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I slip from bed, careful to make sure I don’t wake her. Then I grab her phone. "Unknown" flashes on the screen.
My fist clenches around the phone. I’m willing to bet my life this isn’t a solicitor calling at two in the morning; more like the devil.
I slide out of bed and quickly walk down the hall to the kitchen, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I’m alone.
I press answer and wait. Silence. That is exactly what I’d expect from a man like Andrew.
"Hello," I say.
More silence, but then he speaks. I know it’s Andrew; he’s growing desperate to take what’s mine. I can't confirm it by his voice because he's using a voice distortion device.
"I know who you are," the prick says. I can hear the cocky smile on his lips. The fake voice sounds deep and scary, and I'm relieved I heard the phone and answered it instead of Poppy. She's scared enough as it is.
I walk further into my kitchen. "I know who you are, too; no need for dramatics, Andrew." My blood pressure is through the roof. I wish I could reach through the phone and kill him. "If you were a real man, you wouldn't need to hide, but you’re not. You are just a scared, abused boy who thinks he found a toy he can claim as his. You never learned how to share in the sandbox; you never learned the rules, but I’ll teach them to you. Oh, and Andrew," I chuckle, "if you think your daddy's lessons hurt you, then you have no idea what pain is when it comes in the form ofmylessons." I smile, "You’re never going to see Poppy again. I’ll make sure of it."
Is provoking him wise? Maybe. I want this to end, so I need to poke him enough to come to me.
"She’s mine!" He hisses. "I had her first."
"You raped her. You never had her, Andrew. You took. Guess what," I pause and relish in his seething anger. "I never had to take from her. She gave me everything. Willingly."
"You’re a liar."
"No," I laugh. "I’m not. Poppy loves me. Did she ever tell you that? Did you believe it when she said it, or did you have to scare her, threaten her to hear those words? You’ve never heard those words willingly before, have you, Andrew?"
I don't let him speak, pressing the phone closer to my lips, "I would have felt bad for you, but that was all erased the first time you hurt her. There comes a time in everyone's life when you endure a situation that tests you; you either persevere and remain good, or you crumble and turn evil. I know your dad hurt you, but you chose to hurt others. You are your father."
"No, I'm not!"
"Yeah, you are," I reply calmly. You will never have Poppy's love. You will never be loved as long as you keep hurting people."
"She only let you fuck her because she misses me."
What the fuck is wrong with this guy?
"Keep telling yourself that," I snort. "Deep down, you know I'm right. That’s why you called. That’s why you killed your fiancée. You’re scared and worried Poppy's forgetting about you. She is." I grin. "I’m going to make sure Poppy never thinks about you, Andrew. There's a certain place in hell specifically designed for men like you, but until your time comes, there’s a certain place here on earth where I will take you. You’re going to be locked away, living life slowly. You will wake up every single day and think about this conversation. As time passes, you will fade from a nightmare to a memory in Poppy’s mind. Then, one day, that memory is going to be replaced. Poof, you’re nothing to her."
"What’s that? No planned comeback?" I taunt him. "You see, Andrew, the time for planning has come to an end. If you think running to Daddy will help you, then you’re wrong, Andrew." Right before I hang up, I tell him, "This is between you and me now. I hope you’re ready."
Chapter 21
Poppy
"This is for you," Harper says, her voice echoing slightly in Julian's spacious walk-in closet. She hands me a silver bag, the glittery tissue paper peeking out like curious eyes. "Don’t open it till you arrive. It’s a surprise gift for your trip."
I place my morning coffee on a shelf nestled between rows of neatly arranged shoes and cautiously eye the bag. Given Harper's history with surprises, I half-expect it to burst into a pink glitter bomb, covering Julian's meticulously organized closet.
”You know this is a work trip," I say, gently prodding the bag as if it might reveal its secrets through touch alone. The contents yield softly under my fingers, offering no clues, just the promise of Harper's mischief. Satisfied nothing will jump out, I place the bag in my luggage, nestled among my neatly folded clothes.
"I know, but it will make sense when you open it," she assures me with a grin that spells trouble.
Julian and I are headed to D.C. this morning for work. Harper and Kent crashed our morning breakfast and are going to drive us to the airport. I think Julian, Kent, and Harper planned this distraction so I couldn't focus or turn on the news.
"Should I be worried about what’s in that bag?" I ask, eyeing my carry-on with a mix of anticipation and dread. "You know I have to go through security, right?"
Harper flicks her long blonde hair over her shoulder with a practiced flourish. "You’re flying private. You could pack whips and chains, and they’d probably help you unpack and turn the cockpit into a mile-high sex room," she jokes. "Chill-lax, I can see the sweat beading on your brow. Not sexy," she teases, her laughter lightening the mood. "It’s a good surprise. Trust me."
"Famous last words," I retort, though her playful banter has softened the edge of my anxiety.
