I wish I never watched it at all.
It still doesn't change how I feel about her, though.
Chapter Sixteen
Alyssa
I'm leaving the cemetery when my phone buzzes with a message.
Jackson: I know this is random, but I just wanted to tell you how amazing you are.
I stare down at my phone and hit the 'reply' button as I continue walking.
I stumble back slightly when I bump into someone.
I look up with an apology ready to leave my lips due to my clumsiness.
Deep blue eyes meet mine and I stifle a gasp.
Ford.
Before I can say anything, he grabs my arm and spins me around until my back hits a large marble statue.
“You haven't been answering my phone calls,” he growls.
I swallow down the fear rising in my chest. I'm perfectly aware he's called me a dozen times in the last few weeks...I just haven't really been up to talking to him.
“Sorry. I've been busy,” I say.
And then I brace myself. I brace myself for his comment telling me that I'm a whore or something else along those lines, but it never comes.
His gaze locks on Jackson's t-shirt that I never changed out of. “These aren't your clothes. Where have you been?”
“I already told you. Busy,” I repeat.
He leans in close to my ear. “You're getting a little too big for your britches there, sweetheart. Remember who it is that you're speaking to.”
I push my shoulders back and look at him, feeling annoyed now. “You know, lurking around graveyards is a little creepy...even for you.”
His eyebrows draw up in surprise. I haven't given him attitude like this in a very long time. Since I was a teenager.
He positions one of his hands on the statue behind my head. “You know why I'm here. I still mourn your father, unlike you who tarnishes his memory with your internet antics and whore-like ways.”
And there it is.
Ever since that day in his office, I've felt like I was made of glass around him.
But not today.
Today...I feel a little bit stronger. Not a lot, but enough to give him a taste of his own medicine. “Didn't stop you from indulging in my whore-like ways in your office that day, now did it? Or when I was 17 for that matter.”
To say he looks shocked would be an understatement. He opens his mouth to say something but stops himself and looks down at his feet.
“I'm sorry,” he breathes.
I'm certain that I must be hearing things. Ford actually apologizing to me is not something I ever expected to hear in this lifetime.
“What?”
This time, when he looks at me, I see a glimpse of the old Ford. The one who was always there for me. The one who actually loved me. The one who saved me.
“I should have been there for you that day. I turned you away and I treated you like garbage.” He tilts my face up. “I couldn't stand the thought of you giving that part of yourself to someone else. I wanted it to be me that you shared your innocence with.” He closes his eyes. “I thought you wanted it to be me.”
He cups my cheek and looks at me. “I'm fucked up, Alyssa. You make me that way. I have tunnel vision when it comes to you. But I know deep down inside you know that no one else will ever love you the way I do. They’ll only hurt you, sweetheart. And when they do...I'll still be standing here. I'll still be loving you when no one else in the world ever will.”
I'm at a loss for words. Actually, no. I'm not.
“You hurt me, Ford. That day, you broke something inside of me. I never knew you could hurt me like that.”
He pulls me into his arms. “I know, sweetheart. I know. Why do you think I couldn't bring myself to touch you again after that day? I hate myself for doing that to you.”
I rub my cheek along the fabric of his suit and fight back tears because it's so familiar and strangely comforting to be held by him again.
“Let me make it up to you, Alyssa.”
“How?”
“You know how.”
I begin walking away from him, knowing perfectly well why he came here now.
“I told you. I still have to think about it.”
Irritation crosses over his handsome features. “It's been almost a month. How much time could you possibly need? I already gave you the location and even went as far as to set you up with an interview.”
He spins me around. “Don't you want to get vengeance for your father? All I need you to do is go undercover and tell me if DeLuca owns that fight club. We start there and find something we can use. Then we take him and all his other establishments out little by little. I know it's not ideal and it will take awhile. But we need to move stealth-like so he'll never see it coming.”
I bite my thumbnail, hating that what I'm about to say will disappoint him. It's the real reason I've been avoiding him. “I went to the club, Ford.”
His grip on my arm is so tight I'm sure he's going to leave a bruise. “And? What the fuck happened? Why didn't you tell me?”
I wince in part due to his tight hold and because I know I failed him and my father...once again. “And it turns out that it's not his club. I'm sorry. I wanted it to be...but it's not.”
He shakes his head. “No. It is his club. Stop lying to me. Christ, Alyssa...all I needed you to do was go undercover for a week or two— not really all that difficult.”
Easy for him to say, he doesn't have the scars that I do. The scars caused by being a 10-year-old who watched their father get brutally murdered in front of them. All while the killer looked right into her eyes and smirked.
But I still walked into that club knowing it might be his. I still took the risk.
“I'm telling you, it's not his club. Jesus, you think I don't want to help you nail DeLuca? You think I would lie to you about something so important?”
He releases my arm. “How good was the source of your intel?”
Guilt hits me when Jackson's face crosses my mind. Luke, the guy who hired me, was actually my original target. And Lou-Lou quickly became my backup. Well, before I found out what a bitch she was.
I never intended to make Jackson my source, but in the end, he provided me with the answers I needed. And I have no reason not to believe him. He's never lied to me before.
“Trust me,” I say, while digging in my purse for my keys. “I couldn't have found a better source unless it was DeLuca himself.”
Ford's eyes narrow while he holds my car door open for me. “What makes you think this source didn't lie to you?”
I think about this for a second before replying, “Because I trust this person.”
He looks down at my t-shirt and scowls. “Well, I think he's wrong. I'll find another way to get you undercover at a different establishment of DeLuca's.” I open my mouth to protest but he grabs the back of my neck. “And when I do...don't fuck it up again by spreading your goddamn legs for your source this time.”
He releases me and slams the door.
It's only when I'm pulling in the driveway that it dawns on me. How does Ford know my source was a he in the first place?