Cutting a deal with Cowan means selling a part of my soul, but it’s the only way I see out. It’s the only way I can get rid of my baggage. If I don’t accept the terms, I’ll keep on sinking under, deeper, dragging everyone I love with me to the murky depths of my future. If I go to jail, there’ll be no one to take care of Sam and watch over my mom. Cowan won’t stop harassing Jane until she confesses the truth. This is why I’m sitting in Monkey’s lounge on Sunday afternoon, wearing a wire. This is why I don’t have a choice but to play along, making a commitment I don’t mean.

Lindy is sitting next to me on the sofa, her hands folded between her knees and her back stiff. She’s pissed off with me, but that’s the least of my concerns. Sweat trickles between my shoulder blades when I think of what’ll happen if Monkey discovers I’m ratting on him. He’ll make sure I suffer, chopping me to pieces, starting with my fingers and toes, but it’s not me I’m worried about. It’s Sam and my mom.

There’s an awkward silence in the room with Monkey glaring at me and Lindy giving me the silent treatment. It’s definitely not your usual engagement celebration. Ingrid, Lindy’s mom, flitters into the room with a tray of champagne glasses. I get up to take it from her.

“Thank you, Brian.” She beams. “You can put it on the table. Monkey, why don’t you pour?”

Monkey grunts but gets up to loosen the cork on the champagne chilling in the ice bucket. The cork comes free with a loud pop, going straight up and bouncing from the ceiling. The champagne boils over before he can aim the bottle at a glass.

“Well, then,” Ingrid rubs her hands together, “shall we make a toast?”

Poor woman. She’s trying hard to make this into what it’s supposed to be, but an ostrich can never be an eagle, no matter how hard he pretends he can fly.

She lifts her glass. “To the love birds.”

Monkey gulps down half of his glass and belches. “Did you get the ring?”

My voice lacks enthusiasm. “Lindy can pick whatever she likes.”

Lindy gives me a dirty look.

“A practical young man,” Ingrid says, obviously trying to cover up that there’s no love lost from my side. “We’ll go shopping this weekend. Won’t that be fun, Lindy?”

With a future father-in-law like Monkey, I don’t have to worry about giving the women a budget limit. Monkey will pay for whatever his daughter wants. I don’t give a shit that the ring she’ll wear on her finger won’t be bought with money I earned. No pride lost there, either.

“Lunch is almost ready,” Ingrid says. “I’m sorry your mother can’t be here, Brian.” Her face pales a little as she realizes what she’s said. Hastily, she adds, “What about Sam? Why didn’t she come?”

“She’s still not comfortable with her new look. The short hair is a bit of a sore point.”

“Simply awful what those girls did.”

I fume a little. Ingrid means well, but Sam’s not her business. Of course, the whole school knows about what happened, which means the whole neighborhood knows, too.

“We need to discuss the engagement party,” Ingrid says in an over-enthusiastic tone.

I wish she’d stop trying to make up for what everyone else is lacking. It’s only making the atmosphere worse. As she dives into the color scheme and catering, I tune out of the conversation. My mind drifts to Jane. Everyone in Harryville knows about the accident. News spreads fast. Monkey didn’t take it kindly. It doesn’t look good for his daughter that I had my lover handcuffed in a bunker. Every time I think about Jane, it’s as if my heart goes through a mincer. How she must hate me. My only defense is to push the thoughts away and repeat the mantra I have on replay in my head since the accident–she’s better off without me. It doesn’t change how I feel, though. I’m never going to stop loving her.

The meal is an ordeal. My companions’ eating noises put my disorder to the ultimate test. I have to dig my nails into my palms to endure it. Lindy’s eyes rest accusingly on my champagne, which I haven’t touched. After dessert has finally been served, Monkey and I retire to his study for cognac and cigars while Lindy and Ingrid clear the table.

It’s business time. It’s the moment I’ve been waiting for and dreaded. He goes into a long explanation of what he expects from me. In one year’s time, the minute Lindy and I are married, I’m to leave my job and get involved in the business. I ask enough questions about the illegal side of his business to feign interest without seeming over-eager for information. It’s like balancing on a tightrope. My shirt is drenched in sweat by the time we’re done, but thankfully it’s a hot day, and I can blame the weather. At least Cowan will have some of the information he needs to start the process of putting an end to Monkey’s dealings.

“We better get back to the women,” Monkey says. “Ingrid will have coffee ready.” At the door, he grips my shoulder. “I hope you’re going to make a better performance at the engagement party. I’m being lenient with you today, seeing what happened with Sam and that woman you had chained up in your basement for whatever sinister reasons. I won’t be lenient when my daughter faces a hall full of people. Understood?” He slaps my shoulder and without waiting for a reply says, “Good. I’m glad that’s settled. One more lukewarm show and I cut off your left nut. Once you’ve given us grandchildren, I’ll cut off the right one, too.”

Dorothy holds my hand as we enter the doctor’s office. We take the only two seats. Benjamin takes a stiff stance to the left. The atmosphere is fragile, like glass. The tension is unbearable. My ribcage tightens. It’s been a week since I’m out of the hospital, but I still get these sensations that I can’t breathe. I wake up in a cold sweat at night, dragging ragged breaths into my lungs. It’s as if the air burns me when it finally fills my body. The familiar fire starts spreading through my chest as my throat clogs up. I close my eyes and practice what I’ve been doing for the last seven days, simply pulling in the next breath, and the next, until the sensation of suffocating passes.

