Chapter Fourteen
Harper
He is not James. He is not James. He is not James.
I know he’s not James, I don’t need the mantra to convince myself. I say it because I need to keep my mind from spinning out of control while we’re on the boat. It takes a long time to reach his yacht, and once we’re there, he takes me to a stateroom and says good night.
That’s it. Just good night.
The closet has two outfits. One set of modest night clothes. Tank top and shorts. And one set of outdoor wear. Jeans, boots, plain cotton shirt, and a light jacket.
I have a feeling we’re not going to be staying on board the yacht very long.
The bathroom is fitted with a large round tub, and even though all these things have happened to me in such a short time, I soak in the tub. I need something to settle me. To calm me. Hot water and a bottle of pills in an orange bottle on the counter are all I have, and I don’t want to take those pills. I cannot take those pills again.
So I soak for a little while and then change into my night clothes. When I come out of the bathroom, there’s a tray with cocoa and cookies.
Cocoa and cookies. Like I’m six fucking years old.
I drink the cocoa and skip the snack, then climb into bed. The ship is moving fast—full speed from the feel of it. It makes my stomach sick to think about it. It’s been far too long since I’ve been at sea for this to feel normal, but after tossing and turning for a few minutes, I finally drift off.
Sometime later Vincent wakes me. It takes me several seconds for his face come into focus once I open my eyes. “We’re ready. Please get dressed.” The hand he places on my arm gives me the chills and I pull away. The bedside light is flicked on and I have a chance to get a good look at him before he leaves my stateroom.
Why does he have to look exactly like James?
I dutifully put on the clothes and exit the cabin.
Vincent is waiting for me in the hallway wearing a dark blue suit with a tie that matches. Gone are his hoodie and boat shoes. He looks like a businessman now instead of a beach bum.
He gives me a quick smile and then I’m ushered up to the helipad and into the waiting ’copter before I even have time to think. I don’t know how long I slept, but it feels like late evening now. Almost all day if I had to guess.
Did he drug me? With the cocoa?
I don’t ask where we’re going. I stopped talking to him after he said he was James. I mean, please. These people treat me like I’m an idiot. He thinks I don’t know the difference between a stranger and the man I’m in love with?
God, did I just admit I love James?
I turn my head in the ’copter so the impostor can’t see me, and I grin. I’ve barely spent any time with James at all, but I know what I feel, and it’s love.
I miss him so bad.
Why did he drop me off?
I mean, yes, I can follow the logic. He was probably freaked out when that guy drugged me and maybe he thought I’d be safer on the yacht.
I probably would be safer on the yacht.
But I’m not on the fucking yacht. I’m in a goddamned helicopter flying to God knows where. And all this stuff about James being crazy—yeah, I can see that too. He’s totally psycho. I grin again. But that’s just part of his charm.
What girl does not fantasize about taming a wild man? Well, I never have until now. But that’s how I feel about it. James Fenici is one of the most dangerous men in the world and he wants to take care of me. He wants to love me and sleep with me. He listens to what I have to say and he puts all the violence aside when I’m next to him.
Grown men are terrified of him. Global organizations haven’t been able to kill him. And yet when his cock is in my mouth, he gives me all the power.
I could get drunk on that power I have over him. I could get off on that power too.
I want my James.
I’m not even remotely interested in what this stranger who looks like him has to say about anything. I don’t care if he’s the one I was promised to. What kind of man accepts a six-year old girl as his wife?
Sick. That’s sick.
James was the one who said no. James was the one with integrity. James was not insane when we turned six that year. He was untouched by all the killing that came afterward. And he was taken prisoner that first year. Left somewhere horrific for a long time, the notebook said. That’s bound to change anyone. And that’s not his fault.
The helicopter finally starts to descend just as the sun begins to set and even though I must’ve slept all day, I’m so tired.
“We’re about to land.” Vincent’s voice crackles though my headpiece.
I look over at him and before I can stop myself, I smile. His face catches me off guard a little. I mean, they are identical. The eyes. The haircut. The broad shoulders that taper down to the perfectly proportioned waist.
“I hope you like it.”
I cut the smile and add a nod. What does he want me to say? I’m not staying here. I’m not gonna be his wife. I do not give a shit what promise was made. I belong to someone else.
A few minutes later and we are on the ground and everything becomes all rush, rush. I have never understood the hustle involved with boarding and disembarking a helicopter. Why must they pull me along like we’re in some kind of war zone?
I go with it. Vincent’s grip on my arm is tight. Tighter than is normal. And I wonder how worried he is about me running off into some unfamiliar woods as he drags me away from the rotating blades and ushers me up a series of steps that lead to the back patio of an imposing Mediterranean-style mansion.
