Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 94489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
"Would I know it?"
I name the place.
"One of my favorites," he says. "Beautiful photography."
"I'll pass on the compliment."
"My wife introduced me. She's the one with taste."
"No? The Lichtenstein doesn't disqualify her?"
"Are you an artist? You have a real eye for beauty."
Is that flirting or something else? It's strange. Weighted.
"I try." I look to the street as casually as possible. A smoker. A limo. A cab.
No sign of my Lyft.
The cab driver rolls down his window. "You need a ride, sweetheart?"
Maybe.
"She's waiting for a car," the man says.
The cabbie ignores him. "Why wait? I'm here now."
I pretend to check my phone. "I think my driver canceled. I better go before the place is slammed."
"Of course." He offers his hand again. "It was lovely to see you, Ms. Moyer."
"You too." I take his hand.
He shakes at first. Then he pulls me into an embrace.
It's too tight. It's awkward. It's completely wrong.
And then it's not.
Someone is pulling him away.
Simon.
He tosses Cole against the glass wall. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Cole starts to reply.
But Simon is too fast. He swings his arm.
His fist his Cole's face.
Bam!
I see the letters. The tiny dots and bright colors of a Lichtenstein.
It doesn't seem real.
It's a nightmare.
A strange man.
A violent Simon.
A monster.
I need to go.
I don't ask or answer or wait. I turn to the cabbie. "Uptown." I reach for the door. Slide inside.
Simon releases the guy.
He looks at me. Asks for something with his eyes.
But I can't look back.
I pull the door closed. "Hurry."
The driver speeds onto the street. Uptown.
To my apartment.
The drive passes in a flash.
All of a sudden, I'm saying hello to the doorman, walking past security.
The elevator.
The hall.
My apartment.
Celine sitting on the couch with Seb.
Sebastian.
All at once, it clicks.
That man. He's her husband.
And Seb's father—
That's Bash.
Simon's brother.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
VANESSA
"Vanessa? Are you all right?" Celine rises from her seat on the couch. She studies me with her gentle grey eyes. As if we're friends. As if this situation isn't hopelessly fucked.
"No."
"Is it your friend?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"He loves me."
Her brow furrows with confusion. "That's wonderful."
"He hurt someone."
Sebastian.
Bash for short.
Or Seb.
Why didn't I see it?
No one ever called him Sebastian, but I knew it was his name. We all did. We laughed about how he was nothing like the crab in The Little Mermaid.
"Have a seat, Vanessa." Celine's voice stays soft and maternal. "I'll fix tea."
No. I need to explain.
No. I can't explain.
But I have to say something. "Your husband. What's his name?"
"Cole."
"Fitzgerald?"
She nods.
"I saw him tonight." I don't know how else to explain. "I need to move you."
"Please, Vanessa."
"No." Firm. I need to be firm. "It's not safe. He saw me leave. He saw me and Simon together. He… Simon pulled him off me."
"Cole tried to hurt you?"
Did he? Was this about her? Or another man trying to cop a feel? "No." The word feels like a lie. A false promise. The kind my mother made. He's a good man. He just gets angry sometimes. He'll never hurt you. "I don't know. Either way, we need to move you." I find my cell. Ignore my missed calls from Simon.
I call Xavier.
No feelings. No panic.
Practical steps.
The guard outside is extra careful. Xavier is on his way. With backup. To move us. But this is it—if someone is watching, they'll see us.
If Celine wants to take the nuclear options, it's do or die.
I call Regina. Check the status.
Not perfect. But we can make it happen if absolutely necessary.
It's her choice.
It's not my choice.
It's not about my father or my mother or my sister or my—
Whatever Simon is.
I place my cell on the table. Deep breath. Slow exhale.
But my thoughts aren't straight.
They're a mess.
"Do you want a drink?" I ask.
"Let me."
"I don't want tea."
"Okay." Celine moves into the kitchen, finds the bottle of gin in the fridge, pours two glasses. "I'm sorry."
The gin burns, but I swallow in two gulps. I need the steady. The calm. Anything to ease my nerves.
Control.
I need control.
The way my father did.
The way Simon does.
We're the same.
We're monsters.
"Xavier is on his way," I say. "He'll take you somewhere safe. Regina will be there to brief you on your options. There's a shelter in another city. For security reasons, I don't know. They'll help you get settled."
"Or?" she asks.
"It's your choice," I say. "The option is still there. But there's no going back. You say goodbye to your friends and family until your husband is no longer a threat."
"Vanessa, I'm sorry."
"You were scared. You didn't know where else to go."
"I should have told you," she says.
Maybe. I don't know anymore.
"That is why I came here," she says. "Because I trust you. I just—I wanted to be near him. His life. His family."
"You don't owe me anything."
"Do you believe that?"
No. That's why I need to go. I'm involved. "Stay safe. Keep your son safe. That's all I want."