moving drains away. I lean against the wall, then slowly slide down until my butt hits the floor. 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