Her Rebellion, page 4
With a shuddered breath, I pick up the fallen tube of lipstick and cap it, returning it to my bag and zipping it up. Then I stare at my reflection as my fingers move to the knot of my robe, lingering with hesitation. I haven’t looked at any of the marks other than the one still fading on my wrist. I haven’t been brave enough. But I know if I want to return to myself, it’s time to face it. I need to see the fresh scars left by another man’s anger for me to bear for all of eternity.
I close my eyes and unknot the belt slowly, forcing the material off my shoulders until it slides over my body and pools at my feet. My legs feel far too stiff as I pivot, turning my head over my shoulder and sucking in a sharp breath before I force my eyes open.
A second passes, followed by another, and confusion melts over me as I examine the flesh I was certain would be forever ruined. Except, there is only one faint mark that’s nearly healed, a light pink line across my left thigh. And I can’t make sense of it. I don’t understand.
My trembling fingers move over the skin for confirmation as I wonder if I’m hallucinating. But clearly, I’m not. I can feel nothing but smooth skin where I was convinced there were deep cuts. My mind drifts back to that night, and I shake as I recall the time that passed afterward.
They kept me drugged, but why? Was it for the pain, or something else?
“Oh.” Lois’s soft voice startles me, and when I meet her gaze in the mirror, I can see the concern etched into her features.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to—”
“There aren’t any scars,” I murmur dazedly.
She hesitates on the threshold of the bathroom, her empathetic eyes shining with the answer I didn’t want to see.
“No,” she says softly. “There aren’t any new scars.”
“So I was drugged because…” The words trail off when I can’t bring myself to admit I lost my grip on reality.
“It was for your own protection and your peace of mind.” Lois takes a careful step forward. “Judge didn’t want you to suffer.”
I trace the length of the faint pink line where Theron used the cane. “How much of it was real?” I whisper. “How much was in my head?”
Lois comes to me, reaching down to grab my robe and gently drapes it over my shoulders before she turns me to meet her gaze.
“Sometimes the past has a way of dragging us back,” she explains delicately. “And sometimes, we’re trapped between that past and the present. The pain you felt was real, Mercedes. You didn’t imagine that.”
I understand what she’s telling me. It was real to me, no matter what it looked like on the outside. Because in my fragile state, I was trapped in a memory. A time when my wounds seemingly wouldn’t heal. When the split skin twisted and snarled and embedded itself so deep into my psyche, it won’t ever let me go.
“You must think I’m insane.” I bring my fingers to my temples and press, hoping to keep the emotion at bay.
“No.” Lois’s voice is firm, but kind. “I think you’ve been through hell, sweetheart. And what happened to you isn’t any less traumatic just because it didn’t leave visible scars this time. Some of our most painful experiences are the ones that leave scars nobody can see. That doesn’t make them any easier to live with.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “For being so nice to me.”
“You deserve nothing less.” She squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t forget that, dear.”
It would be tempting to argue that notion, but Lois is too sweet to see anything other than good in the people around her. And for that I can be grateful, even if I don’t truly deserve it.
“Now.” She offers me a lighthearted smile. “Let’s get you dressed, shall we?”
Just a little past six o’ clock, my bedroom door creaks open, alerting me to Judge’s presence. I don’t have to look up from my book to know it’s him. The energy changes the moment he appears, as if he sucks all the oxygen from the room. But when I bookmark my page and glance up at him, it would seem, for only a moment, I might possess some of the same magic too.
He’s staring at me with unmistakable heat in his eyes as they take in the red pencil dress that hugs every inch of my body. I can see I’ve caught him off guard, but I don’t know why he’d expect anything less. This is the Mercedes he’s always known before he decided to strip me bare.
His gaze trails over the square neckline, over the gentle curves of my cleavage, and down my hips all the way to my black Louis Vuitton heels. He scrubs a hand over his jaw, muttering a curse before his gaze darts back to mine.
“You look beautiful,” he says.
I don’t reply. I’m not in the business of thanking men for compliments after they’ve discarded me. But there is something about the tension in Judge’s body that sets me on guard. I noticed it this morning during our brief interaction when he reappeared. His mind was somewhere else, and I couldn’t help wondering where exactly that was.
I heard him leave late last night as I lay in my bed, staring at the wall with my back to him. He’s still sleeping in my room, which I don’t understand. But I suppose he needs to make sure I don’t off myself in his care and ruin his precious reputation.
That’s what I choose to believe because he’s shown me who he is, and he showed me again last night. When his phone received an incoming text long past reasonable business hours, he didn’t hesitate to answer it before he got up and left.
I stood by the window and watched his car disappear down the long driveway, wondering who it was he was going to see. Which courtesan has so captured his attention that she is able to call him to her in the middle of the night?
As much as I hate to admit it, the reality still chokes the air from my lungs. It burns my skin and makes me wish I could forget the feeling of his hands on my body. The feeling of him inside me. I gave something to him I can’t ever give anyone else, and he chose to stomp all over it.
“Your friends are here,” he informs me. “We’re going to have dinner together.”
