Brutal Obsession, page 31
But he’s the last one who should suffer through my public meltdown.
Maybe he feels differently, because his arm slides under my knees and behind my back. He scoops me up like I’m weightless and cradles me to his chest. My mouth is open, desperate for air, but nothing comes.
I’m not weightless. I’ve got a thousand pounds on my chest.
He carries me into a bathroom and sets me on the counter. He’s between my knees now, holding my face in both his hands. His lips touch mine, and I don’t know what to do with that. My mind shorts out.
I grip his shirt and anchor myself to him.
He kisses me through my tears and mess, pushing air into my lungs.
It isn’t so much a kiss as a resuscitation.
His breath fills my chest.
I exhale in a rush, through my nose.
We repeat, and I don’t have time to think. My mind stutters to a stop, just aware of his fingers splayed across my face, and his lips on mine. I tug at his shirt, inching closer. Until I can wrap my legs around his hips and fully press my torso to his.
He pulls away, just slightly, and looks me over. He swipes his thumbs under my eyes, catching tears and probably no shortage of running mascara.
“You always see me at my worst,” I murmur, a lump forming in my throat again. I’m too greedy taking deep gulps of air to say more. I feel like I just starved myself of oxygen for too long. The dizziness is still there, pushing at the edges of my consciousness.
“I want to see you at your worst,” he replies. “And your best. And everything in between.”
I don’t know how to respond.
“Tell me.”
“My mother.” I close my eyes.
More tears. They leak out, and he catches them with the pads of his fingers. He collects them like memorabilia, savoring them before they disappear.
“I think she’s finally set me aside for good.” I force myself to look at his face, to absorb his reaction. “She does that, you know. She forgets things, leaves them behind. I didn’t think she’d do that to me… but I haven’t talked to her in months. Actually talked to her.”
He scowls. “Parents are overrated.”
I touch his cheek. Of course he thinks that. His mom… he has happy memories of her, but she’s gone. And his father is the authority in his life. The loveless, political, power-hungry authority.
My mom did love me, but my father dying changed her. It ripped her up on the inside.
How do I compete with a broken heart?
“You and me, Vi,” he swears. “Okay? That’s all we need.”
I nod carefully. “That, and your teammates, and my friends. They’re our support system, too. Deep down, I think you love them just as much as I love Willow, Jess, and Amanda.”
He hesitates.
“If you didn’t trust Steele, you wouldn’t have had him in the locker room with you,” I point out. “And if you did something to Jack, I think you would’ve had someone with you for that, too. Or did you fly solo?”
I hold my breath. I never got concrete confirmation that he did anything to Jack. And while I don’t want to know what almost happened to me, I think I deserve the truth.
He sees my determination and sighs. He opens a video on his phone.
Jack is in the frame, hunched on the ground with the cliffs of the point behind him and the lake glistening in the moonlight in the distance. He’s looks like he went through a battering ram. His face is bruised and bleeding. He glares at someone off camera.
Greyson watches me. “Are you sure you want to know? You just… I just found you on the floor, Vi. Maybe wait a day.”
I shake my head and hit play.
“I went to her apartment after I saw the press release. I have a prescription to help me sleep. I brought some with me and crushed them up to put in her drink. It took a little while for it to hit her. I didn’t even have to force her to her bedroom—she walked there on her own two feet. I was going to fuck her, and I was going to video it and send it to you.”
Jack pauses.
“I’ve been dating Violet forever. She’s been by my side for the past three years. And then you come crashing into her life, and suddenly she wants nothing to do with me.”
He shuffles backwards a little.
“I fucking hate her for that. It’s a betrayal. She just left me? No.”
From off camera, Greyson asks, “You wanted to win her back?”
He laughs. “I fucking tried to mess with her head like you do. Especially after that video of her blowing me was posted. But instead of reacting like she does to you, she just… was done with me.”
It ends. The camera goes black.
At least it sort of confirms that Greyson didn’t take on Jack alone—but still, hearing those disgusting words come out of Jack’s mouth is something I wasn’t prepared for. I shudder.
“Why did you come to my apartment that night?”
He scowls and looks away. “A fucking fluke. I wanted to see up close and personal how you were handling the press release.”
“Asshole,” I mutter.
“You don’t remember what happened that night?”
I shrug. “No. I remember Jack waiting for me when I got home, and the next thing I know, I woke up feeling like garbage. Willow and I pieced together that something happened, but…”
“I came into your room to find him…” Greyson’s jaw tics, and he visibly has to wrestle himself under control. “He was about to make a choice that would’ve ended a lot differently for him if I had arrived five minutes later.”
I shudder.
“I knocked him out, put you to bed, and took him to the point. He needed to know that touching you would have consequences.”
“And you broke his knee?”
He sneers. “He got off easy.”
“After hearing that? Yeah, he did.”
He steals a kiss from my lips. It’s quick, there and then gone, but his smile is back. “See? You’re as bloodthirsty as me. Another reason why I love you.”
I freeze. “Love?” I choke out.