“We have the results,” the doctor says needlessly.

That’s why we’re here. Why I’m here is for Abby. She’s outside in the garden with Francois and Debbie, waiting. We agreed it was best if she’s not in the room when the doctor shares the result. He looks between us, locking eyes with each person before dipping his gaze down at the report in his hands.

“Ready?” the doctor asks.

I’ll never be ready for this. The repercussions of Benjamin being Abby’s father are huge. What if Abby wants to get to know her real father? Benjamin will never agree. He has too much to lose. I don’t want my baby girl to be hurt more than she already has.

Dorothy’s fingers squeeze around mine as the doctor opens his mouth.

“It’s not Mr. James.”

Not Benjamin. His shoulders go slack, as if the air has left his chest.

Dorothy sucks in a breath. Her voice trembles with tears. “Oh, my God.”

Abby is Evan’s. Evan and I made a baby. Thank you, dear God. I close my eyes, letting relief break and put me back together inside. On the outside, I keep it together. It’s Dorothy who cries softly, but they’re tears of joy. She has something left of her dead son, after all. Evan didn’t leave us completely alone.

The doctor shuffles the papers into a file and pushes it over the desk. “If you’ll excuse me.” He gets to his feet, our cue to leave.

I’m glad for his clinical attitude. It makes the situation easier to handle. Dorothy, Benjamin, and I pause in the empty reception area. The atmosphere is awkward. There are no social polite or small talk for circumstances like these I can fall back onto. I give up wracking my brain for something suitable to say and simply go for what needs to be done.

“I’d like to tell Abby alone.”

“Of course,” Dorothy says. “The two of you have a lot to talk about.” Dorothy looks at Benjamin. “Shall we go?”

“I’ll catch up.”

Dorothy gives an uncertain nod, but she exits the room, leaving me alone with Benjamin. I both appreciate and dread the opportunity. The questions bottle up inside me. Neither of us speaks, and then we talk simultaneously.

“Did you–?”

“Thank you–”

“Sorry.”

“No, please continue.”

“You go first,” I say.

He wets his lips. “Thank you for not going public with this.”

“That wasn’t the objective.”

“I know you did it for Abby, but you could’ve easily gotten back at me by telling the truth.”

“I would’ve if you were her father.”

“Then that’s another reason to be glad I’m not.”

“Since we’re being so brutally honest, if I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?”

“I owe you at least that much for your discretion.”

“Did you offer Brian money to seduce me?”

“Yes,” he says solemnly.

I didn’t think it could hurt worse, but at the verbal admittance my world splinters a little more. A few more cracks, and I’ll never be able to glue it back together.

“I did offer him money,” he continues, “but he didn’t accept it.”

It takes a while for the meaning of his words to settle. Brian didn’t take the money. They’re a balm on my cut-open heart, but they can’t fill the fissures. They can’t patch up the mistrust that works both ways. It doesn’t change why Brian ended up in my pool on a hot summer’s night. Brian lied to me from the start. As for my wrongs, I believed he destroyed my trust, when in reality I didn’t trust him enough. When it mattered, I was ready to believe the worst of him. I didn’t want to listen to what Brian had to say in his cellar that day, because then I would’ve had to forgive him, and I’m not ready to forgive him. Forgiveness hurts too much. Forgiveness means making myself more vulnerable than I already am. Forgiveness will be the proof that my love for Brian is bigger than everything else, that he’ll always hold the power to hurt and destroy me, and that my feelings render me at his mercy.

“If Brian didn’t supply you with the photos, who did?”

“When Brian declined my offer, I paid someone to break into your house and install the camera in your bedroom.”

“How did he get in? Brian installed an alarm.”

“It was before Brian installed it. It wasn’t difficult. He picked the lock on the sliding door to the deck.”

“Why did you lie about it? Why did you tell your mother and me it was Brian?”

An air of despondency settles over him. “The truth? I don’t know, Jane.”

“You don’t know?” He ruined my life–twice–and he doesn’t know?

“I suppose I was angry. Brian was to ruin you, not fall in love with you.”

“Why? What have I ever done to you?”

“What have you done to me? You fell in love with my brother when I brought you home. I brought you home to meet my parents. I brought you home for me. You were supposed to be with me, Jane. Me. Evan had no right to steal you away.”

“This is still about Evan? My God, Ben. He’s been dead for years. Does it ever occur to you the one who got done in was me? You drugged and raped me. How demented must you be to still want to hurt me?”

“What can I say? Old vengeances die hard.”

“We were never more than friends. I never gave you false hope.”

He utters a wry laugh. “You hurt me, and you don’t even know how much. You don’t even know how much I suffered. You’ll never know. I only wanted to give Evan a taste of what I was going through.”

“You’ve done your worst. I hope you can live with yourself.”

He stares at me for a moment. “You don’t want to know what I’m living with. Not really.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

“Will I have to keep on looking over my shoulder, worrying about the tabloids?”

“No. You have my word.”

“How can I be sure you won’t change your mind?”

“I don’t want a scandal for Abby. She’s suffered enough. What’s done is done. It’s over. In the past.”

“At least that’s one thing we agree on. Neither of us needs a scandal.”