I nod and rise on shaky legs, forcing some steel into my backbone as I walk to join him. When I do, he halts me at the door with his fingers on my chin, tipping it up so I’m forced to look at him.
“No games tonight, Mercedes.”
He doesn’t state it like a threat, but I know it is. I can see he’s not in the mood, and quite frankly, neither am I. When it comes to Solana and Georgie, I’m not about to do anything stupid to put them at risk. He would understand that if he truly knew anything about me.
“No games,” I sigh my agreement.
He nods, releasing my face only to press his hand to my lower back and guide me out into the hall. We walk together in silence, both of us seemingly lost in our own thoughts. A nervous flutter stirs in my belly as we near the sitting room, and I’m praying for the strength to hold it together when I see my friends. I’m excited and anxious, though you couldn’t tell from my stone-cold exterior.
When we turn the corner and Judge guides me inside the room, Solana and Georgie both jump up from the sofa to greet me with equal gasps of shock and relief.
“Oh, my God.” Solana wails as she closes the distance between us, dragging me into her arms as she begins to sob. “I thought you were dead, Mercedes!”
I don’t have a moment to speak before Georgie wraps his arms around me too, and I’m engulfed by the two of them. Despite my best efforts, their tears spur my own, and I find myself choking on breaths of air before Judge seems to sense my despair and clears his throat behind us.
“Shall we sit down?”
They both release me reluctantly, Solana holding me at arm’s length as her eyes move over me. I don’t miss the challenge Georgie shoots Judge with his gaze as he strokes my arm and squeezes my hand in his.
“Are you okay, love?” he asks.
“Where have you been?” Solana demands. “We’ve been worried sick.”
My eyes move over them, Solana in her long, witchy black dress with silver bangles adorning her arms. She’s as beautiful as ever. Even as she glares at Judge with her bright green eyes like she’s taking a mental picture for the voodoo doll she’ll make in his likeness. And then there’s Georgie, come to rescue me in his finest suit, a navy-blue affair with a patterned pocket square. They have such a calming, protective presence it makes me feel like myself again, even if it is only for just a moment. God, I have missed them so much.
“Mercedes?” Solana gives me a gentle squeeze, and I realize I still haven’t spoken.
I open my lips, but nothing comes out. That’s when Judge takes it upon himself to intervene, branding his hand around my waist possessively before he pulls me back against him. It’s unexpected, and when I turn to look up at him, his eyes flare as he brushes his fingers over my jaw in an obvious display of ownership.
I don’t have to guess who it’s for. There’s a palpable tension between my friends and him, but most notably, the biggest threat he perceives is Georgie. It’s such a ridiculous notion I almost want to laugh, but I decide to let him make a fool of himself instead by pissing imaginary circles around me.
“I come bearing drinks.” Lois interrupts the moment, dissolving some of the tension as she hands out a wineglass to each of us, with the exception of Judge, who doesn’t take anything.
I find it rather odd but shove my curiosity aside as we all take our seats. Georgie and Solana return to the sofa, and Judge keeps me close to his side on the chaise opposite them.
“So?” Georgie arches a brow at me. “Are we going to get any explanation?”
I don’t miss the way his eyes dart to Judge’s hand around my back in question. That question feels like a what the hell are you doing, Mercedes?
“I’m so sorry I haven’t been in contact,” I begin, trying to gather my thoughts as I speak.
I didn’t really have a plan for how I was going to explain my absence, but I don’t think it matters. There’s nothing I can really say to justify it. All I can hope is that I convince them I’m okay, and they don’t need to worry about me. This is how things are handled in IVI. Society business stays in The Society.
“Tell us what’s going on,” Solana pleads.
“I—” My voice fractures slightly before Judge’s fingers press into me.
“Mercedes was involved in an incident,” Judge supplies for me. “For her protection, she needed to come stay with me, and she’s been under my care. It’s for her own safety.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Georgie narrows his gaze at him.
“We want a word with Mercedes in private,” Solana demands.
I look at Judge in a silent plea. He knows they aren’t going to take his word, and I need him to trust that I can handle this. He’s only making things worse right now by trying to manage the situation for me.
His arm stiffens around me as he realizes what I want, but reluctantly, he nods and rises to his feet.
“I’ll go check on dinner,” he grunts before shooting Georgie a warning look. And then, to top things off, he leans down and brushes his lips against my forehead in a gentle kiss.
It shocks me so much I can’t seem to speak when he releases me. I’m still staring after him in confusion when he leaves the room, and it’s only the sound of Solana’s voice that brings me back to the present.
“Mercedes, what the hell is going on?” She comes to my side, Georgie squeezing in on the other. “Who is that guy?”
“He’s my… guardian,” I try to explain.
Both of them frown. I don’t know how to navigate this situation. I’ve never needed to describe something like this to an outsider. Everyone in The Society understands the rules, but the rest of the world doesn’t. It isn’t something they can wrap their heads around. It will take a delicate balance of giving them enough information to satiate their concerns but not too much to endanger them.
