Chapter Sixteen
Harper
I don’t recognize myself when I look in the mirror and it takes me several minutes of self-reflection to decide I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. Of course, that’s hardly self-reflection. Usually when one self-reflects, they come to a conclusion. I don’t seem to be able to come to any conclusions.
I sigh at my image. I’m happy with the way I look. I am a bit on the athletic side. My legs are muscular, but the dress falls all the way to the floor, so they can’t be seen. My arms are a little too defined for a girl. But they are bronzed from the summer sun and the hairs on them are all that bleached shade of yellow that reminds me of Nick. His facial hair is like that.
God, I miss him. Does he know where I am? How will he find me now? My one-year anniversary is pretty much up. In fact, it might even be the same day James promised to come back for me. But I’m here in Santa Barbara and the two most important people in my life will be looking for me in the wrong place.
I shake off the worries. I can’t worry right now. I just need a breath. I just need a break.
I just need to figure out who this girl in the mirror is.
My attention goes to my hair. It’s a little long since I don’t do anything beyond combing it these days.
What am I talking about? I’ve never done anything beyond combing it.
My face has that just-washed pink hue to it from scrubbing. I don’t wear makeup, so I’m not sure if the way I look is acceptable or not.
And then the shoes. I have no idea what to put on my feet, so I put on some soft yellow ballet flats.
Will Vincent like my choice? Do I care if he likes it? Why the fuck am I wondering?
I turn away from the mirror and walk out of the closet. I’m done. It’s a dress. It’s a dinner. I’ve worn hundreds of dresses and attended just as many dinners.
I walk out of the room and make my way to the stairs. He said he’d be outside, so when I reach the bottom I walk around to the back of the house and squint my eyes as I try to find him through the glass doors. It’s no use. The lights are on inside and out there it’s dark. So I can’t see through them.
I walk calmly to the French doors I entered in a little while ago and open them. There is no one on the terrace, but I see a flickering fire a little way past where the helicopter landed.
“Vincent?” I call.
No answer. But I can see a shadow in front of the flames. I could yell and make him acknowledge that it’s him. Or I could just walk down there myself and stop being such a baby.
I have killed fourteen people, so I opt for being a grownup. But every step makes my heart beat erratically.
I’m more than halfway to the fire when he turns and yes, it is Vincent. My heart calms. Why? I’m not sure. This man took me away from everything I know and forced me into a life I neither asked for nor want.
Why am I such a nervous person? How can this stranger make me feel better so easily?
Am I drugged? I don’t feel drugged right now. But pretty much everyone has admitted to drugging me recently. So hey, it’s not an outlandish question. I should stop accepting drinks from these people.
“I love it,” Vincent says as soon as I’m close enough for him to reach out and grab my hand. His eyes slowly track down my slim body and then come to rest on my breasts before he looks back up at my face. “You’re stunning.”
I want to smile with satisfaction for putting myself together properly, or maybe even from the praise and desire I hear in his voice. But I hold it in.
It’s wrong. God, this is all so fucked up. “I think James would’ve liked this dress too.” I say it to be spiteful.
But Vincent doesn’t even blink. “I’m sure he would. As would any man, insane or not.”
A dig. But a small one. Not one worth an argument. I don’t care what Vincent thinks of James. I know James isn’t insane when we’re together, and that’s all that counts.
“Ready to eat?” Vincent asks, after letting me pause to think about his remark.
“Where? I don’t see a table.”
He places his other hand over the small of my back to lead me towards a paved path. “There’s a nice view of the ocean through these trees. I have an area set up down there that overlooks the marina and I thought it would be the perfect place for our first dinner.”
We walk for a little ways in silence and then there’s a break in the trees and sure enough, the moon is shining bright in the night sky, its reflection mirrored on the water below. The marina is small and so are the boats.
“It’s a Company neighborhood, Harper. And the Company owns that marina too.”
I’m not sure if he says it to just FYI me about how things are run around here. Or if he’s cautioning me about trying to run away and ask for help. So I don’t react.
“Here,” Vincent says, pulling out a chair for me at a table set for two. “The servers should be here soon. But we can have a drink while we wait.”
