Chapter Fourteen

Snow

I rest my arm on the table, watching her like a hawk. Anger grows in her eyes as she sits across from me. The smell of her apple scent lingers in the air, making my dick hard.

God, I want to punish her all over again for disobeying me. I want to fuck her. After I fucked her in the ass, we showered, and I fucked her against the shower wall.

She avoids eye contact with me, but I keep my eyes glued to hers. Our maid sets her food down. It's one of her favorites, ribeye covered in sauteed mushroom with a side of sweet potatoes. She picks up her napkin, places it on her lap, and begins to cut her steak. A few strands of her hair fall across her forehead.

As she stuffs her face, she glances around the dining room in awe.

"You built everything to the T the way I wanted it."

I started this project a year ago, and it only finished a few months ago.

I pick up the neck of my beer, place my mouth to the rim, and gulp down the foaming liquid, choosing not to respond.

"I never told you my dream about owning a farmhouse."

"Bailey showed me a sketch of your dream home that you gave her."

She nods, continuing to dig into her meal.

"I noticed my razor blades are gone. Did you forget to pack them?"

I noticed every little thing about Lyrical, and I paid attention to the faint scars that are on her arms and inner thighs that she uses makeup to cover up.

"You're going to stop cutting yourself, so I threw them out. When did you start cutting yourself again?"

She pokes at her sweet potato and the maid pours her a glass of wine. "After Bailey's death. You have no right to throw them away."

"You're not allowed to do it again. If you do it, then I'll do it." I take a swig of my beer.

She finally looks at me, her eyes flickering with surprise. "If I jump off a bridge, would you jump off one to?"

I might be pissed off at her, but I don't want her to harm herself in any way.

"If it means keeping you safe and protecting you."

"Why would you help me?"

"Because it's my job as your future husband to take care of you."

She grunts as she polishes her meal, then uses a napkin to wipe her mouth.

"Why do you have Bailey's sketch journals?"

I went through her book bag right before I came in the dining room, and I saw on the GPS app she was at my parents' house earlier.

"She had a boyfriend. I don't know if she told you."

No, she didn't tell me because she knows how Dad and I would respond. She wasn't allowed to have boyfriends because she was engaged to Tim. If she was caught dating another man, she would ruin our family image. Last year, she and Tim had their engagement ball.

"I never met him, but I think he was the one who drugged us."

"You weren't at the par—"

"We went to another party before we went to yours. It was a football party at a frat house."

"Why the fuck were you two at a football party?"

"Bailey wanted to get out of the house. She was depressed about something."

What was she depressed about?

I glance into her eyes, and I don't think she's lying. She really believes she was drugged.

"You think he drugged you two, but why would he drug you?"

"So he can make it look like the car accident was my fault. I want to show you something." I get up from the stool and follow her, watching her ass sway in her pants. It makes me want to fuck it all over again. My dick hardens at the thought.

Once we walk into the bedroom, she goes to the walk-in closet and grabs a book from her book bag. She flips through it and shows me sketches of a man with his face blurred out. I realize it's drawings of Bailey's day-to-day events in her life. The pictures get more disturbing as she flips the pages. I stare at the sketch of a man slapping her, tying her up in some sort of basement.

Rage flows through me like a volcano.

"Bailey has schizophrenia. She hallucinated and saw things that weren't there."

She crinkles her nose and sets the book on the nightstand. "Yes, I know. But I can tell when she was hallucinating, plus she was taking her medication religiously. She would blow off friend dates with me to hang out with him."

What if I was wrong about Lyrical taking the pills? What if this whole time I was taking my anger out on the wrong person? I don't think I could forgive myself for the way I treated Lyrical. I stroke the back of my neck.

"You've lied before. About not popping a Molly back around your freshmen year, and I had to bail you out and pay off the cops so they wouldn't charge you."

Frustration colors her face and her shoulders sag. "I know. And I understand what you're saying, but I'm serious about Bailey. She wasn't imagining it. Like I said, he was real. She felt like I was the only one who got her, you know. She felt like you and your parents judged her."

"We loved her, and I still love my baby sister."

She strokes my back. "I know, Snow. I know," she says. "This picture fell out of her journal."

She hands it to me, and I study the tattoo of a snake with a X on it. Whoever this is. The motherfucker is going to die a slow death.

"Flip it over," Lyrical says.

I do what she says. Me and my forever person. The love of my life. Him and Bailey for life.

I don't see how a car accident is linked to her dating someone, but I don't think Lyrical would make up this story either. Her story sounds far-fetched. She mentioned she was pulled over by a cop but when I had Jameson hack into the traffic light cameras, I didn't see anything.

"She told me her boyfriend was stalking her. I believed her, and I'm going to figure out who he is."

I fold my arms and lean against the wall. "If you believe what happened was true, I'll help you find him, and when I catch him, I'm going to chop his body up into pieces and toss him into the ocean."

She searches my eyes for something I can't figure out. She stands on her tippy-toes and rubs my cheek. "Have you killed someone before?"

I never wanted to reveal to Lyrical that side of me, because I was afraid she would look at me in disgust. Now, she's stuck with me forever, so she has no choice to but accept me.

"Yes." This is too intimate for me, so I remove her hand from my face. "I took care of the guy who tried to drug you at the party."

Her eyebrows climb to the top of her forehead. "What guy? What party?"

"The one you were talking to at the party the night of the accident. I beat him to death with a bat."

Her cheeks turn pale pink, and she bites her bottom lip.

I want her to say something, anything. Not just stare at me.

She finally breaks her silence and asks, "When did you start killing?"

"When I was fifteen. My father took me to the basement of the club and told me I had to prove to him I have what it takes to run it. I killed a sex predator. He raped a seven-year-old. He was a member of the club, and we don't tolerate anyone fucking kids."

Her face pales. "My father never talked about what he did at the club."

"Because we aren't allowed to. We take care of matters ourselves; we don't get the cops involved unless we have to. But then there are politicians and high-status people that are members of the Billionaire Club. Whoever joins is protected." I run my hands through my hair. "You have no choice but to accept me for what I do. If you don't, then tough tits, you aren't going anywhere. You try to leave me, I'll keep you locked up in this house."

"I already suspected you did, but I don't care. I accept you for who you are, Snow. I always have. I feel honored you would kill anyone who wishes to harm me."

Her words do something to me, but I quickly shake the feeling away. I didn't expect that response from her.

"How does it feel to take someone's life?" she asks, sitting on the bed I fucked her in only an hour ago. She winces, and I'm assuming her pussy and ass are sore. She needs a reminder that I was there.

"Power. It gives me power. Makes me feel like I'm a god," I answer honestly.

She smiles. "I want Bailey's boyfriend's head on a silver platter."

I nod my head. "Gladly."

Memories of her in my bedroom slam into my skull and I miss her—us. I miss being so close to Lyrical. Having her near me without any animosity. I miss her laugh, her smile. I miss the happy Lyrical, the one who brightens the room. The accident destroyed both of our lives. Speaking of which, I remember her wanting to meet me after the party to ask me something that night.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about on the night of the accident?"

She glances down at the marble floor and shakes her head, rubbing her nose. "Nothing important. I wanted to ask you what you wanted to eat that night." She rubs her nose when she's lying.

I'm going to find out what she really wanted to say to me.