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My fingers toy with the lid of my latte cup. Andrew's father might be a billionaire and a senator with presidential aspirations, but Julian's uncle heads the CIA. Maybe that tips the odds in my favor.
“My brother Peter always worried about me, more so after our parents passed. Peter became both Henry's and my parental figure. That meant he scolded us as much as he loved us. Andrew, my ex, was the hottest guy in our college; he was the hottest guy in town.” I shrug.“His family owned the town, and it was that ownership that worried Peter. There were rumors that were not all good about Andrew's family, but I thought they were just that: stories made up by people who were jealous of Andrew's money and power.
“Andrew approached me; he was interested in me. I had never dated before, so it was…exciting. But deep in my gut, I worried why the hottest guy wanted me.”
Julian shakes his head,“He wanted you because you’re beautiful.”
“There are a lot of pretty girls.” I rebuttal.
“Yeah, there are, but finding a girl who doesn’t use her beauty as a weapon is rare, and I’m sure Andrew noticed that.”
I hate hearing Andrew’s name on Julian’s lips.
“Things started off…good. Andrew was sweet and caring.” I falter,“Then he started to change, or rather, he became comfortable enough to show me his true colors. I know it was wrong. I know I should have run. I know…” Tears blur my eyes.
Julian moves closer, his touch gentle as he brushes my hair aside.“The wisest of us can be ruled by fear, Poppy. It makes us react in ways we can’t predict.”
I nod and exhale a shaky breath,“When he,” just say it. Get it off your chest and shovel out the dirt so you can clear a path to escape this nightmare.“When he hurt me the first time, I just excused it. I guess I was in shock. Then it happened again, and I believed him when he said it was my fault.” The sharp exhale that leaves my lips feels like some weight has been lifted off my chest.“I know now; I even knew then it wasn’t my fault. Nothing vindicates him for hitting me, but I was scared and had never been in a relationship. Never been abused.”
Julian’s jaw clenches, and his hands grip the couch as if anchoring himself against a storm of rage.
“Our relationship was a cycle of highs and lows, moments of laughter shadowed by fear. Andrew kept pushing for, you know,”
“No,” Julian replies through gritted teeth.“Tell me.”
“He wanted to have sex, and I wasn’t ready. Secretly, I was. It’s just I didn’t want to have sex with him. I knew in my heart I needed to leave. I just saw no way out. So I kept going.” I whisper the last words.
I hug the cup to my chest as I continue.“He had parties at his pool house all the time. I had to attend because I was his girlfriend. That night, he didn’t want to wait anymore. Maybe I led him on; maybe I should have told him I wanted to break up. I kept hoping he would just break up with me.”
Julian shakes his head,“That’s not a justification for his actions, Poppy.”
My hands shake as I set the latte aside, clutching the blanket for a semblance of security. The thick knitted fabric does nothing to relax me.“He didn’t listen when I said no. He wanted, so he took.” My voice trails off, lost in the memory of that violation.“I didn’t do anything. I didn’t scream or fight.” I breathe out the words.
Julian stills; I rapidly blink through tears; I’m not even sure he’s breathing. He stands abruptly, his back facing me now as his chest heaves deeply.
“I didn’t want to tell you. You’ll look at me differently now.” I mutter under my breath, thinking he won’t hear, but he does. He turns and suddenly sits back down by my side, cupping my face.“Iwilllook at you differently. I’ll look at you as a survivor, not someone who is broken and abused, Poppy. It doesn’t change my love; it intensifies it. It makes me insane with a need to avenge you. I will.”
I grasp his face, mirroring his gesture with my own urgency, "You can't, Julian. What happened was just the start of the evening, and what I have to tell you will prove to you just how dangerous his family is.”
Chapter 6
Poppy
The past: the night of the party.
Andrew’s still inside of me even though he came a few minutes ago. Still watching me, still above me, trapping me. Watching and waiting for what, I'm not sure.
Maybe he’s expecting me to scream, cry, or just play dead. His gaze, though void of empathy, is heavy with an unspoken demand for some form of reaction, a testament to his control over me.
He pushes back my hair with a gesture that feigns tenderness,“You’re mine. So fucking pretty. Fuck, I love you,” he mutters, more to himself than to me.“I know you’re scared, but you did so well, love. It’s going to get better every time.” He bends and kisses my lips, and I can’t help but feel like he’s kissing a soulless body like he ripped my soul from me, and now I’m just a shell, an empty vessel devoid of the spirit that once animated me.
He finally pulls out, leaving behind pain and an icy burn whooshing inside of me. He leans back on his haunches, looking down at his cock, which is smeared with my blood. A snort of laughter escapes him as he grins to himself, then stands from the bed, still looking at the condom almost with an immense sense of pride. I just lay there, unmoving, a statue in a twisted tableau.
“Go shower; we need to get back to the party,” he orders me as he grabs his shirt from the floor and begins to put it on. The casualness of his command, as if what transpired was nothing out of the ordinary, sends a fresh wave of nausea through me.
Has he done this before?
I hope not. I pray no other girl has suffered like I did. Like I am.