I hesitate. I still have so many questions, but dare I delve deeper than what I already have? Can I handle the truth? Finally, my need to know wins out. “How did you meet Brian?”

“By fluke. I was having lunch between rehearsals at the restaurant opposite the theater when he walked in. From the attention he got, I thought he was a good candidate, plus I could see from his clothes he needed the money.”

I want to own every piece of the pain. I don’t want to be spared anything. That’s why I need to ask. “Did he decline your offer immediately or did he…?” My voice drops an octave. I have to clear my throat to get the question out. “Did he consider it?”

“I could see he was thinking about it, but he didn’t want to bite. I gave him a photo of you and my email address, but not my name. I told him to think about it. A few days later, he contacted and threatened me. He’d figured out who I was.”

“He threatened you?”

He chuckles. “He said he’d cut off my fingers or something in that regard if I came near you.”

That sounds like the possessive, protective Brian I’ve come to think of as mine. I reject the thought. I’m too raw to think about the future, yet, or where these facts leave us. I haven’t heard from Brian since the accident. I owe him an apology for not giving him the benefit of the doubt. I owe him that chance to talk about what has nearly destroyed me, but are his feelings even the same? Does he still love me? Did he ever love me? If he does, why hasn’t he come to see me in the hospital? Why hasn’t he called, even if just to ask how I was doing? I can’t bear to think of the answer. For now, I prefer to focus on the easier subject of logistics.

“I haven’t told Francois about the camera,” I say. “You need to have it removed.”

“That will be hard to do without explaining why my guy needs access to his house. On top of that, the alarm is back on. You don’t have to worry. I swear on Evan’s grave, I won’t access it.”

“That’s not good enough.”

He sighs. “Fine. I’ll find a way. My contact can say he’s from Rentokil, and that he’s checking for rats because the neighbors have an infestation.”

“I want proof that it’s been removed.”

“Stalking isn’t in my nature. I said I’ll have it taken out, and I will.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“All right, I deserve that.”

“You have a week. I’ll inspect that hole personally, and if the camera is still there, I’m telling Francois.”

It won’t be difficult to find a moment to check their bedroom when I drop off Abby. I can say I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be in and out of the room before they know it. I’ll have to be careful, though. Debbie asked me what I was looking for on the day I stormed into their house. I crossed my fingers behind my back and said I was checking if the maintenance guy had painted over the grid after fixing the air vent fan.

“Fair enough,” he says after a short consideration.

I have nothing left to say. “Goodbye, Benjamin.”

I’m three steps away when he says to my back, “I’m sorry, Jane.”

It’s late, but it’s something. If I can start working on this first step of forgiveness, maybe I’ll get there in the end. I don’t want a life of blame and vengeance. What I yearn for most is peace.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he says, “I’ve been living with Evan’s death on my conscience for every minute of every day.”

I glance at him from over my shoulder. “It doesn’t make me feel better.”

“The guilt never eases. It’s only bearable when I pretend it’s not there.”

I can’t tell Benjamin how to slay his ghosts. He’ll have to make his own peace.

“What now, Jane?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you won’t talk to the tabloids. Are you going to the police?”

“No.”

We all paid a terrible price for Benjamin’s sins. I’m not going to allow those sins to haunt me more than they already have. Besides, if I go to the police the news is bound to end up in the tabloids. It’s not what I want for Abby.

“Then we’re done?” he asks, hopeful.

I can’t look back at him. He’s already a part of my past. “I’m done.”

When I walk through the door, it’s as if a weight lifts off my shoulders.

Dorothy waits outside, looking pale.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“I’m battling to digest the news. Oh, my God, I have another grandchild. Evan’s grandchild.”

“I know. Abby loves you. She’ll be happy.” I’m happy.

“This is the biggest gift. Oh, Jane, can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

“If I hadn’t asked you to lie, you would’ve taken the paternity test sooner. We would’ve known this thirteen years ago.”

“We know now. It’s enough.”

We stop talking when Benjamin exits.

“I’ll wait for you in the car,” he says to Dorothy.

“He’s going back to Venice on Monday,” she says when he’s gone. “He cancelled the rest of his performances.”

For the first time in my life, I don’t care where Benjamin will be. I’m no longer worried about running into him on the street or looking into a pair of black eyes that will force me to face the past.

She holds me back before we reach the garden access. “What about you, Jane?”

“What about me?”

“When are you going to talk to Brian?”

I can’t answer, because I don’t have the answer. How much time is enough?

“He’s been at the hospital,” she says. “I saw him when I came back in the evening. The nurse said he’d been sitting in front of your door through the night. He still cares about you.”

This is news to me, and I’m not immune to the hope it carries.

“I know you don’t want to talk about him, but there are things you should know. If it’s any consolation, on the afternoon of the accident Brian was stuck in the Hartebeespoort Tunnel on the way to pick up Sam. He asked me to fetch her from her friend’s house so he could go back for you. When I ran into him in the hospital, he said he left his truck in the tunnel and paid some random biker ten grand to borrow his bike. He did everything in his power to get to you on time.”

“Dorothy, please stop.”

I don’t want to think about that afternoon, but she’s relentless.

“He wouldn’t have left you like that if it weren’t for what happened to Sam.”

“What happened to Sam? Was she all right?”