He grimaces. “Not romantic enough? Fine. I’ll tell you in other ways… tonight. After my hat trick.” He puts his lips next to my ear. “I’m looking forward to seeing you naked on our kitchen table.”
45
VIOLET
Here’s the thing about hockey: it’s fucking brutal.
Fights are legal, for the most part. As in, unless it’s extreme, you’re not going to get kicked out of the game. Brawls are an integral part of it.
So when we take our seats in the stadium, the energy is… intense. More so than the regular season games. It thrums through my system like a cranked-up stereo is pressed to my skin. Grey gave the four of us—Willow, Jess, Amanda, and me—better seats. We’re at center ice, right up at the glass. Directly to our left is the penalty box and the Hawks’ bench. If I stand and lean back, I can see the broad-shouldered players.
We’re in the third period, just the start of it, with eighteen minutes left on the clock. The score is two to three, with the other team in the lead. Greyson has scored once, and my heart is in my throat. Two more, and I’ll be at his mercy. Until midnight anyway.
But I think I’ll be at his mercy anyway.
My phone vibrates, and I glance at the screen.
Mom
We need to talk.
I scowl.
Higher above us, Senator Devereux is in attendance with an entourage. They’ve taken over one of the suites. I’ve avoided looking up there—avoided turning around in general, for fear that he’ll see me and the ruse—the one where I stay away from his son—will burst.
My phone goes off again.
Mom
Violet, please. I’m outside the stadium.
She’s… what?
I nudge Willow and show her the two messages.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She scoffs. “No. Just pretend you didn’t see them.”
“Oh my god!” Amanda screeches, grabbing my arm.
Greyson has the puck, and he charges across the ice. He’s a force to be reckoned with. He passes it to Knox and darts around one of the defenders. Knox passes it to Erik, who gives it right back to Grey.
He shoots and scores, and the Hawks come barreling toward him in celebration. We all jump to our feet, cheering and screaming as his teammates skate around him and clap his back.
Three to four.
He skates past and points at me. He grins, holding eye contact, and then raises his index finger up. One more to go.
I blush and grin back. It’s hard to beat back the team spirit. The dance team embedded that in me, if nothing else. I want our school to win—to go all the way to the finals, even. And I definitely want to know what Grey is going to do to me after he makes another goal…
My phone buzzes, more insistent.
Mom’s calling me now.
“I’ve got to take this,” I say to Willow.
She grimaces. “Do you want me to go with you?”
I pause and meet her eyes. “Really?”
“Of course.” She’s decked out in blue and silver, just like me. We sprayed some blue glitter in our hair, and some of it has flaked off on our skin.
I’m about to tell her not to bother, that I’ll be okay, when she rises.
“Not going to give you a choice,” she says. “Let’s go.”
We slip out of the row and hurry up the steps. I make the mistake of glancing up as we’re about to go through the tunnel out into the hallway. Senator Devereux stands at the glass, his gaze on me.
Fuck.
Greyson was planning on talking to him tonight.
Willow pulls me away, and I take a deep breath as soon as we’re out of sight. He freaks me out more than Greyson ever did.
We exit the stadium and step onto the sidewalk. I check both ways, trying to find my mother. I finally spot her across the street, pacing in front of a sleek black car.
“Violet!” she calls. She waves her hands.
Willow and I cross the street together, but I make the last few steps alone.
Even though time has passed, she appears… the same. People always said we looked similar. Like you could see us and tell we were related. Sisters, people often said, because Mom’s skin is smooth. Her hair is perfectly coifed, golden blonde. The features we share are those she can’t alter with Botox. The shape of our eyes, our noses, lips. The heart-shaped face.
Where I try to keep myself lean for ballet, she has curves. Hips and an ass that used to catch all the guys’ attention, her breasts—well, those are fake, at any rate. Not that anyone cares.
I don’t know what I expected. New wrinkles at the corners of her eyes maybe, or streaks of gray in her hair.
Whatever I think I might see… I don’t.
“What’s up?” I internally cringe at the question.
She twists her hands together, then sticks them in her pockets. “What’s been going on with you, Violet?”
I let out a choked laugh. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not this girl.” She steps closer, and her eyes dart over my shoulder. “You know the agreement we made.”
“I signed the NDA. What more is there?” My skin prickles. I sense there is more. The senator’s secretary let something slip that had me wondering—but this confirms it. “What did you do, Mom?”
She straightens. Her expression turns stony. “Come with me.”
She grabs my arm and tows me back toward the stadium. I stumble along with her, glancing over my shoulder. Willow trails us, her brows drawn down in confusion.
We get inside, and she drags me up the stairs. My stomach is in knots. We go around the corner, heading for the row of suites. I have a feeling I know exactly where we’re going. And yet, I can’t seem to slam on the brakes.
I need to know what kind of deal with the devil she made.
This moment is inevitable. It has been inevitable since my mother pushed me to file a lawsuit. Brought in the shiny, expensive attorney who sat next to my hospital bed and took notes, took pictures. It was invasive. The whole thing made me sick to my stomach… but I did it because I trusted her.
Somewhere along the line, my trust in her broke.
