My hand clasps against her head, holding her to me, tightly, safe. We are surrounded by guards. Always watching, protecting, and anticipating. My eyes blur as the pain washes through them, my heart a constant ache inside me, reminding me it will never be whole again.
She’s shivering; it’s cold.
I shrug out of my jacket and place it around her, pulling her close to my side.
“Let’s go home.” I say, almost conversationally, as if I didn’t just freak the fuck out and nearly ruin everything.
Once again, we head to the car, my guards silent, always silent as they note the madness in their boss. I’m aware of my reputation. Nobody messes with me because I have no regard for emotion, no compassion left in my soul.
With a sigh, Spencer slams the door behind me, his concern evident in his expression, and I hate how well he knows me. He is always the one who bears the brunt of my frustration and will be angry it was Tiffany this time.
I’m aware he was against our marriage for this reason alone. Beauty and the Beast, for sure.
Perhaps it’s not too late to transform into her prince.
CHAPTER 39
TIFFANY
Iwas terrified. I have never seen madness like it. He was consumed with rage, anger, and desolation. I experienced his pain; it’s something familiar, and yet I couldn’t walk away. His friend was dead, and he blamed himself. It makes perfect sense now.
We head home, and as we step inside the door, Mrs. Harrington materializes and says with concern, “Would you like me to fix some cocoa, sir?”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Harrington.” I answer for him. “Perhaps a stiff brandy would be better; in fact, you may as well leave the bottle.”
Joseph says nothing and merely heads to the library, and with a sad smile to the concerned housekeeper, I follow him.
The fire blazes, the warm glow comforting, providing comfort when it’s sorely needed.
We take our usual seats before it, and Joseph gazes into the flames, a tortured expression on his face.
As Mrs. Harrington enters, she places the tray with the brandy and two huge glasses beside me.
“Thank you, Mrs. Harrington. You may finish for the night.”
My smile is warm because it appears that our housekeeper also shares my concern.
As she leaves, she closes the door softly behind her, and then we are alone.
I say nothing and merely pour the brandy and offer him the glass.
He stares into the fire, not once glancing in my direction, and as he begins to speak, my blood runs cold.
“We were at school.I’d met a waitress in the diner in town who made it perfectly clear of her interest in me. I was besotted by her.”
He rolls the brandy around the glass and sighs heavily.
“I arranged to meet her by slipping her a note one day. I told her to meet me in the alley behind the diner during the day. We were heavily guarded even then, and it was the only opportunity I had to slip free of the guards. Zac begged me not to, but I wouldn’t listen. I was more interested in getting laid; it was the most important thing to me.”
He leans back, his face ashen, and hisses, “She set me up. I fucked her against the alley wall while Zac kept watch. It all happened so quickly; I had no chance to react. She pushed me away as soon as she heard tires screeching to a stop. Fleeing to the diner, leaving me to face Armageddon.”
My blood runs cold as he hisses, “It all happened so fast. One minute I saw my friend and the next he was dead on the ground, shot in the head, neck, and chest, death almost instant. I sank to my knees. I couldn’t believe my eyes, and then they came for me, dragging me into a car, knocking me out with one punch.”
Tears fall from me, but not Joseph, his expression is blank, cold even.
“I woke up naked and hanging from a hook in a warehouse. The men jeered and took turns using me as a punching bag. Taunting me, telling me of their plan to cut me to pieces and send my body parts back to my father, one for every day of the week until they ran out. They tortured me, sending him videos, taunting him, demanding money and promising they would kill me if he didn’t pay up. I was there for seven days. For two hours every day I hung from the hook, beaten and ridiculed; their words still haunting my memories. They brought Zac’s body to the room they locked me in at night, leaving me with his lifeless body as a reminder of my guilt.”
I can’t help the sob that escapes, despite how strong I am trying to be. I can’t ever imagine going through such horror, and I wonder how he survived at all.
