15

15

STACEY

My body is on fire.

Kade’s lingering touches are like ghosts on my skin.

I have no idea what happened. One minute, I was on all fours and ready – waiting for Kade to fuck me from behind. My heart was beating so fast, a spark in my chest that we were so close again. And next he’s white as a ghost and rushing into the bathroom with his usual crappy comments.

You never change, do you?

Apparently not. Not when it comes to him. How can we be apart for two years and fall back into this? Before, we were learning about each other’s bodies and ways to make the other feel good.

We would explore and live and love, and then we’d lie in each other’s arms after. There was no rudeness or him degrading me in hurtful ways.

Embarrassment burns through me. From him noticing the bruises and scars Chris has littered me with to letting him – someone who claims to despise me – make me orgasm… multiple times.

He hates me. That much I’m aware of. But he’s also confusing me. We went from close to fucking to him telling me we’re travelling on a private jet.

And why was there a security guard outside my room? Kade excused him when he came to the room and grabbed my bags, not answering any of my questions about how it’s possible we’re getting on a private jet.

I’d shoved on my closest outfit – a black summer dress that sits mid-thigh. He’d raised his brow when he saw what I was wearing – it’ll be perfect for America, but it’s the middle of the Scottish winter here.

Now we’re driving in silence, and I keep fisting my dress from the thick tension still between us.

I continue glancing at Kade while he drives us to a twenty-four-hour McDonald’s before the flight, waiting to see if he’ll break the silence. But he’s on his third smoke and blasting music, so I highly doubt he will.

“The Death of Peace of Mind” by Bad Omens is playing loud enough to hurt my ears, and when I try to turn it down, he grabs my wrist without looking at me. “Don’t touch my fucking radio.”

I yank my arm away from his electrifying touch, huffing and slouching in the seat. “I prefer the old Kade. This new one is a buzzkill and a moody prick. You don’t need to keep treating me like shit.”

No reply. Not even an insult.

When we reach McDonald’s, he doesn’t ask what I want – he orders us both Big Macs and a side of mozzarella dippers.

“What if I wanted something else?”

Kade pulls out of the drive-through lane and parks up. “You don’t like anything else.”

I blink. “For someone who can’t stand me, you seem to remember a lot about me.”

A smirk. Curbing it, he unclips his seat belt and readjusts himself with parted legs. “Unfortunately.”

We eat in silence. The radio still plays, though he’s at least turned it down now, and his phone keeps buzzing with messages. He denies a call then tosses the phone into the divider.

“That might’ve been important.”

“Just eat your food, Freckles.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He glares at me until I look away with heated cheeks.

After another few minutes of quiet, he takes all the rubbish and puts it in the bin he parked beside. The radio switches to the news; the gruesome murder is the lead story, and the reporter explains that someone’s been detained but another suspect is still at large.

“Head of Police Scotland Bernadette Sawyer is here with us. She’s been personally working on this case for the past few hours. Is there anything you’d like to say to the public, ma’am?”

Kade holds his breath and slows down.

“Certainly. I’d like to reassure the public that we have the best of the best on the search and strongly urge anyone who has any information to come forward. We believe there were two attackers, and we have detained one. Holyrood Park will stay closed until further notice.”

“Is there anything you can say about the innocent life that was taken?”

“Is it not weird to ask that on—”

“Shh.”

I roll my eyes and cross my arms as Kade turns the volume up.

“The body has been identified as Matthew Barnwell, a thirty-year-old man who was on his way home from work. The family has been informed, and love has poured in from social media for this respected member of the community, with hundreds of people expressing their condolences.”

Kade tuts. “Respected.” He shakes his head. “Fucking ridiculous.”

“Did you know him?” I ask, puzzled. “The man that was killed?”

“Of course not.”

I narrow my eyes, brows furrowed with confusion. “Then what’s ridiculous?”

“She doesn’t know him. How can she say he was respected? She’s full of shit.”

“Well, at least she sounds hot,” I say. “A singsong voice.”

Nothing. Not a word. His eye twitches as he slams his foot down on the accelerator. He pulls onto a long stretch of road towards the airport, with no streetlights in a tunnel of trees.

Another Bad Omens song plays, and I tap my foot to the song.

I ask what time we take off – no response.

I ask why he’s being an idiot – no response.

I ask if he wants to talk about what happened earlier, and, of course, there’s no response. Slapping him would be acceptable, right?

“Come on, Kade. Are you going to give me the silent treatment the entire trip?”

“I don’t plan on seeing you this entiretrip,” he replies, monotone. “As soon as we land, this nightmare is over.”

I grit my teeth, annoyance and fury in my veins.

Kade has every right to be mad at me, but he still walked away. He still claims to despise me.

Yet right now I’m wearing his jacket because I was cold. If Kade truly, truly loathes the ground I walk on, why is he even taking me on this jet with him? Why did he back me against the wall in the studio? Follow me out of the manor to see who I was out talking to at the gate? Why pleasure me?

Why did he try to kiss me?

I gather enough courage to speak and turn to him. “I didn’t know what I was doing,” I say, filling the silence and attempting to calm my nerves.

I twist my fingers together. I’ve imagined this conversation a million ways, and it’s always easier to speak out in my head. Why is it so hard to admit what happened?

Kade driving faster and ignoring me isn’t helping.

“That night, I was—” Raped.

I stop, a lump sticking in my throat. I fail to say it aloud.

“It wasn’t…” What you think. “I didn’t…” Want to do it. But all I can finish with is, “I’m… I’m sorry.”

I look out the window to hide the tears building behind my eyes as I try and fail to use my voice. If I tell him what happened and how many times, he’ll think I’m dirtier than he already does. Used. Worthless. Or he’ll say I’m a liar. He might not believe me, and then I’d be called an attention-seeker, a manipulator – toxic.