Maybe it was when she dropped me off at CPU and didn’t look back. Maybe it was earlier than that, when the light in her eyes dimmed when she watched me. Like I was the failure because my dance career shattered worse than my leg.
Either way, this distrust gnaws at me.
All the way to the senator’s suite.
She pushes the door open and goes inside. No hesitation. I keep my focus on her quick, short stride. Her body is tense. She raises her hand to fiddle with her hair, then drops it before touching a strand. Her mouth is pulled into a wide, fake smile.
My muscles tremble.
Willow is stopped at the door. I don’t realize it until a suited man moves in my peripheral, shutting the door with a quiet click right in her face.
I’m on my own.
Ahead of us and to the left are rows of chairs for viewing the game. A long table with white tablecloths is set against the right wall with a buffet-style assortment of finger foods. Behind us, against the wall, is a mini bar. So the rich don’t have to travel far for their liquor.
The senator is holding a mini conference toward the front, right by the glass. He and his friends don’t notice us enter. Their conversation continues, loud and boisterous. Below, the game continues. The clock ticks down. The Hawks are in the lead by one.
Something must’ve happened, because there’s a Knight in the penalty box.
Mom pinches the inside of my arm, and I snap back to attention.
“Senator,” she calls, guiding me with her.
Her arm is wrapped around mine now, and her nails are lodged in my skin. She gives me another pinch when I put up the slightest resistance. The pain is localized, but it still hurts.
Grey’s dad turns our way. His expression shuts down.
Not good.
I can’t tell if it’s me or my mother who causes it, and I swallow past a thick lump in my throat. I don’t like him. For six months—seven, now, actually—he’s been the boogieman in my mind. The one who has the power to ruin me. Financially, socially. I have no doubt that he could make it so no ballet company gave me a contract.
He’s got the reach and the incentive.
“Ms. Reece,” the senator replies.
His gaze lands on me, and shame bleeds through me. I wonder if he’s silently calling me out on my relationship with his son.
The son who loves you, I remind myself. I’m not sure why that’s a comfort, but it is. It soothes some of the turmoil inside me.
Mom thinks he’s talking to her, and she steps forward with renewed vigor. Like this warm welcome, if we can call it that, is exactly the sign she was looking for that things would work out in her favor.
Whichever way that is.
“James,” she greets him.
I bristle.
Why the hell is she on a first-name basis with him?
His gaze goes from her to me, then to the hand wrapped around my wrist. His lips quirk, and he turns to his friends. “Could you excuse us for a moment?”
They nod and eye us curiously, but they stride away. I watch them regroup at the bar.
“Leigh.” His eyebrow raises. “I thought you and I had an understanding.”
“I thought so, too,” she hisses.
“Ah.” He smiles. “Well, it seems your daughter didn’t get the memo.”
“What…” I glance between them, then settle on him. “What did she do?”
He grins. His forehead doesn’t wrinkle, his brows don’t furrow, but his eyes gleam. Another chess piece conquered, he must think. Another family divided.
Secrets will do that.
“Honey—”
“Your mother,” the senator interrupts, “has been getting paid to keep her mouth shut.”
I jerk out of her grip and stagger away.
But Mom is fast. She reacts like a snake, striking out and latching onto my shoulder. She hauls me into her. “Now is not the time to cause a scene, dear.”
“What did you do?” I whisper at her.
She shakes me slightly, then glances over her shoulder at the senator’s friends. She forces another smile. Like all is okay.
It’s not.
It’s far from okay.
“Except the payments stopped, did they not?” Senator Devereux tilts his head. “It was a decent sum altogether. It’s a pity that our agreement has come to an end.”
Her mouth drops open. “Excuse me?”
“These articles you keep writing.” He sighs and glances out toward the ice. Just a cursory glance, as if to keep up appearances. Faking his way through interest in his son’s life. “It’s getting tiresome, Leigh. Your desperate attempts to extort more money from my coffers.”
“I have done no such thing,” she snaps. “And—”
“And your daughter seems to be unable to keep away from Greyson.” He inclines his chin again, looking down his nose at us. Grey must’ve got his height from him. There are some other similarities, too. But even when he was at his cruelest, he didn’t have this sneer. “My son was part of the agreement, do you remember?”
She turns to me. “Tell me that isn’t true.”
It’s my turn to snort. “Tell me how I’m supposed to keep an agreement I wasn’t part of?”
“You agreed to keep away from my son,” the senator snaps. His composure is on the verge of breaking.
“Someone should’ve told him that,” I mumble.
What happened to my mother? She had a job, she had a house and a social life. Friends. A husband. Me. Then her husband died, and I didn’t realize how much that must’ve shattered her. She just couldn’t keep it together anymore.
I grab her hand, pulling her back a few steps. “Come on, Mom. You don’t need his money.”
She laughs. Loudly. It draws the attention of the guys at the bar, and the senator shakes his head.
“She’s high.” He doesn’t bother to lower his voice either. “She took my money and used it to buy more of those pills they gave you in the hospital. Or, perhaps you didn’t realize the bottles always ran out faster than they should’ve?”