“Some girls from school ruined her party clothes by dumping a bucket of paint over her. The clothes were unsalvageable, and the poor girl had to cut her hair. The hairdresser tried, but she couldn’t get the paint out.”

“Oh, my God.” Poor Sam. “If I ever get my hands on those girls, they’ll be sorry they ever thought up the evil plan.”

“Don’t worry.” She gives me her signature smile. “I suggested they all cut their hair to show Sam how sorry they are.”

“Did they?”

“The lot of them.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I’m happier.” Her expression turns serious. “I’m happier now that I have a part of Evan back.” She grabs my arm. “I want you to be happy, too. You deserve it more than anyone I know.”

“I will be. I just need time.”

“Speak to Brian,” she calls after me as I walk through the door. “He deserves another chance.”

I drown out her words. I’m too focused on Abby’s tense face as she stands between Francois and Debbie. The locket catches the sun, reflecting the late afternoon rays. It’s then that I know what I have to do.

The news hits me like a bulldozer. I feel sick. Dorothy regards me with sympathy from across the newspaper on my kitchen table. Just to punish myself, I read the announcement again. Brian and Lindy got engaged the day after I was discharged from the hospital. Forty-eight hours. That’s how long he waited, and that was after he promised me there was nothing between him and Lindy. I should’ve known better. Why would a young, drop-dead gorgeous, sex-savage guy be single? Why would Brian be interested in someone old enough to be his mother? Of course, he had a young and pretty girlfriend. You don’t simply get engaged from one day to the next. Despite my humiliation and self-directed anger, I feel genuinely sorry for Lindy. No wonder she projected invisible daggers at me at Eugene’s birthday party. Humiliation and anger I can deal with. The devastation I push onto the backburner. I have no right to feel pain. Pain warrants sympathy, and I deserve none, not when I’ve been stupid, naïve, and blind.

I fold the newspaper neatly so that the announcement is hidden on the inside.

“Did you read the part about the party?” Dorothy asks softly.

Two-hundred people at the Irene Country Club. This coming Saturday. Every word is imprinted in my mind, but I only say, “Mm.”

I was there with Brian. He allowed me to make a fool of myself. Brian, Eugene, Clive, and Lindy, they all deceived me. Why did he parade me around at Playback? Were they all in on the joke? Dusty lifts his head from his basket and whines, as if he feels my pain.

Dorothy clicks her tongue. “I’m sorry you had to find out like that.”

Dragging my fingers through my hair, I hold my head between my hands. “How could I not see it?”

“Love is blind.”

“Don’t rub clichés in my face.” Or more rightly, don’t rub my love in my face. It only makes it worse.

“When I saw this, I couldn’t not tell you.”

“You did the right thing.”

“I believed him when he said he loved you.”

I give a wry chuckle. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. So did I. He’s good, I have to give him that.”

“Yet,” she gives me a piercing look, “there was something.”

I push away from the table. “Tea?” I need to keep busy before I crumple into a ball. That something was all I held onto, and now that there’s nothing, I have to face that the most profound love of my life was meaningless. A farce.

Before she can answer, Abby skips into the room.

“Oh, hi, Dorothy. I didn’t know you were here.”

“You can call my grandma if you like,” Dorothy half-teases.

I smile to myself. She’d really like that.

“It’ll feel weird,” Abby says.

Dorothy brushes an imaginary hair from Abby’s shoulder. “I’m just joking with you. It’s still such a novelty to me.”

“You must have guessed,” Abby says in the honest way children do.

Dorothy gives me a guilty look. “It was easier not to think or wonder about it.” She waves a hand, as if wanting to wipe the past away. “I’m glad it’s official, now.”

Dorothy and Abby have always gotten on well. Not much is going to change in terms of their relationship, except for that official stamp Dorothy mentioned.

“Are you hungry?” I ask Abby.

“I was looking for you to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

Abby glances at Dorothy. “It can wait.”

“Don’t mind me,” Dorothy says, “I was just leaving.”

She gives Abby a kiss on the cheek and hugs me. “Call me if you need to talk.”

I show Dorothy to the door and go back to the kitchen to see what Abby wants to talk about.

“I was thinking…” Abby flops down on the chair and fiddles with the frayed ends of her shorts.

“Go on,” I encourage.

“Will you mind very much if I…”

“Abby, it’s all right. Just say it.”

She takes a deep breath. “I want to stay with Debs and Dad, if that’s okay with you.”

To let her choose is a decision I made when I told her who her biological father is. The photos she carries inside her locket already gave me an inkling as to what her answer would be, but the request still knocks my world off its axis.

She’s babbling, her words tumbling from her lips too fast. “I want to be there for the baby, when he’s born, and my friends live around there. It’s not that I don’t love you, and if you need me–”

“Honey, it’s fine.” Logically, I understand her decision. Inside, I’m shriveling like a dying plant.

Her voice is hopeful. “Really?”

“Of course. You can spend weekends with me, and holidays, and come back to live with me whenever you want.”

“Thanks,” she whispers. “I’m glad you understand.”

I open my arms. “Come here.” I hug her against me. “You’ll always be my baby girl. Never forget that.”

She smiles against my chest and pulls away too fast. I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll ever be, but this is a crucial part of being a parent. It’s a crucial part of love. It’s knowing when to let go.

