9 Years Ago:
“So—”
“I saw.”
I glare past Tyler at the giggling, animated girl in the white top and tiny jean shorts with the killer legs and the long auburn hair. She laughs at something one of the popular girls in her little circle of conversation says and follows it with a big swig of the beer in her hand.
She’s drunk.
She’s out of her element.
She is Anastasia Bell, at her very first Sebastian Crown party.
My graduation party, to be exact. It was Mrs. Tottingham’s idea originally to have one, though I can’t imagine how she didn’t expect it to snowball into the balls-out, music-blasting, alcohol-flowing fuck fest it’s quickly turning into. After all, we’re all about to close one chapter of our gilded, pampered, privileged lives and open a new, even shinier one.
But the loud music I expected. The smell of weed in the air, the shriek of girls splashing topless in my pool, and the alcohol everywhere I expected, even fostered.
What I didn’t expect, was Anastasia, here, at my party. Dressed like that, drinking, and laughing with the popular girls, like this is something she does.
This isn’t her. This is so far out of her element and so far beyond her normalcy. But I don’t have to wonder why she’s here, or why she’s acting like this because I know why.
Stedman.
Motherfucking Josh Stedman, fresh off his first year at UC Berkeley, is at my goddamn graduation party.
…And the fucking guy rolls up with Kendra fucking Wallace.
“You hear about those two?”
Tyler, like he’s reading my thoughts, nods at Josh and Kendra, hand in hand over on one side of the pool catching up with some people and occasionally turning to moon at each other and kiss.
How the hell was I supposed to know Kendra was going to UC Berkeley too? And how the fuck was I supposed to know one afternoon of cheating sex that I fucking paid for would lead to the two of them falling for each other.
They’re engaged now, by the way. Just call me Cupid. Well, evil cupid. Evil cupid with a grudge for a bow, a checkbook for an arrow, a cold little black heart.
“Unbelievable,” Tyler whistles. “Do you think Stedman has any clue how many times Ash fucked that girl in the ass?”
“I sincerely doubt it, Ty. But someone should probably go let him know.”
He grins, turning to me and then raising a brow as he sees the lack of smile on my own face.
“You’re a sick motherfucker, man.”
“I’m just saying, Josh has a right to know.”
Tyler laughs, looking away and drinking his beer. Ana giggles, loudly, and it pulls my eyes back to her.
That’s why she’s here. That’s why she’s very obviously drunk. Because she was sitting on her front steps the day after graduation, alone since her dad is off at some flower fair somewhere, and she watched the guy who ditched her roll up with the girl he ditched her for.
Courtesy of yours truly.
I know this because I watched the whole thing happen from my balcony, like a slow motion car crash.
Ana laughs again, and stumbles, giggling as she somehow rights herself before she falls.
Jesus, this is not good.
“Is she wasted?”
Tyler shrugs. “I gave her a beer.”
I glare at him sideways.
“And a shot.”
My jaw tightens.
“Oh, and Bastian?”
Tyler turns to me, a big, dark grin on his face.
“One more thing.”
His lips curl.
“Get your checkbook ready, buddy.”
Something cold slices through me.
“Because guess who just kissed me.”
I’m on him before I know it, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him up against the wall of the pool house.
He shoves at me, his face furious. “You need to let the fuck go of me,” he growls.
“Not cool,” I snarl back.
“Oh, you not winning isn’t cool? Well, deal with it, fucker.”
“Getting her drunk so you can prey on—”
“Oh fuck off, Crown. That’s not what this is, and you know it.”
I flash my teeth at him, the rage boiling to frenzy behind my eyes.
“Oh, you feeding her booze so you can—”
“Hey, she came to me asshole!”
I freeze.
“She walked up, grabbed the beer out of my hands, took a swig, and kissed me.”
I’m numb. Numb and I hate this feeling, as much as I’m consumed by it.
“The bet’s off.”
He laughs. “Fine, bet’s off. Keep your fucking money, you sore loser. I’m still going to—”
I slam him into the wall and walk away.
…Right to her.
Eight years of confusion.
Eight years of weakness.
Eight years of pushing her as far away from me as I could, because of who she is.
I grab her arm, yanking her away from her little circle of fake, temporary friends.
“Um, hi?”
I want her.
I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to rationalize why, and I don’t want to discuss it with her.
I just want to take her. I just want to crush my lips to hers instead of talking. I want to show, not tell the whirlwind of confusion going through my head. I take a breath instead, coming to a stop by the willow tree, on the outskirts of the party.
Ana shakes her hand free of my grip.
