Chapter Twenty-Nine

Fifteen Years Old.

I end up spending summer break in Southie.

Mom and Dad are bummed that I haven’t gone to a training camp. Even more so that I don’t want to go back to cross-country next year. They’ll survive.

Persephone and Sailor are blossoming into little women. It’s nice to watch, even if I’ve never felt more uncomfortable in my bones than I do now. Ross, now fifteen, experienced his first sloppy kiss. With a guy named Rain who was vacationing with his family on the Cape at the same time Ross was there with his family. They exchanged numbers, but when Ross got home and called, he realized a number was missing. He’s been crying and laughing about it for days now.

Me, I made it my mission to turn myself into a chameleon. I start putting on makeup and experimenting with my hair and clothes. Anything to make myself more comfortable in my skin. The good thing about this whole year is that my knee is no longer suffering. It still hurts but it doesn’t feel like death anymore.

I walk back from Ross’ place. Jokes aside, he’s been pretty bummed about the whole Rain thing. I wish I could tell him things could be much worse as far as first kisses go. But I know he’s going to freak out if I mention Coach, and honestly, it doesn’t even matter at this point. It’s done. Over.

I bob my head to the sound of “Hate to Say I Told You So” by The Hives, trying to lighten my own mood. Maybe I’ll ask Persy and Sailor if they want to catch a movie or something. Get all the sugar rush from the soda and eat buttered popcorn.

I take the shortcut to our apartment through an alleyway, when a blue car pulls up and blocks my way to the other side. Its blueness hits me in the gut immediately.

Brenda?

I rip my headphones from my ears, turn around, and start running without finding out. I hear a car door open and slam shut behind me. My knee slows me down, but I’m still fast as hell. All I need is to get to Main Street and then it’s done. There’s nothing she can do to me.

But then I feel a hand grab onto my throat, and I’m being dragged back into the alleyway, kicking and screaming. I can tell it’s not Brenda. Brenda wouldn’t be faster than me. And her palms wouldn’t feel so rough.

“Hello, little liar. Where’s Jeff? I’ve been keeping an eye on you all summer and noticed you haven’t met a single boy. Even with your slutty new look.”

His voice makes me want to throw up. I roar savagely, throwing fists everywhere.

He cups my mouth to shut me up. I feel Coach’s fingers behind the small of my back as he unbuckles himself. Tugs my mini skirt up.

No, no, no. no.

“Now, now. You can go and fuck whoever you want after I’m done with you, but I’m going to pop that sweet cherry. Let me just grab a condom.”

I find fresh wrath in me when I hear the word condom. I manage to turn around and claw my nails into his eyes. Momentarily free, I scream for help again. With his vision blurred, he pounces on me, tackling me to the ground. His first blow lands on my jaw and stuns me into silence, even when the rest of my body still struggles to break free.

“Fine, never mind about the condom. Bitch.” He spits on my face.

I continue fighting, even when I know I’ve lost the war.

When all my soldiers are dead, and my horses are gone, and my land is swollen, thick with blood.

I keep fighting when he breaks me.

When he takes me.

When there’s nothing left to fight for.

I keep fighting, because that’s the only way I know how to survive.

The morning after my argument with Devon, I padded barefoot to his bed to apologize, but at six-thirty, he wasn’t there.

I brushed my teeth, slipped into a white mini-dress that highlighted my calves, and ate a piece of avocado toast. Afterwards, I drove to a different police station from the one I previously went to, and, the good girl that I was, filed another complaint, this time with a policewoman who seemed much more competent and much more freaked out about it, which oddly made me feel better.

By noon, my schedule was clear and my ass was bored. I knew Sam Brennan, whom I was planning to corner and demand he take me on as a client, wasn’t going to be in Badlands before eight in the evening, so I still had time to burn.

I stopped by Madame Mayhem to go over a few files and check on the staff. Devon didn’t want me to go there, but I had my gun, Krav Maga skills, and Simon.

As much as I hated to admit it, having a bodyguard the size of a politician’s ego wasn’t such a bad thing.

I showed up at the back office of my own club, armed with my laptop and a smile.

“Honey, I’m home!” I announced to Ross, whose eyes bulged out of their sockets on impact. He rushed to me, shaking his head and fist simultaneously.

“Holy Cody Simpson’s abs on a poster! What’re you doing here?”

“Working?”

“Under these circumstances?” He cradled my belly—the belly in which a person was now fluttering and flipping and doing all kinds of amazing things, especially at night—and gasped.

“Yeah. You expect me to just drop my responsibilities and dip?”

“I’m expecting you to look out for your wellbeing as well as your child’s!”

“I’m just going to do a couple hours of spreadsheets.”

“Bitch, you’re not an accountant. The world’s not going to collapse into itself if you don’t check on the Belgian beer supply today. And, sorry to break it to you, we’re doing swimmingly without you.”