Of course, Jane removed each and every camera I’ve installed. The whole security system is gone. I don’t have access to her any longer, not even remotely. The fact that she’s so unprotected burns a hole in my stomach. I have a good mind to drive over there and install the whole nine yards again, but my pushiness is what got us into this mess for starters. My pushiness is what almost got her killed. I paid a hacker to get me the medical report. I couldn’t go on until I knew she’d be all right. The near drowning did some serious damage. Technically, she died twice. Twice. Once alone, abandoned and cuffed in freezing cold water, and once in my arms. I resuscitated her the first time and the paramedics the second. Just thinking about it makes me shake all over again. It makes bile rise in my throat. It makes me break out in cold sweat and puke my guts out, time and again, but I can’t stop reliving it.

According to the checkup report, Jane is physically all right, but I don’t know how she’s doing emotionally, and it’s driving me insane. I called Dorothy, but she won’t tell me shit. What makes it worse, is I can’t go near Jane. I set her free, cut her loose from the destruction I brought, but I can’t even check on her, not while I’m in this volatile mess with Monkey and having to make my engagement to Lindy look authentic. I’ve got to make it appear as the real deal, not only for Monkey’s sake, lest I want him to cut off my nuts and feed my body finger by finger through a mincer, but also for Cowan. This is the cover I need to infiltrate Monkey’s organization as Cowan’s rat. I’ve got my work cut out for me. I never thought I’d be a rat, but if that’s what it takes to protect my family, keep out of jail, and get out of Monkey’s blackmailing claws, that’s what I’ll do. No matter which way I look at it, I don’t have another choice.

For now I dance to Monkey’s tune, starting with moving into a spare bedroom in their house. He says he wants me close to teach me the business, but it’s to keep an eye on me, which makes ratting all the more difficult. I’m a walking mess, worried that he’ll discover the wire and not only kill me, but also torture my mother and sister to death. Cowan promised me Sam and my mom will have protection if anything happens to me, but he knows as well as I do, the whole police force isn’t enough protection against Monkey and his goons. He’s too powerful. I won’t rest peacefully in my grave until that fucker is locked away for good.

The living situation complicates matters. I’m not there for Sam and my mom at night. I can only check on them during the day. I refuse to let one of Monkey’s guards sleep over. I don’t trust any of them. Lindy has already pointed out she’s not willing to let my mother move into the big joke of a castle Monkey is having built for us on the highest part of the mountain that divides Waverley and Pretoria North. It’s a wedding gift. So much for family love where my future wife is concerned. Anyway, my mother couldn’t leave our old house even if she wanted. I already knew what I had to do on the day Jane almost died. On the day she clinically did die. It had nothing to do with my future living arrangements and everything with my mother’s physical and mental health. What happened with Jane made me realize we couldn’t carry on like this, which is why I booked Jasmine into a fancy institution that deals with cases like hers. She resisted. It wasn’t easy to convince her, but she eventually agreed when I threatened to have her declared incompetent and forcefully removed to her new, temporary home. It was damn tough. I don’t like bullying her, but my mother is too hardheaded for a gentle nudge. Thanks to Cowan, I got custody of Sam. I put her in the hostel of her private school until things calm down on this end. It’s safer for her there. I still work for Toby, but Monkey has made it clear he expects me to leave my cushy job and throw my full weight into his business when I’m officially his son-in-law. To that extent, my training starts with immediate effect. I spend as much time at Monkey’s office as at Orion, if not more.

I’m exiting Monkey’s workshop office when Clive saunters over from across the road. I was supposed to have a look at the legal side of the business–the orders of motor parts and new vehicles–but I was taking photos of the illegal books and ledgers on my smartphone. Sweat rolls down my temples and back. I’m tense. If anyone suspects something and is bright enough to check my phone, I’m fucked. I haven’t had time to send the photos to Cowan so I can delete them. Clive’s untimely arrival irritates me. It means I have to postpone getting rid of the dangerous evidence in my pocket.

Clive slaps me on the shoulder. “What’s up, bro?”

“Busy. What are you doing here?”

“Monkey said he’s got a job for me.”

I tense more. Clive doesn’t want to get mixed up in this shit. I don’t want to see him take a fall when Cowan takes the whole lot down.

“You don’t look happy,” he says. “What’s the matter? Afraid someone else will take a slice of your pie?”

“You don’t want a job with Monkey.”

“Fuck you, man.”

He tries to push past me, but I grab his arm.

“Listen to me, Clive. Stay where you are or get a better job elsewhere. You don’t want a part in this.”

“Says the man who’s just joined the band. What’s your problem with me, anyway? You’re suddenly too good for the likes of me?”

“That’s not it.” I hesitate to admit this. I don’t want Clive to get suspicious. “I worry about you.”

He snorts. “I’d rather worry about the party if I were you.” He jerks free and dusts his leather jacket where I’d gripped him. “I’m bringing Eugene in, too. You may think you’re too good for us now that you’re bagging Lindy and Sam’s going to that fancy girls’ school, but at least Eugene and I still stick together.”

I clench my teeth. “Don’t do it, Clive. You’re not doing Eugene a favor.”

He puts his face in mine. “He needs a fucking job, or his old man is going to throw him out. Albert says he can’t stay any longer if he doesn’t pay rent.”

“I’ll find him something. I’ll find you something. Give me a couple of days.”

