Chapter 32 - Victoria

Victoria

T hree weeks, five days, twelve hours, forty minutes, and ten seconds.

Not that I’m keeping track of how long it’s been since I read my sister’s final journal entry. Or how long it’s been since I’ve seen Xavier. Or how long it’s been since I’ve felt even remotely human.

I’d love to say I received closure for the years of torture I’d inflicted on myself over Charlotte’s death. I’d love to say I was finally at peace and could let go of all the guilt. And yes, I yearned to say I was blissfully happy and together with the man I love.

But no.

None of that was my current reality.

I can’t even say I had a fantastic time at the Met Gala. Killian and Max were so excited. They walked the red carpet and up the long flight of stairs like they were rock stars. There aren’t enough words to describe how handsome they looked in their all black tuxes.

Of course they fawned over me and told me I was the prettiest girl in the world. Best friends like Killian and Max are precious. As much as I’d tried to hide what I was feeling, they knew. But I haven’t told them what Charlotte wrote. I can’t break Killian’s heart. I just can’t.

I fidgeted with the ring hanging from my necklace. Xavier’s ring. The one he’d always wear on his thumb. Silver with an infinity design etched into the band.

“I love you,” he told me when he gave it to me. “Wear this every day. Touch it anytime you doubt how I feel about you.”

Those were the last words he said to me before meeting Bennet at the airport. I haven’t heard from him since and at this point, I probably never will. He’d been so enraged after reading about the bonfire and what Jordan did to Charlotte. Even through all the anger and vitriol he spewed about him, Xavier still tried to comfort me and make sure I was okay.

But then he dropped a bomb on me.

“He’s dangerous,” Xavier told me, holding my hands. “He knows who you are. He knows you’re with me. I never should have posted your photo the other night. It was impulsive and stupid.”

“Don’t be silly,” I told him. “You didn’t know all of this. And who cares anyway.”

“I do. He’ll come after you. He likes to take things that don’t belong to him.”

Things? I remembered looking at Xavier and wincing. “I’m not property.”

“To him, you are. And I can’t have you directly in his line of sight.”

“What are you saying?”

I vividly recalled the way he looked at me with such devotion and love and sadness. “Protecting you is my number one priority. I can’t protect you if I’m the reason he’ll come for you. We can’t be together right now, love. Not until I fix this.”

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“No, Tori. I’m shielding you.”

I fisted his ring in my hand, almost pulling it off the chain. How dare he sacrifice our relationship. How dare he make decisions that affect both of our lives. The same anger I felt after reading Charlotte’s words bubbled up for Xavier.

The two people I loved the most.

Both made sacrifices in order to protect me. Neither one asked if I wanted or needed their protection.

Charlotte lost her life as a result.

I couldn’t bear to think what Xavier could lose.

A soft whining broke through my unpleasant thought process. I looked down at the scared puppy sitting in my lap. His questioning eyes stared at my fisted hand.

I let the ring fall gently against my clavicle and slowly pet the dog. He crawled up to nestle into my chest and licked my chin.

“Is this better?” I smiled, holding him.

I’d taken the day off from work to spend time at the Paws for Help Sanctuary. It’s been way too long since I’ve donated my time to help socialize the puppies. And being here helped me feel closer to my sister. Or at least the version of her I thought I knew.

She loved this shelter.

It’s small and run by a husband and wife team whose only goal is to provide comfort and loving homes for abandoned dogs. Many of the animals here were either dumped in parking lots or left to fend for themselves on the street. A few came from hoarded homes in other states, but this facility wasn’t equipped to handle too many serious cases. That’s one of the many reasons why I donated every year and appreciated whatever Noah chose to contribute from his fundraiser.

The socializing room was quiet and comfortable, unlike the kennel area. Don’t get me wrong. These animals were treated like royalty. They each had their own private enclosure with beds, blankets, toys, water, and food. But there’s only so much one can do with scared, barking dogs living in an echo chamber.

A puppy like the one I’m sitting with doesn’t go in the main area. He stays in a private room with other new arrivals, in his own kennel, until he’s either adopted or old enough to go with the other dogs. As much as Charlotte loved helping the animals, she’d always tell me how sad it made her to see them locked in cages, waiting for someone to rescue them.

I ended up spending a couple hours with the puppies before making my way back to the city. For some reason, I chose to drive by my childhood home. The last time I came here was the day I turned the keys over to the realtor to sell it. It was my junior year at Dartmouth. My mother moved to South Carolina the summer after my freshman year, and my dad had been in Greece since I graduated from high school.

As with everything else Chase family related, I cleaned up the mess left behind.

I pulled up to the curb and stopped, staring at the gray colonial house. Too many memories flooded back too fast.

“This was a terrible idea,” I muttered, putting the car in drive.

A few hours later I sipped on a happy hour cocktail with Hannah.

Spring totally flew the coop and dropped summer on all of us. Not that I’m complaining. But it would be nice to sit outside on this terrace and not feel like my legs were melting into the chair. Even the air was thick with the summer sounds of conversations and traffic and music.

“You doing okay over there?” Hannah asked.