“Jesus Christ, Bastian, what’s your problem?”
“What are you doing?”
She frowns. “Excuse me?”
“Van Der Haus. Really?”
She bristles. “And?”
“No.”
She rolls her eyes, sneering at me.
“You know, whatever your reason is for being hell-bent on me never being happy, I’d love to know it, really.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No? Well, why don’t you tell me, Bastian. Why don’t you tell me why you’re so insistent on being such a bastard to everyone all the time.”
“Not everyone.”
“Just me,” she spits.
I say nothing.
“Why,” she hisses, stepping toward me.
I take a step back.
That’s a new one.
“Why?”
“You don’t want Tyler.”
“You don’t know what I want.”
“Yes, I do.”
She swallows, her eyes going wide as I step right into her. It’s quite possible we’ve never been this physically close before.
“Yes, I do,” I husk into her ear.
Her eyes close as my hands move to her, one sliding up her arm, the other snaking possessively around her waist, pulling her tight.
I’m drowning.
I’m plunging in headfirst.
With her.
My blood is like fire blazing through me, roaring at the scent of her, and the feel of her beneath my fingers. There’s a warm breeze, and the willow tree brushes across both of us.
I don’t think.
I just fucking kiss her.
Hate, lust, fear, excitement, confusion, focus.
Perfection.
It all comes blasting through me like a bomb as I cup her jaw, tilt her head up, and sear my lips to hers. I don’t know if I expect her to hit me, or push me away, or scream, but what I don’t expect is for her to open her mouth.
I don’t expect her to moan.
I grab her harder, pouring eight years of fire and fear and everything into that kiss. Tongues meet, lips bruise, hands grasp. Eight years of pretending neither of us wanted anything to do with each other detonates like an explosion, consuming us both.
And maybe this is all we wanted. Maybe it’s nothing more than a physical lust that’s driven this war of wills between us. Maybe it’s just pent up sexual aggression - both of us wanting the one we hate.
Whatever it is though, at that moment, I don’t fucking care.
Ana pulls away, her cheeks red, her eyes blazing.
Her lips bruised.
“I—”
“You don’t want Tyler Van Der Haus.”
“And what do I want,” she breathes.
“This.”
I take her hand in mine, turn, and pull her toward the boathouse, and the dock, and the boat beyond.
I’d say I don’t know it yet, but that’s not true because I think I know full well that night that we’re walking to the abyss.
I know we’re about to step off the cliff before our feet hit the dead air.
This is the beginning of the end.
This is the night I break her.
* * *
Present:
Ladies and gentlemen, my room is clean.
Call the fucking press. Alert the media.
Okay, not clean like something out of a fucking Pottery Barn catalog, but it’s not an imminent threat for biological warfare either, so it’s a start. Hell, I even changed my sheets and made my damn bed.
Why? Because tonight deserves a fresh start and a clean beginning. Because tonight, I’m telling her, as soon as she gets back from dropping her dad off at the airport.
I don’t know how much I’m telling her, but something tells me once I start, I’m not going to be able to stop. I could lie and say I’ve put a ton of thought into this and planned out how exactly I’m going to tell her what a manipulative bastard I’ve been over the years without her hating me. But the truth is, I have no idea. No plan.
No goddamn agenda, for once.
But fuck it. It’s been way too long, and I’m fucking tired of pulling the strings from the shadows. There’ll be no more pulling strings at all, actually. This time, for the first time, it’s going to be me, her, and the truth, all in one damn place.
And that’s a terrifying fucking thought.
I’m on my balcony, the doors to my room open behind me in the cool late summer night as I sip on my drink. I’m pacing myself - that’s something new too. This isn’t fucking high school, and I don’t need to drink myself into a dark haze to forget she’s living one hundred feet away, or out with Josh Stedman. This isn’t college, where I’m drinking and fucking my way through half of Boston to forget she’s in New York falling in love with the city, her passion, and probably, someone else.
Basically, it’s not every damn day she hasn’t been mine.
I open my hand and let the pendant drop. The chain catches on my fingers, and the little silver cowboy boot catches and dances in the moonlight.
It’s probably time to give this back, too. It belongs with her, not perpetually on my nightstand or in my breast pocket, where it’s been the last five years.
No more bullshit. It’s time to close the chapter on my obsession with pushing her and meddling with her life.
No more pushing.
This time, I’m taking.
Headlights flash crazily through the trees, the sound of an engine roaring up the driveway suddenly shatters the silence of the night. I frown as Ana’s truck comes flying up to the house, skidding to a stop as the engine cranks off. The door flies open and slams shut, and I watch her storm her way around to the side door by the kitchen.