“You’re a shit-ass friend.” He sneers. “We’re in, whether you can deal or not.” He continues toward the office, but halfway there he flings around again. “Anyone else would’ve been happy for his friends. You’re a selfish asshole.”

Biting my tongue, I tilt my head back and let out a heavy breath. From what I’ve seen, Albert already has one foot in Monkey’s business. It was only a matter of time before Eugene followed, but I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that. Maybe I can still talk sense into Eugene.

A whistle from the road pulls my attention. Lindy stands next to her car, curling her finger at me. I take my time, which pisses her off. She’s tapping her foot when I reach her.

“Get in,” she says.

Is this a damn joke? I need to get rid of the photos on my phone. “No time.”

“It wasn’t a request, muffin.”

I clench my jaw so hard I’m about to pop a joint. “Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you whatever I please. Now get in. We’ve got an appointment at the tailor. You need to try on your suit.”

I was going to give it a skip. I don’t give a damn about the suit for Saturday’s party. She must know how I feel, or she wouldn’t be here.

She throws me the keys. “You drive.”

What the hell am I doing here? It’s to get closure. That’s so lame, not even I believe it. No, it’s to punish myself, to slice my heart open even wider and rub more salt in the wound. It’s not anything as noble as bleeding out the hurt to get rid of the pain once and for all. It’s a sick need to see for myself that Brian’s betrayal went deeper than I could’ve ever imagined. It’s flogging myself for my naïve trust. It’s facing the truth. It’s admitting that something I was so desperately clinging onto, the something that would’ve justified everything I lost for loving Brian, doesn’t exist. Until I’ve seen it with my own eyes, I can’t move on. Until I’ve seen Brian and Lindy together, the hope Benjamin rekindled when he told me Brian didn’t accept the money is alive in my chest. I’m here to lay down my hope.

Moving deeper into the hall, I grab a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. With two hundred guests, it’s not difficult to blend in and go unnoticed. Like everyone else, I’m wearing a cocktail dress. On the outside, it’s pretty. Inside, I’m a bloody mess. I look around the huge room, but Brian is nowhere to be seen. I swallow down half of the champagne. It tastes like nothing, until I see her. Then bitter yeast burns in my stomach and acid pushes up in my throat. Lindy and an older woman, who I presume to be her mother, stand in the center of a group. The women are chatting animatedly, admiring her outfit. She’s wearing a coral-pink evening dress embroidered with crystal beads, and her hair is twisted in a French roll. There’s a glow on her cheeks, and her eyes are sparkly. As radiant as she looks, I feel as dirty and used.

The music stops and a thick-set man in a tuxedo goes up behind a podium on a small stage.

“May I have your attention?”

The chatter dies down.

“As you know, we have a special announcement to make. Tonight, my sweet darling girl–no longer such a girl–is getting engaged.”

Loud clapping erupts.

“I’m not a man for long speeches, so I’m just going to call Lindy and Brian up here.”

My heart starts pounding so hard the beat reverberates in my temples. There’s a stir in the crowd and a black blur as one of the many suited men moves toward the stage, but there is only one man like him. Brian’s appearance catches me off guard. It’s not the torn jeans and T-shirts I got used to. His hair is combed back, and he’s wearing a tux like the man who can only be Lindy’s dad. Brian looks ravishing. He looks ten years older. Sophisticated. Dangerous.

I press my clutch bag so hard between my arm and ribs that the clip painfully indents my skin. Brian hops onto the stage in one easy stride and takes his rightful place next to Lindy. She beams up at him. There’s familiarity in the look. It speaks of trust and time spent together.

“With no further ado…” Lindy’s father says, nodding at Brian.

Brian, the man who loved me with his hands, mind, kink, and words, the man who seduced me into giving up everything for a false fairy tale, takes a ring from his pocket and slips it onto her finger.

Cheers and whistling sound around me, but I’m deaf to everything except for the silent words she mouths to Brian, the same words Brian said to me not so long ago. The words I returned.

This is as much as I can take. I’ve seen what I wanted to. Fighting my way through the crowd, I swallow back tears. I drop the glass in my haste, but I don’t care. It’s then that Brian lifts his head and scans the crowd with a furrow between his blond brows, as if he senses the intruder that gatecrashed their party. His gaze moves left, right, and connects with mine.

Shit.

I push harder, trying to open a path to the main exit, but Brian jumps off the stage and rushes effortlessly on the outskirts of the hall toward my escape route. He’s going to cut me off. I change direction, going for a side-door. Around me, the people seem oblivious to my flight. I don’t stop to gauge Lindy’s reaction or to see if she’s spotted me. I almost trip over the threshold. Catching myself with flailing arms, I run over the patio. Nightlights illuminate the garden, so I choose the dark golf range, covering a good distance of short-trimmed grass before I hit a patch of trees.

“Jane!”

It’s him. His footsteps are soundless on the grass, but I can feel him as sure as I can’t see him behind me in the dark. He can’t witness my humiliation. I have to get away. What was I thinking?

His breath is on my neck before his fingers clamp around my upper arms. The momentum of his body crashing into mine sends me face-down to the ground, but his arms are around me before the impact hits, cushioning my fall. My breath is nevertheless knocked out. His weight on top of me doesn’t help. The panic that seized me since my near drowning threatens to turn into a full-blown attack. I fight and wiggle, clawing with my nails in the dirt for leverage.

