Tess

My hips slide against Curran as my speed increases. I grip the headboard, my body tightening in that way that releases my screams. Curran’s chest reddens to match his face, the cords in his neck and his arm muscles straining. “Fuck,” he grunts, his release hard enough to make him jolt and clench my hips. “Oh, fuck.”

A few more swear words follow as I fall forward. I slow my motions, allowing him time to finish. When his breaths seem to ease, I push up enough to meet his lips, moaning as I taste him and maybe a little of me. He grins and tugs on my top lip. “Happy graduation,” he murmurs.

I laugh, coughing due to my momentary lack of air. He rolls us on our sides, his fingers skimming the curve of my waist. “You okay?”

“Just a little worn.”

“Because of all our hot gorilla lovin’?”

I laugh, and cough, again. Curran and I went strong most of the night. We managed some sleep, but not a lot. “Did I tell you I’m proud of you?” he asks, his hand lowering to claim my backside.

“You did, but I like hearing it,” I say, taking a moment to enjoy his grin. “Your family was sweet to attend my commencement.” My smile widens, remembering how they cheered for me when my name was announced at the ceremony. My father hadn’t bothered coming. If it weren’t for Curran and his family, I would have accepted my juris doctorate alone.

“Declan would have been there, too,” he says, pressing a kiss along my ear. “He feels bad he missed it.”

My fingers run along his jaw as I speak softly. “He has a lot going on. Defense begins their case tomorrow. After that, it’ll be up to the jury to decide Montenegro’s fate.”

Curran laughs a little. “Yeah. I don’t think those saps stand a chance. The case Deck presented for the prosecution was epic. I knew my brother was good, but I have to admit, he blew me away.”

I know what Curran means and quietly agree. Declan is a renowned prosecutor in the area. But to witness his litigation skills firsthand was positively mesmerizing. His presentation, startling quickness, and skills in court are spectacles to behold. And with the Associated Press and all the major networks covering the trial, he’s receiving national attention.

I adjust my hold over Curran. “Your brother has exceeded everyone’s expectations. But keep in mind that the defense is tough, and the best money can buy. They’re going to fight tooth and nail, especially if those threats against them are valid.”

“I get it, but you have to admit, Deck’s a goddamn gladiator and the courtroom is his arena. Shit, he didn’t show any mercy.”

Curran calls him a gladiator. To me, Declan is more a Titan of Greek mythology. And while the defense may be gods in their own right, this time I’m certain the Titan is going to win the war. “He’s really amazing,” I admit.

“More than me?” he asks, nibbling on my neck.

I laugh. “I confess, professionally I’m deeply in awe of your brother. Personally, you’re who I love, and everything I want.”

“Good.” My body settles against him when he snuggles me closer. “Hey, Tess,” he says, his voice growing serious. “I don’t want you to go back to your place anymore. I want you with me, permanently.”

For the most part, I already am, but his words make everything so official. I’ve been looking forward to letting go of my past and racing into the future with Curran. Yet, as much as I want us to, I’m scared. Everything happening between us is beautiful, and more than I could have dreamed of. But it’s happening so quickly, and bringing on major changes in my life.

My past is horrible. There’s no question. But it’s also familiar, and something so familiar is hard to abandon despite the pain it’s caused.

Curran’s hand skims along my spine when he senses my hesitation. “Tess, you’re done. You graduated. There’s nothing to tie you to your father anymore. Say you’ll be here for good when I get back from my shift.”

“Okay,” I whisper. Although I smile, my eyes manage to sting.

Curran wipes my tears and kisses me, taking his time until he remembers he has someplace to be. “Damnit,” he says when he glances at the clock. “I gotta head out.” He slips out of bed. “Do you need my truck today?”

I hate to ask. “Would you mind? I’m supposed to have lunch with Sofia and Wren, but with Finn’s upcoming match, it might be easier for me to meet them at the gym.”

“Sure. Whatever you want, babe.” He hurries into the bathroom. “Hey. We need to get you your own wheels,” he calls out. “Sofe’s brother is a mechanic, and usually fixes up cars to sell. Mateo can hook us up with something good. I’ll call him during my break and see what he has.”

Curran starts the water for the shower just as I’m rolling out of bed. I spread out the sheets. “Are you sure? I’m worried about costs.”

“Don’t be. I have a couple of bills. It’ll be fine.”

That’s what he claims, but Curran’s covering everything and I need to start pulling my weight. I have interviews set up at a few law firms downtown. My work with Declan has also earned me interviews for the DA positions opening in the fall. In truth, a DA spot is what I want, but the starting salary is minimal compared to those at the more prestigious firms who phoned to schedule interviews. In the end, though, we have a baby coming, and he or she needs to come first.