Simon appeared out of nowhere, as if by magic, the minute my voice carried from the backroom.

To say he didn’t look happy to see me was the understatement of the century.

“You’re here.” Simon stopped at the door, disappointment rolling from his body in waves.

“Hello to you too, Si!” I smiled broadly.

“Mind if I work alongside you in your office?” he asked me but looked at Ross, as if to say, I’m knocking down her door if she refuses.

I waved him off with a smile. “Sure, whatever makes you and your uptight boss happy.”

“You’re your own greatest health hazard. I’m on the verge of quitting.” Ross slapped the back of his hand to his forehead before stomping off back to the bar to unload a shipment of alcohol. “Oh, and I’m telling your beau!”

I settled in front of my desk and popped my laptop open. “Go ahead, traitor!”

Ross popped his head back through my door, grinning like a loon. “So he is your beau. Girl … so jealous!”

I was putting a real dent in my workload, securing an out-of-state burlesque act that was visiting from Louisiana for the summer and negotiating a contract with a new liquor distributor, when there was a knock on my office door.

Rolling back in my chair, I stretched. “Thank God. I could use a distraction. Maybe it’s food. Do you think it’s food, Si?”

Simon, who sat a few feet away from me, dutifully pretending to do some filing even though there was very little to be filed in my office, stood up from his spot on the floor and dusted off his jeans. He motioned me with his hand to stay seated, heading for the door.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re anal-retentive, Si? You could use some loosening up.”

Baby Whitehall fluttered in agreement inside my belly, and I cradled it for a moment.

“Yeah, fair point, Baby Whitehall. I know. Mommy’s not perfect either. But you have to admit at least I come close.”

“There’s a woman here to see you,” Simon said tersely, blocking my line of vision of who it was with his Robocop shoulders.

“My, my, my, a visitor.” I laced my fingers together. “Is it Pers or Sailor? Ash is at work, so it can’t be her. Either way, they aren’t allowed in unless they come bearing edible gifts.”

“I think you should pass on this meeting. It’s not a social call.” Simon’s face was so tight, I thought he was going to explode.

“Who is it?”

“Miss Penrose …”

Why did he still insist on Miss Penrose when I called him Si? Why couldn’t he be less uptight? Where the heck did Devon find this guy anyway?

“Who. Is. It?” I repeated, getting sick and tired of men telling me what to do.

Simon took a deep breath, throwing his head back in exasperation. “Louisa Butchart.”

“Let her in and leave.” My voice was ice cold.

“But—”

“Do it, Si. Before I kick you out of my establishment. You know I can.”

Furthermore, he knew I would.

We stared at each other for a beat. Heaving out a sigh, he stalked out of my office. I could see his head peeking in the hallway, though, staying close by.

Louisa waltzed in, stylishly emaciated in an Alexander McQueen pleated coat dress.

I wasn’t intimidated. Just pissed off she kept showing up like a fart stain on underwear every time I tried pushing her out of my mind.

“Louisa! What a delightful surprise. Lost your way to Chanel?” I put on my best fuck-you smile.

“Oh, Emmabelle, I do love your dress. What is it exactly? Victoria’s Secret shag-me-in-the-dark?” she drawled, perching her bony ass on the edge of the seat.

Her vintage Hermes told me she meant business. Nobody had any business carrying a 250k bag unless they were willing to show what was inside it was equally as impressive.

“To what do I owe this visit?” I purred, cutting straight to the chase.

“I think we both know the answer to that question, so why don’t we skip the part where I insult your intelligence and you waste my time?”

“Sounds good.” I curled my hair around one finger playfully. “So you’re still holding out hope you can get your claws on my boyfriend?”

I had no idea why I decided to call him that in front of her, but it felt right. The title. The weight of it. Besides, Devon called me his girlfriend the other day, so surely I wasn’t completely off base. Even if I was pretty sure he currently wanted to murder me.

“Girlfriend?” she huffed. “Devvie’s family will never accept you. In fact, there will be no family to accept you after this is all done and dealt with. Devon might seem tough and unrelenting when it comes to his mother, but trust me, he spent half his lifetime trying to cater to her every whim. Family is everything. If you care for him, you would not deprive him of his. One baby is not enough to replace all he’d be losing.”

This woman had some ovaries on her—balls implied that women didn’t have courage, an idea I rejected promptly. After all, it wasn’t men who found themselves pushing a watermelon-sized human out of their pee pee hole.

Draping my hand on my chest, I feigned shock.

“I didn’t realize I was destroying his life. Please allow me to remedy the situation immediately by moving to a tropical country and changing my name so he can’t find me.”

The words—you guessed it—were spoken in a fake English accent.

“Don’t play dumb. We both know his relationship with you is the only thing in the way of our marriage,” Louisa bit out impatiently.