Even though the Spanish tile roof and warm stucco exterior might look welcoming in bright sunshine, the dusk makes it look ominous. “Where are we?” I finally ask as we slow our pace and he straightens out his shirt collar.
“North of Santa Barbara.”
“How the hell did we get to Santa Barbara from Newport Beach in a sailboat?” More importantly, how will James find me here? I’m not all that up on my American West Coast geography, but I think that’s a fair distance.
“We motored up the coast,” he answers back. “It’s difficult to navigate up the California coast in a sailboat.”
“We must’ve been hauling ass.”
“Language, Harper,” he says, only half paying attention as he reaches for my hand.
I shake it off. “Don’t,” I growl at him. “I might be your prisoner for now, but I’m not your fucking child to admonish.”
He snatches my hand and yanks me into his chest. “Manners, Harper Tate.” His steely gaze transfixes me. His green eyes flash. “I was told you have them. Was I lied to?”
I match his gaze and refuse to bend. “I have manners. But I’m not sure you deserve them.”
He loosens his grip on my hand and exhales. “Please,” he says, pressing his fingertips to the space between his eyes like he has a headache. “I don’t like the language and I don’t like the attitude. We’re both tired. We’ve been through a lot. And we’re going to freshen up and have a nice dinner so we can chat.”
“If you’re still insisting you’re James, then I’m going to refuse that chat.”
He grits his teeth. “If James is the one you think you want, then I am James.”
“How did you know about that conversation we had about power?”
He laughs a little under his breath and then leans into my ear. “I was there, Harper. That was me.”
“That was not you!”
“How do you know?”
I just stare at him. “I know.”
He moves my hand to the bulge between his legs and presses it. “Tell me how you know.”
I yank my hand away and step back. “You were watching us. You had cameras. Something. But that was not you. And I’ll tell you how I know. Because even though James made it very clear I belong to him, he does not treat me like property. He respects me.”
“Ha,” Vincent laughs. “That’s a good one. Well, you got me. I’m Vincent. I’m not sorry for being Vincent instead of James. I am sorry I didn’t get to you before he did. I am sorry you sucked his cock before you’ll suck mine. But we have all the time in the world to make up for that.”
I can’t even move, that’s how off-guard I feel. Should I fight him? But where would I go? I don’t even know where I’m at. Santa Barbara. I’m just not sure where I could go from there.
His hand wraps around my waist, squeezing as he pulls me close to his chest. “Forget about James, Harper. James is a dead man. He’s crazy, OK? He’s lost touch with reality. He kills people for no reason anymore. He’s hunted down all his friends in the Company and tried to kill them, one by one. We’ve known this for almost a year now. And the only good thing he’s done since then is kill our brother, Tony. Because Tony was just as certifiable as James.”
“It’s not his fault he was forced to kill people for a living. It’s not his fault the Company turned him into that.”
“Harper,” Vincent whispers. “Listen to me. It is his fault. He was the favorite, Harp. Our parents loved James above everyone. I didn’t grow up in the same house, but I knew who he was. Our father pinned all his Company hopes on James. All he had to do was go to that beach when you turned six and say, Yes, Admiral. I’ll take her. And his life would be mine. And my life would be his. You’d be in love with me right now if he said yes, because I would be the one who went crazy and found you on the beach.”
“But he didn’t say yes. You did.”
Vincent pushes me away and takes a step back. “You’re wrong. I never got asked. I told you, I was the control. I didn’t participate in anything. I was secluded from the Company. I was raised like any other rich American boy. I never killed anyone. I never went on missions. I just existed. I have an impeccable record. A paper trail that can be followed from the time I turned sixteen until now. So when the vetting begins for the multiple political offices I will hold, I appear untouched. Perfect. The perfect man. Raised in the perfect home. Wedded to the perfect woman who has no record at all. Who was raised on a fucking boat in the middle of the ocean. Who never went to school. Who never had her picture taken and plastered all over the society pages. You,” he whispers, “are the perfect blank canvas.”
He gives me that hard stare again and this time it doesn’t make me defiant, it makes me curious. “What do you want from me?”
“I want what I was promised.”
“I never made a promise to you.”
“You think you love him, but you don’t know him. You know me.”
“You’re not the guy I spent time with, Vincent.”
“I’m the guy from your birthday party, Harper. I’m the guy you fell in love with.” He slowly moves his hands up towards my face and cups them around my cheeks. “I deserve the same chance you gave James. That’s all I’m asking for. Be fair, Harper. You don’t know me yet. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want my chance.”