We take the elevator up from the garage to his condo, and once inside, I hover in the living area, remembering the fight we had when we were here just a few weeks ago. It feels odd being here now.
Baz heads to the bar and pours himself a drink. He drops into one of the leather chaises, all without uttering a single word to me. I glance around, wondering if I’m supposed to hang out here with him or disappear into one of the rooms out of his sight. I roll my shoulders back, deciding to take a seat on the couch next to him and not overthink it.
“When was the last time you remember being happy?” His voice cuts through the silence, his gaze fixed on the tumbler resting on the wooden table. I press my lips together, rubbing them anxiously. I want to tell him the last time I was really happy was before any of this happened, back when I was with him.
But I don’t say that. I shrug. “I don’t really know. Maybe when Madison was still alive?”
His gaze darts to mine, and we stare at each other. I try to get a read on him and what he could be thinking, but his face gives nothing away. He’s back to wearing that blank, aloof mask he’s perfected.
“Did you mean what you said in there?”
I swallow, looking down at the table between us. “Yes.” Emotion clogs my throat, so I shake my head, forcing a dry laugh. “But I know that isn’t an option. I wouldn’t know the first way to get in contact with the agency. And even then, I’m not exactly in any place to care for a child. Hell, I was a mental patient just a month ago. That’s not exactly reassuring.”
He leans back against the chair, nodding mostly to himself. He raises his hand, his thumb rubbing over his bottom lip in contemplation. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”
My stomach twists. News like this can never be good. I straighten on the chair, preparing myself for whatever he’s going to say. “What is it?”
“A publisher reached out to me on your behalf.” My eyes widen as he goes on. “They want to offer you a book deal. Tell your story on a bigger platform.”
I fall back against the couch, flabbergasted. “What? What does that mean?”
“It means you’re being offered the chance to change your life.”
I frown, shaking my head, still unable to wrap my head around what he’s saying. “But why reach out to you? Why not reach out to me?”
“Because you’re mine,” he says so matter-of-factly, my core tugs.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea. The first time didn’t exactly work out great for me. Being with you hasn’t changed the public’s opinion about me.”
He leans forward, resting his hands on his knees. “They’re giving you a chance to tell your story the way it was supposed to be told, Mackenzie. If that isn’t enough of a turning point for you, they’re offering six figures just for signing. That’s not even calculating sales or what else this can bring.”
My breath escapes me in a rush. Six figures? What the hell is happening?
“And you’re okay with this? Me talking about us, about the Savages?”
He shrugs. “It’s not my story. It’s yours. You do what you want.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Baz sighs. He was obviously expecting a different reaction. “Just think about it. This can change your whole life.”
I nod, mostly to myself, letting all that sink in. He drains the contents of his glass and sets it back on the table and pushes to his feet. “Meet me in the room when you’re ready. And lose the dress this time. I want to see all of you when I’m fucking you tonight.”
He turns on his heel, heading toward the bedroom. My stomach dips. So many emotions and thoughts running through my head. In the end, I do just that—my dress long gone as I make my way into his bedroom.
I wake sometime in the middle of the night. Shifting on the sheets, I let out a hiss as my body pangs with soreness. Last night, Baz was rough, and I couldn’t get enough of him. I got the feeling he needed to release his pent-up anger through me, and I let him. I relished in it.
Sitting upright, a frown pulls taut across my face when I realize he’s not in bed. The cool sheets on his side tell me he’s been gone for a while. Sliding off the bed, I pick up his discarded white button-down from last night and slip my arms through it. I button the two middle buttons to keep the shirt closed, then I go off in search of Baz. I pause just near the threshold when I hear his deep voice. He’s speaking in a low tone.
I freeze in place, feeling the sudden need to be silent, instead of making my presence known. As quietly as I can manage, I open the door, blowing out a sigh of relief that it doesn’t creak or make any noise. Poking my head out, I glance around the darkened hall, trying to pinpoint where his voice is coming from. Careful to stay quiet, I follow the sound of his voice.
I realize it’s coming from the living room. I pause just before the threshold, so he doesn’t see me. Resting my back against the wall, I work to control my breathing and listen.
“You think I don’t know that?” Baz hisses to whomever he is talking to on the phone. “If he turns up, you tell me, and I swear to God, Trent, pull this shit again, and I’ll kill you, got me? Zach is back in LA. He’s the next one I’m paying a visit. I suggest you get it together, or I’ll be paying you a visit, and I promise, it won’t be pretty.”
My chest heaves as I step away from the wall, trying to process what I just heard. He said he didn’t know where Zach was, but he just said he’s home. And if Zach is home, that has to mean Vincent isn’t far behind. My stomach clenches and worry slithers through my veins.
I want to believe Baz and his claims that he’s on my side, that he doesn’t trust the Savages, but if he doesn’t trust them, how can he still talk to them so easily, as though nothing is amiss?
Corruption.
That’s the only logical explanation. Real corruption is a thin, subtle blade you don’t feel until it’s lodged deep into your back. Until you feel the blood pour from your flesh and the pain seep from your pores.
I hurry back into the room, careful to leave the door cracked, so I can hear him coming. I climb back on the bed, resting my back against the headboard. Hugging my knees to my chest, I rest my cheek across them and close my eyes, trying to remain rational.
This doesn’t mean anything, I try to convince myself. It’s a snippet of a conversation I know nothing about. I cannot jump to conclusions until I speak to Baz about what I heard.
“You knew you couldn’t trust him. What are you going to do now?”
I clamp my hands over my ears, trying to get the voice to go away. She’s not here. She can’t be.
“You need to protect yourself, Kenzie. You can’t trust him.”
“Go away,” I hiss, slamming my eyes shut. When I open them, my chin trembles when I see her standing at the foot of the bed. I shake my head. “No. No, we’re not doing this.”
“You know what you have to do.”
And I do. I can’t let my feelings for Baz overshadow everything else. My safety comes first, and it is clear the Savages won’t stop until I’m dead.
I’ve been on edge since the night I heard Baz talking on the phone with Trent. He’s been acting shady, too, which only makes me more suspicious. That thin blade of corruption? We are both walking it.