“So?” I yawned. “We’re both consenting grown-ups. And I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re kind of in the middle of taking a huge step together.”

“The step means nothing in your situation. You’re not getting married. You don’t love him, I do. He means nothing to you.”

This time, each of her words cut into me like shards of glass, because I realized they weren’t true.

Still, I couldn’t confess my feelings to Devon, let alone this she-devil.

“What’s your point?” I drummed on the back of my laptop, rolling my eyes.

“Let him go. Tell him you don’t want anything to do with him. Open the path for him to go back to his family, to his sister, to me. This is his destiny. It’s what he was born for.”

“He was born to make his own decisions.”

“No, maybe you were. A commoner, with no legacy or responsibilities. Devon was made for greater stuff.”

Outrage propelled me from my seat. I threw my hands up in the air for good measure.

“You want me to tell him to screw off so you can marry him? Give me one goddamn reason why I should.”

“Very well. I’ll give you one million of them.”

Louisa slammed her bag between us on my desk with a thud and took out a pre-written check.

I had to blink rapidly to see if the numbers were right. Yup. Sure were. One million dollars, paid to the order of Emmabelle Petra Penrose.

I twisted my thumb ring without touching the check, which was now sitting on the desk between us. I ran my teeth over my lower lip.

My rage was replaced with worry and trepidation.

How did she know my middle name?

How long had she been gunning for me to leave Boston?

And didn’t all of this feel just a little too … familiar? Like maybe Frank wasn’t the only source of the threats toward me.

I tried to think about it pragmatically. To do what was best for me and the baby.

Devon was a risk. I felt all kinds of things toward him. Things I had no business feeling. If he married Louisa, I wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. I’d never touch a married man again, dead or alive. The problem would be solved.

And while we were speaking about the pros of taking the money, I would be set for life. I could keep Madame Mayhem and still take a huge step back. Provide security for myself without having to jump through hoops, carry a weapon, and beg Sam Brennan to pick up my calls.

I could put Ross in charge of the club, which I was growing tired of anyway—being raunchy and shocking was a full-time job, it seemed—and find another venture.

Maybe a high-fashion store. Or an interior design company.

Then there were the cons.

And many of those too.

First and foremost, I didn’t want Louisa to win.

She was strong-arming me, and I didn’t respond well to bullying.

The second thing was it wasn’t fair to Devon.

It wasn’t my place to decide for him who he’d marry or not marry.

Ultimately, though, there was one deal breaker—Louisa and Ursula could both be behind the threats against me, and by taking this deal, I could protect my child.

I just had to play my cards right and ensure that neither my baby nor Devon would get the short end of the stick in this situation.

Picking up the check, I threw it in front of Louisa’s face with a smile.

Time to play hardball.

“Sorry, no dice, princess. Dev and I have a contract in place. I already agreed he’ll be a part of the baby’s life and share custody with me. I intend to keep my word.”

“Oh, Devvie,” Louisa clipped, massaging her temples. “You had to go for the one whore with the heart of gold …”

“I’m not a whore,” I hissed. “But I can recognize a bitch when I see one.”

“He’ll be in the baby’s life.” She pushed the check toward me again. “I give you my word. We both know I can’t stop him from doing that. But he’d still be married to me.”

“Dandy. Then what are you asking me for exactly?” I asked.

“Dump him,” Louisa said quietly. “I’ll do the rest. But please, just … just cut it off with him. I know women like you. You don’t have a future with him. You don’t take him seriously. Your intentions aren’t pure—”

“And yours are?” I cut into her words.

She screwed up her face in distaste.

“He is about to lose everything his family has worked centuries for.”

Arguing with her on this topic was pointless. Devon had admitted as much to me himself.

At the end of the day, Devon and I weren’t a good fit. No one would be a good fit for me.

“I’ll take the money and leave him, but I’m not pushing him away from the baby’s life, and I’m not moving out of Boston.”

It amazed me, just how much I hated myself in that moment.

How I turned out to be as bad as the people who scarred me.

The Mr. Lockens of the world. Without virtue, morals, or direction.

“Fine. Fine. That’s good enough for me. When will you do it?” Louisa asked.

Numbly, I pocketed the check in my purse under my desk. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. Like it wasn’t me who was sitting in front of this woman now.

It’s for the best.

He would hurt you.

Every other man you put your trust in has.

“Today.”

“Good. Then I’ll be sure to be on standby when he seeks my comfort.”

She stood up, clapping her hands together once. “Ursula is going to be very happy with the news.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” I was about to keel over and throw up.

“You’re doing the right thing,” she assured me.

Nodding faintly, I pointed at the door. I could barely breathe, let alone talk.

Louisa walked away, closed the door behind her, and left me with the weight of my decision, knowing full well it was going to crush my soul to oblivion.