I can hear it slam shut from here.
Interesting.
I stand, curious and guarded as I step back into my quarters and head for the door, but she beats me to it. The pounding rocks through the room like thunder.
“Bastian!”
A cold feeling sinks through my gut at the anguish in her voice.
Hank.
The first thought is that something’s happened to her dad at the airport. I slam my drink and the pendant down on my table and lunge for the big wood door, yanking it open.
“What happ—”
The fury and frenzy and broken anguish of her hit me like a hurricane crashing into a shore. Ana barges past me and storms into the room, making it almost to the table before she turns, fire and wrath clouding her face.
“You.”
It’s a single word, but I can feel the edge of it cutting through me the second it leaves her lips.
She knows.
I don’t know how, but it’s written in the rage and streaks of tears across her cheeks.
She knows.
“Ana—”
“STOP.”
Her voice is like shattered ice as she holds a hand out. Her eyes burn into mine as she slowly shakes her head at me.
“Josh Stedman.”
She’s shaking as she says the name, trembling with rage, and I can feel every muscle in my body tensing.
Fuck.
She fumbles next to her for my drink, snatching it off the table and slugging the rest of it back.
She closes her eyes, her lips forming a tight little “o” shape as she breathes.
“Sit down,” I growl, stepping towards her. “Look, sit, and let me—”
“Get away from me!” she screams, brandishing the crystal tumbler in front of her and snarling as she steps toward me.
“I’m going to ask you this one time.”
She swallows, her eyes wild and darting side to side, like she’s afraid of what’s going to happen once she does ask me.
She should be, because whatever she thinks she knows?
It’s probably half of what the truth actually is.
“What’s on your mind, Texas,” I say quietly, watching her eyes flare.
She shakes her head, her eyes looking everywhere but at me until they finally land right on my face.
“Why did Josh cheat on me with Kendra.”
She already knows.
It was obvious before, the tone of her voice cements that. I don’t know how, and frankly, in that moment, I don’t care how. I just care that of all the times I’ve orchestrated her broken heart from a distance, I’ve never had to watch it.
This time, I have a front row seat.
“Look—”
“ANSWER ME!” She whirls and hurls the crystal tumbler across the room where it explodes against the wall.
Silence drapes the room, and I look her right in the eye as I pull back the trigger.
“Because I paid him to.”
Boom.
She recoils like I’ve just physically hit her. Her head shakes side to side, her hands sliding into her hair and pulling it tight back from her face.
“No,” she whispers like she’s trying to convince herself this can’t possibly be real. “Please tell me you’re—”
“I. Paid. Him.”
I don’t blink.
I don’t look away.
I don’t shrug.
“I paid Josh to walk away from you. I paid her too, actually.”
“You—” She swallows, shaking her head and backing away from me. “You’re a fucking monster.”
“You didn’t want Josh Stedman, Ana.”
“Yes, I did.”
“No, you didn’t.”
She barks out a fragile, broken laugh, her eyes flashing nothing but contempt at me.
“I’m curious,” she snaps, fury and contempt dripping from her words. “Was it me not wanting Josh or you not wanting me to be with Josh.”
“Both,” I growl.
She shakes her head, backing away from me.
“I need to go—” She freezes, her eyes locking onto the table in the middle of the room. The necklace glints in the low light.
And now she’s really going to bleed.
There’s one frozen second - one second before she turns back to me, where it’s like everything goes still. I see her in profile, her face in that still position between curiosity and knowledge - that brief second before the realization dawns on her. It’s the frozen second before the crimes of my past break her utterly and completely. The one single second where there’s still a flicker of something good in her heart where it comes to her and I.
Time unfreezes, her look turns to stone, and she turns, the necklace in her hand.
That last little flicker snuffs out.
“Where did you get this,” she whispers.
“You know where.”
My voice feels like it’s coming from outside my body, but I don’t shy away from this. I don’t turn, I don’t block it. I don’t lie, or make up some bullshit.
I let the knife sink in deep.
“Where,” she croaks.
“Garret Moreland’s apartment.”
I watch as the last piece suddenly clicks into place behind her eyes.
I watch as her heart rips in front of me.
Ana’s head slowly shakes side to side, her lips moving but no words forming.
“Garett was cheap, actually. There wasn’t even a negotiation.”
My voice slices through the air between us, and she flinches as the words come.
“Jason put up a little more of a fight, but—”
“Please stop talking.”