His breath is hot on my ear. “Shh. Keep still.”

For a moment, the command grounds me. It allows me enough control to master my breathing. The damp from the grass soaks through the fabric of my dress. My knees and elbows sting from grass burns.

“That’s it,” he says. “Easy, princess.”

Princess. It’s a name you call someone either with disdain or affection. She thinks she’s a princess. She’s my princess. How dare he call me that after slipping a ring on another woman’s finger?

His hold loosens. He gets to his feet, pulling me with him. I’m compliant until he steadies me, and then I break free and make another run for it. I don’t get far. His body envelopes mine from behind, slamming my chest into the trunk of a tree. The air leaves my lungs with a humpf this time. He grabs my wrists and pins them next to my face.

“For fuck’s sake,” he growls against my neck. “Will you keep still? You’re going to hurt yourself.”

I laugh almost hysterically. As if I can hurt more than I’m already hurting.

“You think that’s funny?” he grits out.

His hips are flush against mine, letting me feel the steel length of his erection. He’s pressing too hard. My breasts are pushed flat against the tree. The rough bark grazes my nipples and bites into my palms. My hipbones are crushed against the wood, and the apex of my sex rubs against the trunk through my clothes. My heart starts speeding up. My breaths turn erratic. Shamefully, my folds turn wet and swollen. I can hide many things from him, but not this, not my raw, unfair, traitorous desire. I hate him for having this effect on me almost as much as I hate myself.

His fingers tighten around my wrists. “Goddammit. Damn you, Jane.”

“Let me go.”

He rolls his hips, lodging his hard-on between my ass cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you mean I wasn’t invited?”

He punches his hips up, driving me harder against the tree. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?”

It’s the only thing I’m certain of. His closeness is toxic, but my body craves his poison. Yes, this–our bodies rubbing together–is the biggest danger of all.

He drags his nose along my neck and groans. “Jane.”

My body responds, shivers running over me and accumulating in the aching spot between my legs. We’re both panting, but not from our running stunt.

I try to jerk my arms free. “Let go.”

I yelp when he nips my shoulder before soothing the spot with his tongue.

“Why did you come here, princess?”

“To finish what you couldn’t. To look you in the eyes when I tell you goodbye.”

He stills. Not even his chest rises or falls with a breath. “I’m never saying goodbye to you. I set you free, but you came back to me. This changes everything.”

I huff another laugh. “God, Brian. Does your betrayal know no end?”

“You trust me, remember?”

The notion is hilarious. My laugh is hollow. Ugly. Like me. Like everything that’s withering and dying inside. “Give me one good reason why I should still trust you.”

“Because I love you.”

If he’d driven a pincushion full of needles through my heart, he would’ve hurt me less. Those words slash me open and fill me with bitter sadness. It’s a notion of what could’ve been, and it’s entirely cruel. It’s like showing a dog a bone and snatching it away before he can latch onto it. My pride is trampled. My dignity is crushed. All that is left is agony and the humiliating truth pulsing between my legs. I can’t even win this last battle in our raging war.

“Yeah, right.” It’s my anger speaking. “You blew your reason, because I don’t believe you.”

He sucks in a breath. It’s loud, trapped between us. “You don’t mean that.”

“It wasn’t real.”

It wasn’t real. I believed our love was it, once-in-a-lifetime, The One, soulmates, and it wasn’t real. That’s what hurts the most.

The noise he makes is between a growl and a groan. He thrusts his hips, sliding his length along my crack. “Is this real enough for you?”

“No,” I spit out. It’s lust, plain and simple, in its crudest form.

“You want proof?” he hisses. “You want me to remind you what our reality feels like?”

Gripping both wrists in one hand above my head, he bunches my dress up over my hips. The cold night air assaults my thighs and buttocks. I lock my legs tight, hiding the evidence of a different kind of betrayal, my body’s betrayal, from him, but he pushes his knee between my legs and rips the underwear from my hips. The rough sound of fabric tearing only makes me wetter. Oh, God. I don’t want to give in, but I’m already halfway there. My body both jerks away from and toward his touch when he drags four fingers over my slit.

He smears my wetness on my inner thigh. “This is fucking real.”

When he pushes a finger inside, not gentle and loving, but uncompromising and completely, I cry out, pushing my hips back to take more.

“This is real,” he grits out, nuzzling his nose along my neck.

I can’t stop a moan from slipping into the night, carrying a hint of the truth he’s so desperately seeking. How much more of myself can I lose? Nothing. There’s nothing left. He’s already taken it all. There’s no point in defending a fortress that’s long lost. I sag against him as his thumb finds my clit. I’m helpless to stop it. I’m so much weaker than I thought. A tear leaks from my eye as he flaunts my vulnerability, showing me how defenseless I am against his touch.

“That’s it.” He gives it to me harder, just the way I like. “Come for me. Show me.”

It doesn’t take long. I shatter to pieces, shaking with my orgasm and shame. Aftershocks run through my body, keeping me primed. Through the haze of pleasure that fogs my mind, the sound of his zipper registers. The slick head of his cock nudges my folds.

“Tell me this isn’t real,” he whispers against the shell of my ear, “and I’ll stop.”

