He was insatiable last night, refusing to go limp, drowning me in orgasms once he realized edging me wasn’t going to earn him a kiss.
Shedruggedhim—her own son. So that he’d impregnate some random girl.
I cover my mouth as another wave of nausea roils. What kind of peopledothings like that? Has she done it before? Does he know it was his mother who drugged him?
That might explain why he waited until I was up and ordered room service and Epsom salts. He probably felt guilty about the entire incident.
Why didn’t he warn me, so I’d be prepared? Now I’m on his mother’s radar. She’s seen me—and worse, has taken Aaron, who’d sellme out in a heartbeat just to see me suffer—and thinks I’m going to give her a grandchild.
No. A great-grandchild for her father.
Oh God.Uncontrollable tremors rack through me. What do I do now? Can I even run? Will that psycho woman let me?
As my predicament becomes clearer, resentment and anger start to rear their heads. Bryce has to know his mother isn’t normal, but he dragged me into it anyway. If another girl drugged him last night, he could’ve just spent the night with her and left me out of it. We don’t have the kind of relationship that requires fidelity. And getting entangled with his Looney Tunes mom wasn’t part of the deal, damn it.
I jump to my feet and put on my clothes—or try to. The underwear is ruined, and the only things still intact are my trench coat and shoes. I slip into them, cinching the belt tightly. I open the Uber app, my fingers clumsy with nerves.
The question on the screen:Where to?
The burst of energy that got me moving drains away. I lean against the wall, then slowly slide down until my butt hits the floor. My teeth dig into my lip until it bleeds. I look out across the room and out the window to the vast panorama of Los Angeles spread out below.
I have nowhere to go.
Chapter Twenty
Bryce
“Fiona!” I scream, bursting into the suite. Fear pounds in my skull as I look around.
Mom is a sociopath. If she finds out that Fiona isn’t the girl she sent…
I don’t dare imagine the consequences. The woman didn’t think there was anything wrong with kidnapping her own children and leaving one to die in a wildfire, all the while claiming she just wanted to have a happy, intact family.
“Fiona!” The yell is half choked with shaky terror.
My eyes roam the suite. The breakfast is mostly eaten. No sound from the bathroom. A bottle of unopened Merlot on the room service cart—
I didn’t order that.
The tip of my shoe hits a corkscrew on the floor. My heart stops. A potential weapon. Who used it?
My hands tremble. I squat to study the tool, then let out a sigh of relief when I don’t see any blood on it. Not that that means Fiona is safe. It could’ve been what she picked out to protect herself with. But no blood at least means Mom didn’t use it on her.
I collected and read every tabloid account of her “glamorous” life as a wealthy woman in Nesovia. I wanted to understand what moved her to go to that extreme to avoid divorce. Mom claimed she merely wanted to keep our family of five together, but The Fogeys didn’t buy it. According to them, she dazzled Dad in a whirlwind romance, pretending she had no idea who he was, to pull Huxley & Webber into her father’s empire. Vincent wanted to expand into America and needed good lawyers who could assist.
When Dad discovered who she really was and what kind of insanity she planned to bring to the family, he initiated divorce proceedings against her. She insisted she loved him and the sons they’d had together, and it culminated in the kidnapping.
Vincent agreed to the divorce and gave Dad what he wanted, except for two points: Mom going to prison and staying away from us forever. She didn’t go, and she apparently cried and pleaded until Vincent negotiated with The Fogeys to keep her away from us for twenty-two years.
The articles I’ve read didn’t portray her in the best light. She lived like a socialite with many lovers. Whispers of abuse spread—beating lovers for displeasing her. Many of the men complained she was freakishly strong and fast.
I recall how she struggled to nab me, Ares and Josh. She wasn’t that physically capable back then.
She’s prepared for twenty-two years to retake what she thinks is hers.
I shudder at the memory of Harvey’s warning. She could’ve gotten stronger, physically and otherwise. Twenty-two years is a long time to nurture a grudge.
This time she won’t give up so easily, especially if Vincent’s sick. And even more so if she thinks she could get into trouble for killing a baby brother I didn’t even know existed.