My thoughts continue to whirl as I drive Curran to the precinct. “What are you thinking, angel face?” he asks.

“That I have a lot to do and little time to do it in.”

He bends to tie his boots. “I was thinking the same thing, but one step at a time, right? Did you call the doc to see if she can get you in sooner?”

“I did, but her schedule is pretty tight. According to the office staff, I’m still scheduled for my first appointment at fifteen weeks unless there’s a problem.”

Curran strokes my cheek. “But there’s no problem, right?”

“I’m assuming not.” I scrunch my nose. “Although I’m starting to feel nauseous in the afternoons. But I suppose it’s all part of being pregnant.”

He seems worried, but as I roll to a stop outside the precinct, his cop face replaces any concerns that remain. “I should be done around seven, okay? If anything changes, I’ll let you know.”

I lean toward him so he can kiss me goodbye. “Okay. Be careful.”

“You, too.”

The warmth and affection behind his kiss linger as I pull away from the curb. The rookie assigned to me easily keeps up.

I work through my to-do list as I drive: grocery shopping, dinner prep, and mailing the résumés I still need to send out. I should head to the store and get the shopping out of the way. Instead, I find myself driving in the direction of my apartment.

Curran is right. In every way possible, it’s time to say goodbye to my past.

An odd sense seems to fill me the closer I draw to my old residence. Maybe it’s the reminder that it was never my home. My father made that clear enough.

I frown as moments of his cruelty play across my mind: his strikes, his words, his sharp tone, and how he made me think I was ugly and worthless. Curran never agreed with him; even back in college when I was unhealthy and frail, he saw something in me that I didn’t know was there.

“We would have hooked up a lot sooner if you’d given me a chance,” he told me the other night.

“Um” had been my only response.

The smile triggered by what Curran said fades. As much as I’m grateful for him, I can’t help feeling ashamed. I should have found the strength without him, and within me, to break from Father’s hold. I don’t want to be the woman some hulking hero needs to rescue—Curran deserves better than that—but it seems that’s exactly what I’ve become.

My foot slams down on the emergency brake after I place his large truck in park. I should be more aware of my surroundings, but it seems I’ve grown too dependent on the guards who shadow me. If I were more focused, I would have seen my father’s car.

And his presence in my apartment wouldn’t surprise me like it does.

The smoke from his cigar swirls into the air from where his hand rests on the couch. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him. According to the evening news, he’s been the driving force behind Spencer’s campaign for mayor. Yet as busy as he’s been, that hasn’t stopped his constant calls to my landline, all of which I’ve ignored. Nor has it likely stopped his uninvited visits. But I’ve been staying with Curran and have thankfully avoided him…until now.

His back is to me, but I hear the slurp he takes from his glass just fine. My eyes skim to the half-empty bottle of scotch on the table beside him. “At last my daughter returns,” he says.

The young police officer who escorted me up turns to me. “Ma’am?” he asks, questioning whether he should throw my father’s ass out.

My first instinct is to return to Curran’s truck, with the rookie close to my side. But my stubbornness and anger hold me in place. “It’s okay,” I tell him.

I’m not sure he thinks it is. He moves ahead, taking his time to sweep the apartment, likely expecting me to change my mind. When he finishes, he stops in front of me, making a point to look at my father. “Anything else, ma’am?”

“No, thank you,” I answer, doing my best to keep my voice steady.

He waits a moment before turning on his heel and leaving. Like the rest of the cops watching me, he knows Curran and I are more than friends. He doesn’t want to answer to him, but he probably also doesn’t think he should stay unless asked.

I wait for the elevator doors to shut behind the young cop before I speak again. “What are you doing here?” I ask my father.

He mashes the tip of his cigar on the saucer to the left of his scotch. “Don’t talk to me that way.” His words are slow and precise, with an underlying warning.

I release my tight grip on the doorknob and force myself forward, fantasies of smashing him over the head with my purse swimming in my mind. “I asked what you’re doing here.”

He stands slowly, taking his time before hitting me with an expression as cold as the blood streaming through his veins. My first instinct is to curl inward. But I don’t. Not this time.

My non-reaction seems to give him pause. It doesn’t last, and of course he’s far from done. He lifts a thick manila folder from the table and tosses it on the floor. It slides across the smooth wood, stopping a few feet in front of me. “See for yourself.”

He expects me to fall at his feet and retrieve like the dog he mistakes me for. I lock my knees in place, refusing to move. “No.”

