The magnitude of that simple statement stole his ability to breathe. Because it meant she trusted him enough to let him see her vulnerable. To Rachel, he was an insider. Possibly the only one she had.
What a helluva time to discover she’d let him get that close.
With a curse, he rubbed a hand down his face and gave her what she wanted. What she needed. “Okay, we’ll do it your way. But we’ll plug the drive into your TV first, that way it can’t corrupt your computer. If there are photos on there, we’ll be able to see them on the screen anyway, and if there are documents, we’ll know if the files are malicious based on how the TV reacts. If it infects your TV, then I think it’s safe to say, we shouldn’t plug it into a computer without Elle being here to fix anything that goes wrong.” It was the best he could do. The smallest measure of protection. That, and the fact he would be at her side.
“That sounds reasonable.” Rachel turned toward the living room.
Harvard used a tissue to pick up the thumb drive before following her. “I’m not sure this is the wisest decision,” he said as she picked up the remote and aimed it at the painting over the fireplace.
“Duly noted,” she said, as the painting slid up into the ceiling to reveal a large screen TV.
Harvard went straight to the TV and positioned the USB at the port. “You sure?”
“Yes. Now hurry up, or the others will get here before I’ve had a chance to see what’s on it.”
There was nothing else he could do to stall or talk some sense into her, so he pushed the drive into the port. For a second, nothing happened, and then a message appeared on the screen. White text on a plain black background.
Resign Tomorrow.
He glanced at Rachel, who looked about as bewildered as he felt.
“They could have written that on a Post-it Note,” she said.
“Here, gimme the remote.” Harvard crossed the room to her, his back to the TV, and his gaze on her face.
And he saw the instant everything changed.
The color drained from Rachel’s face as she whispered, “No.” She swayed as if about to topple, her eyes widening with shock. And then the sound kicked in, and a voice moaned, “No, please, no.”
He spun to see a much younger Rachel on the screen. Two men stood over her, neither of their faces in shot. As a low groan sounded behind him, he spun back to his Rachel, who stood frozen in place, staring in horror at the TV while clutching the damn remote to her stomach.
“Turn it off,” he ordered, reaching for her.
But she didn’t hear him. For her, nothing else existed in that moment other than what was unfolding on the screen.
“Give me the remote.” He tried to pry it from her hands without hurting her. “Come on, Rachel, we need to switch it off.”
“This is what you want?” One of the men on the screen said to the person off camera. “The necklace?” He shrugged before removing the heirloom locket Rachel always wore. And then he wrapped it around his dick before—
With an agonized wail, Rachel crumpled to the floor, the remote tumbling from her hands. Harvard lunged for it and switched off the damn TV. Rachel wasn’t looking at it anyway. She stared at nothing as she clawed at her throat, tears pouring down her cheeks.
“Get it off me.” She scratched at her throat, trying to dig the necklace out from where it had become tucked inside her dress. “Get it off me. Get it off me. Getitoffme!”
Blood trailed down her throat as she scratched at the chain. Harvard fell to his knees beside her and grabbed her wrists to stop her. One of her hands slipped free, catching the chain at last and ripping the necklace from her throat. Sending it hurtling across the room as a long, keening wail escaped her.
“Look at me, Rachel. Look at me.” He stroked her hair, trying to calm her. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“It won’t come off. I can’t get it off.” Her hands reached for her throat, her black eyes pleading. “Help me. Please help me.”
Harvard caught her wrists before she could hurt herself again. “Rachel, damn it, listen to me. The necklace is gone. It’s gone. You got it.”
“No, no, no, no.” She snatched her hands away, covering her mouth as her eyes went wide.
And then she doubled over, palms to the floor, sobbing and retching until her stomach was empty.
“Fuck, baby, please. You’re killing me. Let me help. I need to help.”
He rubbed her back and held her hair, feeling more helpless than he’d ever felt in his life.
At last, she stopped vomiting. As her head fell forward, Harvard gently tugged her away from the mess on the floor. “It was on me,” she said hoarsely. “This whole time. On my skin.” She gagged again. “They used it to—” She jerked away from him and fell to her hands and knees, retching. But there was nothing left to bring up.
Harvard pulled her back against him and held her carefully. Knowing she was precious. Hoping she’d feel that knowledge in his touch. “It’s gone, Rachel, I promise. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“I can still feel it on my skin, where it always sat. It’s dirty. I’m dirty. Never, ever going to get clean. Never.”
Cradling her to him, he got to his feet. “We’ll make it clean. It’s going to be okay.” And then he strode down the stairs to the master bathroom.
“It’s still on my skin,” she whispered. “I wore it every day. Touched it all the time. And it was tainted.” Her gaze met his, her dark eyes pooled with tears. “Like me.”
“Never,” he said vehemently. If only one thing got through to her, he wanted it to be this. “You hear me. There’s nothing tainted about you. Nothing.”
“I can still feel the chain on my skin, the weight of the locket around my neck,” she whispered, her hand drifting to her already torn throat. “It’s like a noose.”
Harvard settled her on the low stool in front of the bathroom vanity and started the shower before quickly shedding his clothes. With care, he undressed Rachel too. All the while, she sobbed silently, rocking back and forth, lost in herself.
He lifted her against him and stepped into the shower with her in his arms. The hot water beating down on them, Rachel lay limply against his chest.
“Can you stand?” he asked softly.
There was no answer, just those agonizing sobs. After carefully placing Rachel on her feet, he held her up with one arm while reaching for the shower gel and washcloth with the other.
“I’m going to make it all go away, Rachel. You hear me? We’ll get rid of what’s left of that necklace. It won’t be there anymore. I promise I’ll take care of it. Just hold on to me, let me do this for you. I’ve got you.”
He lathered the cloth and tenderly wiped her throat, aware that the soap would make the raw scratches sting. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “We’ll get some cream on those soon.”
“I wore it with everything.” Her agony-filled eyes met his. “It touched all of my clothes.”
He carefully ran the cloth over her breasts and stomach. “We’ll get you new clothes.”
“It was a family tradition.” Her voice was an agonized breath. “I was supposed to put my future in that locket. When I met the man I planned to marry, when I had children, they were supposed to go inside.” Silent tears fell from eyes that held such depths of pain. “They took my future.”