51. Ciaran

51

CIARAN

W e were already inside Drew's modern loft apartment and standing in the living room before I'd truly come to my senses.

Matty and I were giving him plenty of space since Drew was carrying the heavy fertility statue like it was a personal shield. We wouldn't touch him as long as it was in his arms.

Drew's home was as I remembered. It even smelled the same, like wild mint and sage, with a hint of his normal cologne, which was a masculine scent of ambergris and a spicy saffron. It brought back many memories.

He was meticulous in his decorations and he had an amazing view of the Vegas Strip and the surrounding mountain range due to the unit's large windows and balcony.

"Well," Drew was saying, "you two are on an adventurous streak these days." He looked at me like I was a snack. "I was going to ask if you were acclimating well at the Vaulteneau Estate, but you're already looking like a million bucks, Ciaran." He'd indicated my new wardrobe. "Certainly much better than your usual attire of athletic shorts, though," he said with a knowing wink as he walked deeper into his apartment, "athletic shorts are much easier to remove, right?"

Drew's eyes flickered to Matty before returning to me.

My face felt hot but I ignored his barb. I knew it would be the only way I'd survive the situation with my pride and dignity still intact.

"Fuck off, Andy," Matty said. Thankfully, Matty wasn't cowed by the older man. "You know why we're here."

Drew's home was on the smaller side but expensively furnished with a pair of dove-gray couches and rich gray walls filled with black and white photos of the various places he'd visited, like Paris, Rome, and Sydney. The coffee table between the couches contained an open bottle of red wine and three empty glasses.

It was clear that Drew was confident Matty and I would show up together, but what made him think we'd sit down and share a glass of wine with him?

"But why hurry things along? You just got here," Drew answered casually, as if he had the upper hand, and maybe he did. He gestured around his apartment. It was no less impressive than the first time I'd come here. Drew's bookcase along a side wall had back lighting and I remember being dazzled the first time I saw his collection of old books. It was how he got me to come to his apartment in the first place. "You've been on the road for hours ," Drew said, his eyes locked on me. "Hungry? Thirsty? Interested in perusing my new book acquisitions? Mi casa es su casa."

"Andy," Matty hissed in warning.

"Matty." I placed a hand on his shoulder. The muscles beneath my fingers were tight and vibrating with pent-up anger. Matty seemed seconds away from jumping on Drew like a mountain lion, so I'd taken on a calmer persona ever since entering the apartment. "He's just trying to rile us."

Dangling old books was an easy way to lure someone like me. Drew once offered to give me one, but I protested. He only laughed at me, saying he could easily replace it with another older, rarer book.

Turned out he wasn't lying. Drew was wealthy enough to buy whatever—or whoever—he wanted.

My shame and guilt returned. Was I that easily bought? That gullible?

Apparently I was.

"I'll rip off his fucking head," Matty said.

"Maybe Matty needs a nap." Drew's lips were tight as he pointed upward, though his attention was laser focused on how my hand was touching Matty's shoulder.

The dark wood staircase behind us led to a loft that contained a queen bed, two nightstands, and a wall-mounted flat screen television. Beneath the loft space led to the kitchen, an office, a laundry room, and the bathroom.

Drew was still observing me. The self-satisfying grin that spread across his face when I averted my eyes made me feel nauseous. He was trying to make me remember that one night, the night he took my hand and led me up the staircase. The night that I let him take my clothes off. That I let him put his mouth on me.

I hated myself as I thought about that night, but there was one big difference from that night to today: I was a stronger person today than I was then.

Matty turned to me, his expression one of eagerness. "Can I throw him off the balcony?"

All at once I understood Drew better than I ever had before. Yes, he was a manipulator, and I deep down I think I always knew that. But in this moment, with Matty beside me, I understood how Drew was attempting manipulate the both of us.

He was trying to control my emotions—and me—by reminding me of an event that shamed me. He counted on Matty not knowing the truth and my wanting to prevent anyone from finding out.

This was Drew's way of controlling me and not challenging him. He wanted to make me feel small and guilty for the actions that he was clearly responsible for.

With Matty, it was more physical . Drew held the artifact that Matty needed to save his skin. Joan and Filipe's lives were also on the line.

"No one is being thrown off a balcony," I told Matty. Though I understood Matty's desire. To Drew, I said, "Stop acting like this is a social visit or that we want to see you. Matty knows the truth about us." That seemed to take some of the wind out of Drew's sails. "You know why we're here. Matty needs the statue, and I want answers about your actions. However, you purposefully orchestrated it so Matty and I would come here together. The thing is…" I paused and walked to the wall of windows that faced the Strip, my mind running on all cylinders. "Our problems are not connected, so I'm guessing there's another reason you wanted us to come together?"

Matty's gaze swiveled to me in surprise. "That's a good point." He shoved a hand through his dark hair before scrubbing the stubble at his jaw. "What the fuck are you up to, Andy?"

Drew bared his teeth at Matty before dipping his head at me in acknowledgement. "Very good, Ciaran. You've always been a bright boy."

In a past life, that compliment would have done strange things to my belly. Past-Ciaran would have wanted more compliments to keep that high going.

When I didn't respond like I'd done in the past, Drew added with a sneer, "I told Theresa that being connected to the Vaulteneaus would open doors for you." His attention slid to Matty. "Though I didn't anticipate you'd be stupid enough to let yourself get caught up in Matty's shenanigans."

"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked.

Drew carefully repositioned the statue in his arms. I wondered how long he could maintain his hold on it. When I'd picked up the replica, it had to have been a solid fifty pounds. Drew was physically fit and strong, but to continuously carry a heavy statue would get cumbersome.

"I just thought you'd be smarter than letting Matty influence you, Ciaran."

"Swear to God, if you weren't holding that statue, Andy," Matty said with meaning.

"I'm a good judge of character," I protested, looking between Drew and Matty, who were facing off like boxers.

I felt like the referee responsible for ensuring they didn't kill each other.

"You mistake my meaning, Ciaran," Drew said in his teacher-voice. "It's not your fault that you've let Matty sweep you off your feet. He's a master at getting what he wants. He's good-looking, exciting, and rich. I don't blame you at all."

Matty snorted. "We didn't come here to listen to a lecture on manipulation. Ciaran is fully aware of the fact that I'm a complete dickhead. Hell, the fucking world knows it."

I didn't feel like I needed to defend our relationship, but it was important to me that Drew knew Matty and I were a team. That he wasn't going to separate us with words or accusations.

"I take ownership for my actions, Drew," I said. " And I'm coming to terms with the ramifications for the actions that weren't my fault." I let my meaning hang in the air. "You're a piece of shit, Drew."

Something in my chest let loose in saying those words to my abuser's face. It wouldn't magically fix things, but it could be a start at forgiving myself for trusting Drew.

Drew's smile slipped. "You've change, Ciaran. Sadly, I can't say the same about Matty."

"Come off it, Andy. The difference between you and me is that I want to be a better person after knowing Ciaran. Can you say the same?"

"Actually, yes," Drew said in a tone of honesty. Truth flickered in his green eyes as he took me in and I sensed he was about to impart a deeper story. "What you don't know is that I told Stefon about Theresa two years ago after I'd become Ciaran's mentor."

That didn't make any sense. I scrunched my eyebrows. "Mom says they'd only just met recently."

"She told you the truth," Drew said as he sat down on one of the couches, the statue resting in his lap. Leaning over, he poured himself a glass of wine. "Join me, won't you?" He gestured toward the other couch across from him. "It's story time."