“She ran away from home because her mom was a drug addict. She got caught up with other guys and drugs, but she promised herself that she’d raise me as if I were a princess. She wanted to make me feel special, and she did.” I start crying.
Beckett rolls over to the side table and pulls a few tissues from the box. “Sounds like she was a very good mother to you,” Beckett says gently.
“I was in foster care for a while because she fucked up a couple of times. The system is set up to hurt people like my mom. She needed help and never really had the kind of support system that would help her survive, and so she didn't.”
“You’ll be an even better mom, Scarlett. I’m sure of it.” He strokes my face and kisses my lips.
“I hope so. When I met Mia, I found someone in this world who was as broken and messed up as me. We promised we’d just crush it, you know. She ended up finding your family and came into money, but we still had our dreams. Hers are Broadway and mine ballet. I feel likeI’ve let her down, and I’ve betrayed myself.” I wipe my tears with the tissues.
“You can believe that our baby, our marriage, and surviving a car crash and a kidnapping has broken you. Or you can look at our beautiful child and congratulate yourself for being brave enough to bring her into the world. You can pat yourself on the back for standing up to a billionaire asshole and brightening his life. And after surviving two harrowing incidents in a short period of time, you just rode my cock like a boss. You’re crushing it, Scarlett, with incredible grace and power.” He kisses my neck.
I just trauma-dumped my whole life on him.
“Thank you for saving me,” I say, feeling selfish for making this ordeal all about me. He is the one who took a moral stand and had to pay the consequences. He also randomly had sex with a girl who he thought was using birth control and ended up having a baby he didn't want and a wife he vowed to never have. He made big strides to accept me into his life, and I have to acknowledge that.
“I should thank you for savingme, Scarlett. I’m glad you’re alive. I can only imagine what you just endured. I’m going to keep you here until I figure out a plan to stop Carl. He was like an uncle to me growing up, so the fact that he orchestrated your kidnapping proves money doesn’t buy love.” He strokes my arm and props his head up.
“You had a mother who was forced by circumstances to sell her body to take care of you. She was a kid unable to face her own trauma, and the fact that a father made her a mother is disgusting. I’m sure she raised you to the very best of her ability, and you are beautiful, inside and out. She did her best, and her best made you.”
His smile is so beautiful, nothing like the dangerous and omnipotent man I first met.
“My family had more money than God. My mother was an heir to a diamond magnate, and my father was an old money real estate guy. They had billions of dollars, all of it is now mine, but my mother never hugged me—not even once. She patted me on the head sometimes, but I was never told that they were proud of me, nor was I read abedtime story. When my fatherdidtake the time to have a conversation, he reminded me that I should not fall in love. Love was the enemy of success.” His eyes are cold and distant; this memory hurts.
“You’ll read bedtime stories to Rayne and make love to me.” I smile. “Together,” I take his hand and hold it up to my lips, kissing his knuckles, “we’ll win the world.”
“I know we will. I want to tell you that I dated after I met you and never found a woman who had your fire. I thought of you every day, and now you’re mine. I don't want to imprison you here, but I don't feel comfortable with you out in the world either. We have to defeat Carl. The only way for us to live a happy life together is to thwart his plans.” Beckett looks slightly defeated.
“From what I knew of CSS, they're like a gentleman's club. Now you say they are asking you to create a weapon of mass destruction? I understand that they’re an elusive secret society, but they can't be blatantly illegal; they throw stupid masquerade balls,” I wink at him, “and own high-end restaurants, apartment buildings, and hotels. They’re not known for vigilante genocide.” I just don't see how a gentleman's club could become a war unit.
“See, that's what has me confused as well,” Beckett confesses. “CSS has always been like the mafia; they're in messy things. They rough people up, and some disappear if they go against them. They're not in the habit of killing masses of people. I'm not sure that's what they're planning, but having a weapon with that potential is dangerous in their hands.” I can tell the stress of this is really taking a toll on him. “You’ve been through a lot, Scarlett. You don’t need to be worrying about this. I’m sorry to involve you.”
Beckett truly seems like an adult, and I feel like a child playing a game, but I can be a sounding board for him and maybe together we can figure out how to get him out of this mess.
“I’m okay. I like it when you treat me like an adult. It’s making me feel better. Is there any reason to believe that Carl wants to overthrow CSS? Does he have a beef with them?”
“Yes. Carl has always wanted to be the top guy. He's more like thetenth from the top, and he's older, you know, in his seventies. He's feeling the pressure of time, and maybe having this weapon will allow him to reach the top in time to enjoy a few years of power. He may not be planning on taking down an entire country, but having the means to do it would give him the control he's craving.”
“Is there any way to expose him?”
“I've been advised to try and create the formula but be ‘unable’ to synthesize the weapon. My worry is that even getting close to the formula could allow someone else to do the rest of the work. What I would have to do is disable the formula in such a way that no combination would produce results. It's DNA, so biological and unpredictable. If the coding is incorrect, it could hurt people in other ways. The best thing to do is to not work on it.”
“Someone else in CSS must be partnering with him. Maybe we should find out who he’s working with and what they are trying to do.”
“That’s a great idea.” He kisses the top of my head. “You need to get some sleep.” His voice is distant and melodic.
“I guess you’re right,” I say, pulling away, but he holds me to his body.
“Stay here. I like holding you. It makes me feel safer knowing you’re beside me.”
I look into his eyes and I know he means it.
“I was waiting to die, tied up, and abandoned. I never realized how scared I could be, but you make me feel loved. I needed this.”
“I just don’t know if my love is enough,” he says. He brings the covers up, and I start to fall asleep. “But I’m yours, Scarlett.”
The next morning we wake up together, and I think it might be awkward. It isn't.
Beckett is sweet and attentive, making me coffee in bed—a fancy little cappuccino. He knows I like them, so he makes it perfectly. We eat fresh fruit straight from the bowl, and he watches the news. I scroll through my phone to see that I have missed literally hundreds of texts from friends. It is an oddly domesticated morning for what we have been through.