“Great,” I answered a little too cheerfully before swallowing my overly sweet excuse for a drink. “Does this place serve anything that doesn’t require a gallon of syrup?”

Hannah’s gentle laugh complimented her pretty smile. “We’ll get you something more robust.”

Her phone chimed and I knew without question it was Bennet. He texted her like clockwork. It was close to eleven in London, the night before a huge game. I knew that, too, because I watched every televised Royal City match I could find.

Pining much? You know it, buddy.

“Bennet says hello,” Hannah said quietly, watching me fiddle with the ring on my necklace. “Still nothing from Xavier?”

“Who?” I finished my drink.

“That’s the shitty sweet drink talking,” she scolded.

“Yeah, well, maybe you could put in a good word with your Dom to have my so-called boyfriend send me a sign that he’s still alive or something.”

My nails drummed on the empty glass. Hannah grabbed it from me and put it out of reach.

“What’s around your neck?” she asked, eyebrow arched.

“I’m not in the mood, Hannah,” I snapped.

“Tough shit. That,” she pointed, “is a sign he loves you. A visible, tangible sign that you fidget with all day.”

She’s right. I mean, I’m touching it right now. I touch it all the time because it’s the only piece of him I have.

“I hate this,” I growled. “Do you know how hard it is to keep my promise? To not call that asshole and rip him a new one for what he did to my sister? To not get on a plane and show up at his house and scratch his eyes out?”

“I know it’s hard,” Hannah soothed. “Bennet and Xavier are doing what they think is right. It sucks but it’s the only option you have.”

“It’s a shitty option,” I shouted, drawing a few curious stares in my direction. “How does Xavier removing himself from my life keep Jordan away from me? How? I mean, not even a fucking text message for three weeks? How is that keeping me safe?”

“It’s hard to understand, for sure,” Hannah kept trying to calm me down. “Love makes people do irrational things sometimes.”

“Irrational,” I repeated. “This whole damn thing is irrational. I’m not getting the whole story and it’s driving me crazy. I’ve had it.”

All the anger and hurt and guilt I’ve kept simmering inside me the last few weeks came to a boil.

Red.

Furious, blinding, suffocating red.

My hands clenched into fists.

“I can’t do this anymore.” I stood up and stormed out of the bar.

I don’t even know where I wanted to go. The muted sound of Hannah calling after me did nothing to slow me down. I weaved in and out of people, pushing my way past groups of tourists who diligently waited for the walk sign to give them permission to cross the street.

Screw that.

A taxi’s horn blared its displeasure as I ran through the crosswalk. I gave the driver a spirited one-finger salute and kept going.

Speed walking has never really been my thing. It’s well-known that I prefer pacing in mindless circles. Or figure eights, depending on the situation. But this worked for me now.

Don’t mind me, fellow people of New York City. Hurricane Victoria reached category five and made landfall somewhere between West 58 th and Broadway. By the time I reached Columbus Circle I had to stop. Not because my feet screamed at me or my lungs strained to find another breath. I stopped because if I kept going, I’d end up swimming across the Hudson into New Jersey.

Okay, fine. That’s way too dramatic. But in all seriousness I can’t keep walking aimlessly around the city.

I miss him.

I miss him.

I miss him.

Emptiness spread through my chest, cracking open a cavernous hole. I missed his voice. I missed how rough it sounded when he’d tell me all the dirty things he wanted to do with me. I missed his deep, silky laugh. His wide, crooked smile. His dimple. The way his sapphire eyes glitter brighter than the night sky.

I missed how I felt when I was with him.

I missed the soft, comforting way he’d touch me when I was upset.

Frustrated, I found a random bench and sat down. My phone kept vibrating in my pocket. It was Hannah. It had to be.

All the missed text messages from her confirmed my suspicion when I checked. I know she’s worried. And I appreciate her for being a solid friend during this confusing, annoying time.

Keeping what I’d found out from her would have been impossible since her relationship with Bennet was becoming quite serious.

And apparently I’m on this crusade now to let people into my life, even the worst parts of it.

So, yeah.

Hannah knows. She actually knows more than Killian at this point.

No, it doesn’t sit well with me. But I truly cannot break his heart. Not yet.

“Nice night,” an unfamiliar voice sprinkled in a gentle southern accent sounded to my left.

I glanced over to see a guy around my age sit next to me. I bristled at the intrusion. There are at least half a dozen empty benches in this area. I rolled my eyes and ignored him.

“Ah. A native New Yorker,” he said. “I can tell by the inherent disinterest.”

“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked, trying to remember my manners and not sound irritated. “If you’re lost, there’s a hotel about a block and a half that way. The concierge is quite knowledgeable.”

He chuckled. A deep, unaffected, sound. “I know my way around Manhattan.”

Folding my arms, I turned to look at him.

Conventionally handsome. Dark hair, dark eyes, expensive watch, crisp button down, tailored pants. Not a tourist. Just another Wall Street business bro on the prowl after hours.

“When I first moved here,” he went on, not bothered by my stand-offish behavior, “women like you scared the shit out of me.”

Don’t engage, don’t engage, don’t engage .

“Women like me?” I arched an eyebrow.