I want so badly to tell him the truth, but it won’t come out.

Still no reply.

“Sorry,” I say again.

Kade scoffs. “Don’t waste your breath. I really don’t give a shit.”

I shake my head. “You obviously do, or you’d stop having such a terrible attitude with me.”

I turn to face him again and let a tear slip down my cheek, my lip trembling. “I loved you. I wanted everything with you. Why would I ruin that? I would never intentionally—”

My body jerks forward as Kade slams on the brakes, the tyres screeching on the road until the car comes to a stop. Hair over my face, hands on the dashboard, I watch him with wide eyes as he heaves in breaths and grabs his lighter.

He shoves the door open and climbs out.

“Where are you—”

My voice is cut off by him slamming the door shut. I turn to look behind the car and see him running both hands through his hair.

I open the car door. “Do you know what? Fuck you, Kade!”

I walk towards him, his sleepy, fuming eyes on me as he puffs on a joint, and stop in front of him. “You left me. I needed you, and you left without even trying to fight for me!”

“Why would I fight for you?” he sneers. “I saw what happened in that video, and that was enough to show me your true colours. What’s done is done, right? Get back in the fucking car and get out of my sight.”

I snatch his joint and throw it away. “I didn’t know what I was doing! I wanted you—”

“Stacey, I swear to fucking God. Shut the fuck up.”

He moves closer. “You don’t deserve time to explain why you did what you did, and I really don’t care. I dodged a bullet getting away from you.”

My teeth clench, fresh tears spilling. “I wanted to go home to you. I cried for you.”

“You cried for me? When? While you were on top of him?”

Kade takes a step towards me. There’re inches between us, and I don’t flinch as he takes hold of my jaw. It’s not firm or painful but enough to show he could dominate me in a second. Despite his words, I can see the hurt in his eyes.

“I saw the proof of you with him.” He releases my jaw and shoulders past me. “They’re waiting for us at the jet. Move or I’ll leave you here.”

Defeated, I stand there and consider my options. I can either grab my bags and call an Uber to take me to the main terminal for our original flight, or I can go with Kade to this ridiculous and expensive jet and stay silent the entire trip.

Because fuck him. Losing your voice to everyone is one thing, but losing your voice to someone you loved – trusted – is ten million times worse.

I’ve never been heard. My dad didn’t even listen when I told him about Chris abusing me.

Staying silent is like being in a mental prison.

A chill blows up my dress, and I decide to walk back to the passenger seat and slide the door closed.

“I hate you,” I immaturely say. “You’ll never touch me again.”

“Noted.” He speeds down the road, his elbow resting on the side of the car door.

He scans a badge at a fence, which then slides. He drives straight into the hangar to a small silver jet with a sharp nose.

I’ve never seen one before. Sure, Nora is rich, but we always fly commercial whenever we leave the country.

A man in a suit stands at the bottom of the pulled-down steps.

Kade nods to him when we walk towards the jet. “Barry.”

“Sir,” he replies. “We’ll get your bags.” His eyes land on me. “Miss Rhodes.”

I tilt my head. “Hello.”

“He’s my assistant,” Kade informs me as he leads me to the steps.

“How can you afford this?” I ask in awe, my eyes like saucers.

Kade’s only response – to my surprise – is to wrap his fingers around my wrist as I stumble at the top of the steps after seeing the cream leather and oak interior.

“No, really, how can you afford this?”

I’m staring at the minibar full of wine and champagne and other expensive things. It’s like a mini home in a plane with the sofa and the eight chairs with tables between them. I know his family has a lot of money, but not this much.

So what the hell does he do to be able to afford this?

I’m so damn confused.

Kade nudges me forward when my feet refuse to move.

The door closes and the young man with the English accent – Barry, Kade’s assistant – talks him through the flight plan and a meeting he has scheduled while he’s in America. He confirms that Kade’s dogs are currently out in the manor grounds with the staff, and that they’ll attend their advanced training lesson later in the day.

I raise a brow when Kade pulls his laptop out.

I take the seat across from him, still unable to find any words beyond fuck and Jesus. I’ve forgotten I was just yelling at him as I admire our surroundings.

“Don’t tell Luciella about this,” Kade says.

Barry pours us each a drink and informs us we’ll take off in five minutes.

“She’ll tell my mum and I can’t be fucked with her interrogating me with annoying questions.”

I tilt my head. “Are you going to answer any of mine?”

He takes a gulp then sets his glass back down on the small table between us, his eyes going back to his laptop screen. “No.”

“You’re not some crazy paid hitman, are you?” I ask with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Oh wait, you’re paid for sex.” Then I pause, thinking. “Drug dealer?”

He glares at me. “Your voice is giving me a headache.”

I roll my eyes and look out the window as the jet pulls out of the hangar. An uneasy feeling reaches deep inside my chest when I think of all the ways Chris will make me pay for hanging up on him, or for going on this trip in the first place.

I allowed Kade to hang up on my psychotic stepbrother so I could dry-hump him. Which resulted in me sitting on his face. Then being bent over and so close to being fucked.

And now he’s sitting across from me in a fancy jet, has an assistant, is strangely rich, and all I can think of is finishing off what we started back in the hotel. I hate him. Loathe. I think I could slap him and not feel bad about it for ten full minutes.

I can still be attracted to him though. Especially when he runs the tip of his thumb across his mouth as he looks at something unsettling on his laptop. He shifts, his legs wide open, and accidentally bumps his knee into mine.

He glances up at me, catching me staring, and I avert my gaze to my hands, which are fidgeting in my lap.

This is going to be a long flight.