“I don’t drink,” I say as I place the white linen napkin in my lap.
“It’s just a gesture, Harper. I’m sure your father gave you sips of champagne at dinner.”
“Never.”
Vincent sits across from me. The table is small, so he’s close. Too close, I think. Too close for me to keep my distance from the way he’s trying to make me feel. He’s trying his best to make himself irresistible, and I’d like to try my best to resist him. But when I look across the table, I see James. His green eyes. His dark hair. His five o’clock shadow.
“Tonight will be your first, then,” Vincent says, filling my flute with the light honey-colored liquid. It bubbles up, bursting into the air so that even from my seat I can smell the fruitiness of the vintage. He lifts his glass and holds it towards me. I reciprocate the gesture. “To all our firsts. I hope we have a lifetime of them.”
I squint my eyes a little, but he pretends not to notice as he takes a sip. My glass is set back down with no drink.
“I prefer water, thank you. Do we have some water? In a bottle. With a sealed cap.”
“Of course. The servers will bring it with the meal. Now tell me, do you like the dress? Because I like it very much.”
“What do you like about it?” I’m genuinely interested.
“What’s not to like?” he asks back with a chuckle. “The color makes you look like a woodland fairy. It plays against the amber of your eyes, making them look like two shining jewels. It shows off the curve of your shoulders. The bronze of your skin. And while it’s sexy as all fucking hell, you’re showing very little skin. This is a dress I’d take you out in public in. A dress that would allow others to see your beauty without giving them too much of an eyeful. It is, in fact, perfect. Now that you’re wearing it, of course.”
“Wow. That is some line of bullshit you have there, Vincent. James would say, Harper, you’re just as fuckable with no clothes on. But this dress just makes me want to rip it off you.”
Vincent stares at me.
I stare at him. I have to tuck my smile down, but he’s not having any trouble keeping his at bay.
“Do you want me to treat you like James, Harper? Do you want me to fuck your face in a hallway?”
My whole body goes hot with embarrassment. I’d forgotten he said he saw that. “How do you know he did that? Were you stalking me?”
“No,” he growls. “I was watching James, and James was watching you. He had that little scene on tape in his apartment.”
I can’t breathe. That’s how much this stuns me. “He did not.”
“It’s still there now. He never cleaned the place. He’s gone, Harper. He’s lost it. He’s careless and stupid and what he did to you”—Vincent stops to shake his head—“it was sick.”
Sick. The word reverberates around in my head.
Am I sick because I was turned on from it?
I look down at my lap just as the servers appear from the path. There’s a whole crew of them, which is weird since I didn’t see a single soul either time as I walked through the house. They set down platters with covers on them. And the water arrives. A pitcher is placed on a side table, since the table is so small it really can’t fit. They did not bring bottled water.
Two servers lift off our plate covers simultaneously and the rich aroma of lobster and butter fills my nostrils.
God, I’m famished. I practically salivate as I stare at the meal. The server attending Vincent places a bib around his neck, while the one attending me does the same.
When they’re done, Vincent says, “Thank you,” and they leave us alone.
I am hungry and I really do want to eat. But I’m still thinking about James having a video of me in that hallway.
“I’m sorry,” Vincent says. His tone is hushed and the anger is gone. “I shouldn’t have told you about the videos. I’m just tired of hearing about him. When you disappeared last year, Harper, I was lost. I mean, I understand that it’s wrong the way they set us up like that. But I hit the jackpot with you. I wanted you. Want,” he corrects himself. “I want you. And then your father told me I had to wait it out. They were keeping tabs on you, but no one was allowed to go in. I was reluctant. I was crazy with worry. But as the months passed you settled in. Nothing seemed to be happening. It really did appear that you wanted to be alone.”
I look up at him, knowing where this is going.
“But then James showed up and I was livid. That he could walk into your life after I’d given you all that space, and take—” Vincent stops talking. He shakes his head and then he looks down at his food and begins to eat.
“Take what?” I ask.
“Never mind.”
“My virginity?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Your self-respect.”