I don’t. She needs to hear this.
“Chris was the real holdout.”
“Stop it.”
A single tear slides down her cheek, her shoulders slumped as she shakes her head.
“Please stop it.”
I can’t.
“For what it’s worth, Chris fought it the hardest.”
“Goddamnit, stop talk—”
“But he took the money,” I hiss, stepping toward her, my eyes blazing. “They all took the money, Ana. They all took the deal. Every fucking one of them—”
“You paid men to leave me!”
She screams it, her eyes dragging like razorblades up to mine.
I freeze.
This is what she looks like when her heart breaks.
I’ve meddled, I’ve pulled strings, I’ve fucked with her life more than she ever knew, and saw more than she can ever imagine. And yet this is the part I never had to see.
This is the aftermath of me.
“Ana—”
“No, stop.” She’s crying now, tears pouring down her cheeks, and something breaks inside of me.
“What is wrong with you?”
Her voice is like broken glass. She doesn’t even look mad anymore, she just looks empty.
Crushed.
Broken.
“Is it a power thing? You just like being able to step all over my puny little life because you can?”
I’m silent.
“WHY, Bastian!” she screams, choking on her tears.
“You know why.”
“ANSWER ME!”
“Because you didn’t want them!” I roar.
She blinks, staring at me like she’s horrified.
“I didn’t want them, or you didn’t want me to want them.”
“Both. I know you didn’t want—”
“You don’t know what I want!”
“Yes, I do.”
I grab her, and I kiss her.
I kiss her with everything I have - every single piece of me that makes me me. The fury, the hate, the love, the lust, the confusion, and the pain. I kiss her like I should have kissed her years ago. Not out of some sort of jealousy. Not because I felt like I had to in order to get her.
Because in the end, there was only ever her.
It lasts all of three seconds before she pulls away and slaps me hard across the mouth.
I growl as she backs away, shaking her head and wiping her tears on the back of her hand, smudging her eyeliner.
“We’re done here,” she says coldly.
“Excuse me.”
“We are done here,” she spits out. “All of it, Bastian. The arrangement, this bullshit with your inheritance that I could not give a single shit about. You, me?”
She backs away from me.
“Over, done. Go find some other girl to fake all this for you, because I’m done.”
“Goddamnit, Ana,” I growl, my voice like gravel as I go to move toward her. “Do not walk out that—”
“Or what, Bastian?” She laughs, bitterly, the streaks from her tears staining her face.
“What could you possibly still have left up your sleeves, huh? You paid men to break up with me. To leave me. To cheat on me.”
“Listen to me.”
“Shut up,” she hisses. “You played games with my life. You even faked threatening to fire my dad and got me to walk out of the most important meeting of my career to come here. And for what, so you could fuck with my life some more?”
She narrows her eyes at me.
“Do you even know Tom Westing from Luminous?”
“No.”
She laughs, bitterly as she shoves me aside and strides for the door.
“Have a nice life, Bast—”She stops, something catching her eyes in the corner of the room.
“Are those…” She steps toward the little grow box with the last of my mother’s Ophelia roses, quickly fading.
“These are your mom’s.”
“Stay away from that,” I choke out.
She glances back at me, smiling thinly.
“Looks like everything dies and turns to shit around you, doesn’t it?”
“Get the fuck out.”
“With pleasure,” she hisses, turning sharply and storming for the door.
“Get the fuck out!” I roar, crumbling inside - shoving her away because maybe shoving her away will hurt less than letting her slip from my fingers.
She turns once at the door to my room, her eyes piercing right into me and right through me, tattooing that look across my memory.
“Have a nice life, Bastian.”
The door slams shut behind her.
…The storm breaks.
The table cracks in half as I flip it over and send it slamming into the wall. Shelves are cleared, side-tables are upended. A hole appears in one wall where my fist slams through it. It’s like I have to prove to myself that I am every bit the monster she knows I am, and I don’t stop until the place is destroyed.
Shattered.
Broken.
Some time later, how long I don’t even know, I stagger out to my balcony, bottle in hand.
Her truck is gone.
I close my eyes, and I’m about to pull the bottle to my lips when my phone rings back inside. I let it, ignoring the sound as I take a long, deep pull from the bottle. But the fucking thing just keeps ringing, again and again. I snarl, storming back inside and shuffling through the debris of my life as it just keeps fucking ringing.
I finally find it under what was a shelf of books.
“What,” I snarl. “Whoever the fuck this is, you’d better—”
I freeze, almost dropping the phone as I drop to my knees.
Dylan Forbes is awake.