Father stills, his expression acquiring that of a man seconds from exploding until an unearthly smile cuts across his face. “It’s a bill for two hundred and forty thousand dollars,” he says. “I would think you’d want to see it.”

He laughs without humor as the bottom of my stomach falls to my knees. “What’s wrong, Contessa? Surely you knew the path to becoming an attorney was an expensive one to undertake.”

“You…” I attempt to swallow, but my breaths are coming too quick. “You were supposed to pay it—all of it.”

Father shakes his head thoughtfully. “That’s the impression I left you with, wasn’t it?” His smile vanishes. “Sit down.”

Says the master to his bitch.

“I said, sit,” he repeats when I simply stand there.

My eyes fix on the thick envelope, but I refuse to touch it. “You were supposed to pay this,” I repeat, my voice barely registering.

I turn left, then right, my fingers clutching the front of my tiny tank top and the long skirt fluttering around my ankles. This isn’t a joke, or some twisted lie. This is the ace up his sleeve Curran warned me about. “How?” I demand. “How could I possibly be allowed to attend a prestigious law school without you contributing a single dollar?”

Annoyance ripples across his face. My lack of obedience apparently isn’t part of his plan. “The Newart name goes a long way,” he says. “It pardoned and postponed your financial obligations until your graduation.”

Tears stream down my cheeks. “No. It wasn’t your name—it was your money.” In his scowl I see the truth behind my accusation. I gasp. “Tell me, how much did you donate to the school in order for them to dismiss such a large sum until now?”

He crosses his arms and leans against the back of the couch as if nothing matters, despite the fact that my world is crumbling around me. I have no job, no credit, no money, and in excess of two hundred and forty thousand dollars to atone for.

“Eighty thousand dollars each year,” he responds, his satisfied tone jolting me back to reality. “I donated tuition, books, and room and board to a more deserving soul. Marlon Thomas, a young man from Harlem. Do you know Marlon? He’s quite grateful for my generosity.”

My face crumples into a thousand pieces. In helping this underprivileged young man, my father has assured two things: that I’ll be the one stuck paying the bill, and that he’ll come out a hero.

I have no grounds to fight these costs. None. It’s my name on the juris doctorate, my body that sat through each class, my mind that was expended learning. I’ve accepted everything from him—his insults, his degradation, his mistreatment—I’ve starved because of empty promises he never intended to keep.

“You asshole.”

His expression quavers, before heating with fury. “What did you say to me?”

“I said you’re an asshole!” I stomp forward. “Everyone thinks you’re this righteous and admirable member of the community. But you’re nothing more than a selfish and manipulative bastard.”

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“You’re wrong. Aside from your wife, I’m the only one who knows what a vengeful snake you truly are.” I kick the envelope back at him. “I’ll take the debt—I’ll take all of it. But I’ll be damned if I ever take your shit again.” I storm out the door and punch the elevator button, but when I hear his footsteps racing toward me, I hurry to the back stairwell. My steps are quick, wanting to put as much distance between us as possible. Yet my father won’t let me walk out of his life unscathed.

He snatches my arm before I reach the first step. “Listen to me, Contessa. It doesn’t have to end this way.”

I try to yank my arm away, but he holds tight. “Spencer still needs a reputable partner at his side—listen to me!” he yells, shaking me hard. “He’s to be the next mayor—the next governor. For each event where you’re seen with him, I will pay a portion of your expenses on your behalf.”

“Let go of me!” I scream. “I won’t be your puppet any longer.”

Without thought or care, my father shoves me away. My arms flail as I try to stop myself from falling. But I can’t.

I fall screaming, my body smacking against the steel steps. Agony engulfs me as I land hard on my spine. I don’t know what’s happening. I can’t think. All I know is the pain burning through me.

Excruciating jolts shoot from my pelvis and into my legs. I clutch my belly, crying. “I-I-I need help,” I stammer.

“Tell me you’ll be with Spencer.” Father waits at the top of the steps, his hands balled at his sides. “Contessa, say you’ll do this for me!”

A sob breaks through my lips. “I need help,” I repeat. “Please help me. Please.” Warmth floods my thighs, and every breath rakes my body with misery.

Yet the help I ask for doesn’t come. The slam of the door forces me to glance up. My father is gone.

Once more, I wait alone.

My discarded purse and its contents lie scattered over the first few steps, the remains of my phone in pieces. Somehow, I find my feet.

I stagger down four more flights, clinging to my belly, and falling more than once. The alarms blast as I stumble through the emergency exit. “Jesus Christ!” the rookie yells, racing toward me when I collapse.

He knows I’m hurt. The blood seeping through my white skirt is proof enough that I need the help my father denied me.