I can’t do anything of the kind. Of all the weapons I’m willing to use to defend myself, I can’t use this untruth. Our love may not be, but our lust is real. It’s the last shard of light I have left, the last piece of driftwood to cling to as the storm rips me deeper into a dark and tremulous sea.

“Thought so,” he says triumphantly.

Pinning me in place, he rams into me, filling me with a scream and everything I can’t have, everything that’s no longer mine. He lets go of my wrists to clamp a hand over my mouth while he holds me to him with an arm tightly wound around my waist. My cries are muffled in his palm as he pivots his hips with a grueling rhythm, splitting me in two, breaking me into pieces. He’s so deep it hurts. Every thrust pushes me closer to ecstatic pain. He no longer has to hold me down. I’m clawing at his arms and ass, needing him harder. Deeper. All the way to my broken soul.

Covered in mud and grass, we fuck like animals. There’s no place for pretty pink gowns and tenderly mouthed words in what we’re doing. We’re raw and basic, stripped to our barest truths. He fucks me while I scream into his hand, treating me like a dirty whore and precious princess, giving me the devastating illusion of being the center of his world. But right now, we are the center of each other’s worlds. Our pleasure is intertwined, wound tight as he batters my heart and loves my body.

The air changes, becoming darker and more depraved as our lust spirals out of control.

“More,” I pant into his palm. My release is close again, but I can’t slip over.

His cock swells inside me at the plea. Grabbing the short ends of my hair, he tilts my head back, exposing my neck. His lips are all over mine before he clamps down on the tender skin where my neck meets my shoulder. He sucks on me like I’m a medicine for his madness, and then he yanks his cock brutally out of me. My pussy clenches in protest. He uses his fingers to smear my arousal around my asshole. Before I can tense up, the head of his cock is spearing my dark entrance. It hurts and burns with a fierceness that makes me scream louder and him snuffing out the sound harder. He catches my cries in his hand as he shoves in all the way, taking everything I’ve got. For a moment the burn is all I register, but then his fingers are inside me and his thumb is on my clit. Incredible sensations of pleasure and pain collide to form something more explosive and scary. I whimper as the darkness overtakes me, driving me to needs I fear, but he cradles my back against his chest and whispers, “I’ve got you.”

That’s when I let go. The orgasm hits me from all sides. White spots explode in my vision. I don’t realize how badly I need air until he lets up his hand that covers my mouth and part of my nose. My nipples rub against the rough bark as he drives deeper and harder until his cock jerks and his hips cushions mine. Warm jets of cum erupt in my ass. His body falls over mine, his chest covering my back. His breath chases down my neck and spine. We’re both breathing too hard. We’re both doing the ultimate wrong while everything between us feels so right.

The very reality he wanted me to feel slashes through me as he carefully frees his cock. What have we done? Cum dribbles from my ass and down my thighs, giving me the answer. I’m boneless. He has to hold me up while he searches the ground for my torn underwear. He uses the ruined thong to clean up as best as he can between my legs, but the scrap of fabric is not enough to wipe away all the evidence. Slowly, he turns me, letting my back rest against the trunk. My eyes are accustomed enough to the dark to see the turmoil in his as he searches my face.

“Jane…”

God, we’re a mess. We’re dirty and disheveled. My dress is still hitched up over my hips and his cock is hanging half-erect through his open fly. His cum is sticky on my legs, the ache between my thighs and in my ass still fresh.

“Jane, I–”

A voice interrupts from nearby. “What the fuck?”

Brian goes rigid. I freeze. He jerks down the fabric of my dress, hiding my body with his.

“Oh, God,” Clive says, stepping into our line of vision. “You did not just fuck Jane. What the fuck is wrong with you? Monkey and Lindy are looking for you.”

At the mention of her name, my body tenses. More shame fills me until I feel nothing but disgust for myself.

Brian’s hands tighten on my hips as I go from legless to taunt.

“Shut the hell up, Clive.”

“You better get back there,” he says, shooting arrows, and daggers, and needles at me. “I covered for you, saying you had too much to drink and are vomiting your guts out in the bushes. It’s only a matter of time before Monkey himself comes out here looking for you.”

“Jane…”

It’s the third time he says my name, and this time it’s laced with regret. I didn’t expect anything else, so why does it hurt even worse than before?

Gathering the last scraps of whatever dignity I have left, I straighten my dress. “Goodbye, Brian.”

His jaw bunches. He clenches his fists, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t try to stop me when I hobble over the grass, feeling the sting of his passion in the most forbidden places of my body. All I can do as I feel their eyes on me, betraying and judging eyes, is walk away with my head held high until I get to my car.

Unlocking the door with trembling fingers, I fall down in the seat. Wild sobs shake my shoulders. Messy tears soil my face, dripping into my lap. I’m such a sucker for punishment. The only thing I accomplished was proving to myself and Brian that I’m not over him, not even after what he did. I’m an idiot. A pathetic creature. I’m the woman Brian fucks like an animal, not the one he puts a ring on. At least that part sank in.

The fairy lights of the party blurs in my vision as I start the engine and turn the car toward the gates. I can’t see well enough through the shower of tears to find the road even if I wanted, but I have to get away. I want to go home where I can curl into a ball and hide from my feelings and the world. I’ll have a good cry, and then I’ll get up and move on. I’m alive when I could’ve easily been dead. I’m not wasting this second-chance life that has been gifted me. Not even for Brian.