“I don’t believe you’d hurt me—”
“You’re so stupid,” he says, and an evil smirk tilts his lips.
Tears sting my eyes. “You’re trying to push me away.”
He chuckles, and the sound is like rotten milk curdling in my soul. He goes back to his punching bag and slams his fists against it. My body jumps with each brutal hit, my muscles wound so tightly that every smack of the bag feels like an electric zap. He hits the bag so hard that the skin on his knuckles breaks. Blood streaks the bag, but it’s not enough to stop him. He brutalizes his own flesh, and every splatter seems to spur him on. He’s hurting himself.
Hurting himself instead of me.
What happened to you?
Even though I don’t voice the question, he seems to hear it. He grabs the bloodied bag as if it’s a life ring. His shoulders rise and fall with heaving breath. He rests his forehead on the red-streaked vinyl.
Slowly, he rolls his head to look at me. His eyes are still black but seem exhausted. “Jesus,” he says in a harsh tone. “You’re still here?”
I suck in a shattered breath.
He used my mom’s cruel words against me. I lift a shaky hand to my lips to keep from crying out loud. He warned me over and over again that he’d hurt me. I should’ve listened to him.
I turn on shaky legs. My heels teeter on the slick floor. I brace one arm on the wall to steady myself. A force slams into me from behind, and I’m pressed against the wall. Alexander’s body is fire against my bare skin as he pins me in place. One hand splayed across my stomach and the other cushioned between my cheek and the wall, he holds me captive.
“Will you go with him?” His harsh growl against my ear sends a sob from my throat. He moans as if the sound causes him pain. “He’s taking you away.” He rests his forehead against my shoulder. “You belong to me.”
“Let me go.” My voice is weak and lacks conviction.
“I can’t,” he whispers. “I should. But I can’t.” His hand on my stomach curls into a fist and grips the silk of my dress. “I told you I’m not a good man. And now it’s too late.”
“Too late?” I’m afraid I don’t need clarification on what he means.
A life for a life.
I close my eyes and feel the cascade of tears fall down my cheeks. “You’re scaring me.”
His body stiffens. The muscles in his arms twitch. He brings his lips to my ear. “Good.”
A blast of cold air hits my back when he releases me. I don’t bother looking at him and scramble from the room. Rather than go to his bedroom, I take the spare room upstairs and lock the door behind me. I go to the bathroom and lock that door, too, and stare at myself in the mirror.
With mascara-stained cheeks and flushed skin, I look myself in the eye and force myself to speak the truth so that I can hear it in my own voice. “I’m in love with him.”
I crumble to the floor in a heap of shame and confusion. He’s pushing me away, and I’m desperate for him to love me. Using my mother’s words against me was evidence enough. Even through her cruelty, I still wanted her to love me. And I’m doing the same with Alexander.
If he refuses to love me back, I can’t throw my life away trying.
If he refuses to love me back, I need to give him what he wants and walk away.
Twenty-Five
Alexander
I open my front door just before seven o’clock in the morning to wait for Hayes as he steps off the elevator. He’s dressed casually for a Sunday because I told him I have important business to take care of and didn’t want to do it at the office. I’m sure he thinks I struck a big deal at the fundraiser last night and want to hammer out details for the contract.
He’s going to be extremely disappointed with the truth.
“Whoa,” he says when he meets me at the door. “Bad night?”
“You could say that.” I jerk my head for him to follow me inside. “Coffee?”
“Please.” He helps himself in the kitchen, and I go back to the window overlooking the city, where I’ve been standing, pacing, and brooding all night. “Want one?” he calls from the kitchen.
“No.” I’ve had enough coffee to launch myself to the moon.
He brings his mug to the sectional and makes himself comfortable. “What’s up?”
My eyes gravitate to the wall above me, where I know Jordan has been since she ran out of the gym last night. I was so afraid she’d leave and I’d never see her again, so I stayed up all night thinking. Overthinking.
I run a hand through my hair, then take the seat opposite him. “I need to tell Jordan about Brandy.” It’s been so long since I’ve said her name that it feels like a foreign language on my tongue.
“What? No.” Hayes carefully sets down his coffee mug as if he fears he’ll drop it, or, more likely, throw it. “No way.” His eyes dart from side to side. “Is she here?” he whispers. “You shouldn’t even be saying her name.”
“She’s upstairs.” I pull at my hair, then slump back against the couch. “I lost it a little bit last night.”
He grows utterly still. “Is she okay?”
I cringe. The idea that he even has to ask makes me sick. “I was cruel, but I don’t think I hurt her.”
“Don’t think? Jesus, Alex.” He cups his head in his hands and rubs his face. He lifts his head and blows out a long breath. “It’s alright. She signed the NDA. She can’t talk—”
“I shredded the NDA.”
He jumps from the couch as if prodded in the ass. “Are you out of your mind? Why would you do that? You realize you’ve totally fucked all of us, right? You selfish prick!”
I grind my teeth, wanting to defend myself, but I know he’s right.
“She’s going to screw us all over,” he mumbles while pacing the length of the window. “We’re so screwed.”
“I want Jordan to know everything.”
“No.” He points at me, his face quickly turning red. “You signed an NDA. If you say shit, brother or not, I’ll sue you myself.”
“I know I did. I won’t say anything.” I stand and meet him face to face, brother to brother, man to man. “That’s why I need you to tell her.”
His face pales.
“Legally, my hands are tied. Yours aren’t.”
“No way.” He shakes his head. “No. No!” He walks away from me. “I won’t do it. I’m going to leave and pretend this conversation never happened—”
“You’re my attorney. As your client, I’m asking you to tell her everything—”
“Not a chance in hell,” he hisses.
“Then, you’re fired.”
He whips around and glares at me. “You can’t do that.”
“I can. As my attorney, if you refuse to do what I ask, I’ll fire you and hire an attorney that will.”
“But August will—”
“He’ll do whatever I want. We both know that.”
His eyes flicker with the pain of a rejected son. He seems to realize his weakness because he turns to steel in a second, and he glares. “If she talks, she can take us all down.”