He leaned back, turning toward me. “I meant no offense, ma’am. My thoughts sometimes come out faster than I can phrase them correctly.”

I wasn’t disarmed by his polite response at all.

“Verbal diarrhea is common in this city,” I noted.

His laugh was easy, unforced. “That’s a great way to put it. Mind if I steal your line?”

I sized him up one more time and turned away. I didn’t want to make friends tonight. I wanted to be left alone.

“I feel like I’ve started this conversation all wrong,” he said. “Hi. I’m Wes. Born and raised in Kansas City. The Missouri one.”

Charm oozed off him, and not in a good way. This charm felt fabricated. Like he was flipping through some flirting guidebook and trying out different lines. I could practically see him in his swanky Financial District apartment, styling his hair just right, picking out the perfect cufflinks, winking and giving his reflection a thumbs up.

To prove my point, he reached up to adjust his shirt collar so I could see exactly which cufflinks he chose to wear today and then ran his hand through his perfect hair.

“Do all men from Kansas City preen in such an obvious way?” I chided.

“Only the Missouri ones,” he replied a little too smoothly.

“Whatever.” I shook my head.

“Most women enjoy this. Have I met my first ice princess?”

Alright. Play time is over. I stood up.

“Probably not your last either. Have a good night.”

I only made it a couple feet away before I heard, “Now I know why people called you the fun twin.”

Everything froze. My legs, my blood, my lungs, time.

The fun twin.

“You’re easier to track down than I thought,” he drawled in an English accent reserved for the Ascot races and white tie affairs at Buckingham Palace.

Steeling myself, I pivoted on my heel to face him again. He remained seated on the bench, gazing up at me like a fucking asshole prince.

“Jordan.” I choked out his name through clenched teeth.

His too-wide mouth curled in a smirk. “Victoria.”

All my bad ass talk about ripping him a new one and scratching his eyes out remained just that. Talk.

I studied him. Really memorizing his features, his body, his size. I imagine he would have been seventeen or eighteen the summer we went to the bonfire. I wondered if he was this big then.

Broad shoulders, big hands, muscular build. Rotten images of his hands around my sister’s neck when he pushed her into the wall consumed me, rendering me breathless.

“You’re a beautiful woman,” he growled.

“Fuck you,” I spat.

He tsked, leaning forward. “I should gag that spicy mouth of yours right now. I didn’t get to do all the really kinky stuff with Charlotte.”

I doubled over from the searing pain in my stomach.

No. No. No. No.

He knew. She thought she’d fooled him but he knew.

Oh, Charlie. It was all for nothing.

He’s dangerous.

I clapped my hand over my mouth to muffle the wailing sob threatening to burst from me.

“Oh, come now, Victoria,” Jordan patronized, standing up. “I indulged in your sister’s sweetness. Did she tell you how eager she was for it? Especially when she told me she was you? I knew she wasn’t. But I didn’t want to ruin her fantasy. The fantasy of being someone else, acting like someone else. It turned her on. I barely had to do any work to get her ready—”

“Shut up,” I shouted. “You took advantage of her. You threatened her. You forced her—”

“I forced nothing,” he countered.

“You took my sister from me.” My whole body shook. “You took her innocence. You took her like you take everything else.”

“Did Xavier tell you that? Did he make it sound like all I do is take things away from people? Did he tell you how he punched me and nearly broke my jaw because his girlfriend wanted to fuck me? Because she made the advances?”

“You’re lying.”

He scoffed. “Did he tell you how she hated it when he’d be rough with her? The fucking prick didn’t know how to control his urges, no matter how much Bennet tried to teach him.” His brown eyes flicked over me, pausing briefly at the ring hanging from my necklace. “Did he tell you he stole my fiancée from me?”

I staggered backward, giving myself breathing room. Jordan’s imposing frame filled my sight. The things he said. I didn’t believe one word. I couldn’t. None of it made any sense.

“Xavier Maddox has a reputation for a reason,” he glowered. “He loves the attention. Loves the footballer way with women. He’s discreet, I’ll give him that. You won’t find many kiss and tell articles about him. But he’s not what you think.”

“You’re lying,” I repeated, my voice shaky and weak.

“Am I? You should ask him.” A wicked smile pulled at his lips. “Oh, right. Xavier is being noble and righteous these days. He thinks he’s protecting you by distancing himself. Classic move.”

The insistent blaring of a car horn sledgehammered its way through this abhorrent conversation .

When Jordan put his hand on my shoulder I shrank away from him.

“And just so you know, I’ve forgiven you for not selling me Briarcliff Cottage. I was really annoyed with you there for a bit but I think this will work to my advantage anyway.”

My mouth dropped open in shock. He grinned.

“Be careful, Victoria. You never know who’s watching.”

“Hey.” I heard Hannah’s loud, concerned voice. “There you are. I’ve been driving all over the goddam city looking for you.” She approached us, holding her phone up like she’d been talking to someone. “Everything okay here?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jordan replied, affecting his fake southern accent again. “This lovely woman was just giving me directions.”

“Right,” Hannah said, glaring at him and then looking at me. “Let’s go.”

I followed her back to the waiting car without glancing back.