“You’re twenty-five years old,” Georgie says. “Why would you need a guardian?”
“It’s… complicated,” I grumble. “But this is how things work in my world. I know it’s hard to understand but please try. It’s Judge’s job to protect me. He wasn’t lying about that.”
“Protect you from what?” Solana asks.
I dip my gaze to the floor, recalling the reason I ended up here in the first place. “From myself, mostly.”
They glance at each other, and Georgie’s hand squeezes mine. “Are you in danger?”
“Do you want to be here?” Solana adds.
“I’m not in danger,” I assure them, though nothing has ever felt like more of a lie. “And… I’m safe here.”
They aren’t fooled by my vague assertions, and it shows.
“I just don’t understand this,” Georgie growls. “Something isn’t right. We want you to come back with us. Please, Mercedes.”
“I can’t do that.” I offer him a shaky smile. “I’m sorry, but—”
“Are you in the mafia?” Solana whispers, her eyes wide. “Is that it?”
I can’t help but laugh at her observation, but she doesn’t share my amusement.
“What else am I supposed to think?” she hisses quietly. “You’re so guarded about your life. Your family. We realized after you disappeared how little we actually know about you. Then this guy shows up at Georgie’s shop, throwing around his wealth, and gives us this address with a mysterious invitation. And this place… it’s like a fucking fortress. None of it adds up.”
My eyes drift to the vases of roses around the room, and a strange warmth creeps over my chest. I know there are more important things to focus on, but I can’t understand why Judge would buy all of those.
“Does this have something to do with that weird tattoo on the back of your neck?” Georgie asks.
I stiffen at the mention of it, and they don’t miss it.
“It means something,” Solana agrees. “But you’ve never explained it.”
“Look.” I squeeze each of their hands in mine. “I am so sorry I made you worry about me. I truly didn’t mean to, and I feel terrible about that. If I could have contacted you, I would have. I’ve missed you both every single day, and it means so much to me to know that you care. But I can assure you I’m safe, and I’m not in the mafia.”
“Semantics.” Georgie rolls his eyes. “Whatever it is they call themselves these days. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Don’t insult us by lying to us.”
“I’m not trying to insult you,” I whisper. “I’m trying to protect you.”
They both frown, and I know that was the wrong thing to say. I work quickly to try to correct it.
“There’s a lot in my life you don’t know about, and I can’t explain. I wish I could, but it’s not safe for you to know these things. What I can promise you is that I’m okay here, and I just need to stay under Judge’s protection until things blow over.”
“When will that be?” Solana asks, the evidence of her hurt clearly written on her face.
I hate that I’m doing this to them. I hate that I can’t be honest with them about The Society, but it really is for their own safety. I don’t trust that Judge isn’t going to punish them if I make one wrong move.
“I don’t know just yet,” I admit. “But I swear to you, the moment I do, you’ll be the first to hear from me.”
“No.” Georgie shakes his head. “We need a line of communication with you. We aren’t leaving here until we have that.”
“We’re not waiting in the dark,” Solana agrees.
I swallow painfully, trying to figure out how I’m going to tell them that’s not possible, when Judge interrupts from behind us.
“She has a new phone,” he tells them. “You can text or call her on that number. I’ll give it to you before you leave.”
I glance back at him, my eyes searching his, but I can’t make out the motivation behind his concession. It feels too good to be true, but there is no sign of deception on his face.
“I don’t understand why she hasn’t had it this whole time,” Solana mutters. “But whatever. If you miss even one of my calls or texts, I’m coming to check on you. Let that be clear.”
Judge looks less than pleased with her threat, but he simply jerks his chin in agreement before gesturing to the dining room.
“Dinner is ready.”
6
MERCEDES
With the assistance of a few more glasses of wine, we fall into a much less stilted conversation during dinner. Judge is mostly a silent observer from his seat, his fingers trailing over my shoulder as my friends pepper me with questions and then catch me up on the latest happenings in their own lives.
They explain how they’ve been trying to bring attention to my disappearance but have been blocked at every turn. Their inferences don’t escape my notice. If they didn’t believe I was connected to some type of powerful organization before, this seems to confirm it.
“I mean how the hell do the police just make something like that disappear?” Solana questions. “Then there are the lawyers. What kind of lawyer turns down money? And don’t get me started on the private investigators we hired. One of them just seemed to evaporate into thin air.”
I dart a glance at Judge, and he squeezes my shoulder in a silent warning that now isn’t the time to talk about that. He can’t seem to stop sizing up Georgie, and I know that’s what’s been on his mind throughout dinner as he observes us.
“How is business?” I ask Georgie and Solana, trying desperately to change the subject.
“Fine.” Solana waves her hand dismissively. “We’ve been too focused on you to worry about that.”
“When can we see you again?” Georgie meets Judge’s gaze as he directs the question to me. “Outside of this house. Everyone misses you at aerial class.”
Judge’s fingers stop moving against my shoulder, and I hate that I’m waiting for him to speak, but there’s no point in trying to supply an answer myself.
