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I grab his arm and twist it high behind his back when I hear thebut.
“Stop whining,” I seethe, twisting his arm harder and harder. “You racked up that debt in my club, and so I stole your son to motivate you to pay. Vivienne wasn’t part of this until she tried to help the people who hate her guts by rescuing her brother. An angel who came to the devil’s door. I saw her, so sweet and perfect with a baby in her arms, and my dick stood to attention. I fucked your daughter. I’ve fucked her so many times, and now I’m going to keep her because she’s mine. The question is, am I taking your son from you as well? Barlow Mercer. That has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? What a happy family the three of us will make. How long before he’s calling Vivienne and me Mommy and Daddy and forgetting he ever had two pieces of shit for parents?”
“No, please, leave us—”
“I said stop. Fucking.Whining.” I push his arm even higher. There’s a crack. Stone lets out a bloodcurdling scream, and I can’t help but grin at the beautiful pain in his voice. When I let go of him, he falls to the ground. I step back and enjoy the sight of him rolling around like the worm he is.
“My arm, my arm,” he moans, clutching himself. “What do you want from me?”
I straighten the cuffs of my shirt and step on his neck. Harder and harder until he starts to choke. “There’s one person preventing me from killing you right this second. I hate to see her cry, and right now she’d cry over your dead body, even though you don’t deserve it. If my angel ever comes to me in tears over something you’ve done again, next time I won’t just break your arm. I’ll break your fucking neck, and your wife will get a bullet.”
Stone makes some kind of choking reply that I take to mean he understands me, and so I reluctantly lift my foot. I won’t kill him tonight.
But soon.
I’ll make Vivienne love me so hard that she’ll barely feel a flicker when I finally kill her father and stepmother. Until then, I’ll have to put up with them breathing the same air in this city as her.
I turn and walk back up the darkened street. It’s up to Stone what happens next. If my girl is smiling, I’m smiling, and they get to live a little longer. If she keeps crying, then I’ll have to fix this problem quickly for her. I hope with all my heart Owen Stone fucks up soon, because killing him and his wife and rolling them into shallow graves?
I can’t fucking wait.
8
Vivienne
Iwork like a demon all week to get my costume ready for the ball, and when I’m not measuring, cutting, sewing, unpicking, and resewing, I’m hanging decorations in the ballroom with the decoration committee to get everything ready for the big night. The committee has chosen a classic masquerade theme, taking inspiration fromThe Phantom of the Operaand Venetian masked balls. Several enormous crystal chandeliers are hanging from the high ceiling, which is festooned with colorful banners and hundreds of fairy lights.
On Tuesday, I borrow some angel wings from the drama department to go with my unfinished dress.
By Wednesday, I’m in tears in my room because I can’t make the silk fabric flow how I want it to over my body.
Thursday night sees me finally getting the dress right—and then I panic when I remember I haven’t started my mask.
On Friday, I’m frantically hot-gluing crystal tears to a stone-white masquerade mask with a golden ivy halo.
When Saturday afternoon rolls around, my costume is as ready as it’s ever going to be and I sit down to put my makeup on. I’m so exhausted that I’ve barely thought about Tyrant and the things he said the last time I saw him. Now that I have a moment to breathe, the things he said come rushing back.
Be a good girl for Tyrant and take a pregnancy test. I’m aching to know if I’m going to be a daddy.
I glance at my bedside table drawer where I stashed the pregnancy test. I really could be pregnant. I haven’t had my period for more than three weeks, but I don’t know exactly when to expect it because it can be unpredictable.
Do Iwantto be pregnant? I imagine Tyrant’s face as I put my arms around his neck and whisper to him that we’re having a baby. His quicksilver eyes gleam and a smile spreads over his beautiful lips. He’ll kiss me, and whisper against my lips that he’s never loved anyone before, but he loves me and our baby so much he can barely breathe.
My eyes sting and my throat burns. Being loved that much is impossible. That kind of all-encompassing love is only in the movies, but as hopeless as it is, my mind runs away with itself, imagining Tyrant getting down on one knee and proposing with a diamond ring. Watching me walk down the aisle toward him to take my hands in his strong ones. Drawing a white veil back from my face and kissing me. Caressing my baby bump. Holding our baby. Swearing that I’ll never be alone again, and our child and I will always, always be his family.
It’s such a beautiful dream. It can’t possibly be real. I berate myself for being so sentimental. Tyrant isn’t a Hallmark movie kind of man. If he wants a baby, it’s because he wants a baby, not because he wants me.
Tomorrow. I’ll take the test tomorrow. I don’t feel pregnant, so I feel pretty confident that it will be negative. When I see that it’s negative I’ll be able to put Tyrant out of my mind forever and get on with my life.
Unless I call him up and tell him that it’s negative. I pause, the sponge of white makeup I’m using to make myself look like a statue pressed against my neck, wondering whether I should tell Tyrant the results, even if they’re negative. If I do, maybe he’ll appear and try to do something about me not being pregnant. I meet my gaze in the mirror and realize I’m blushing.
At seven, I’m ready for the ball, and I meet Carly and Julia outside in the hall. Carly is dressed as a sixteenth-century plague doctor with a black corset, a long flowing skirt, and an unnerving hooked-nose mask. Julia is wearing a green-and-purple Poison Ivy catsuit and mask, with glimmering lights in her curled and teased hair. We gush over each other’s outfits for several minutes, all of us declaring that the other two have put together the best ones and theirs is nowhere near as beautiful or interesting.
The halter neck of my dress needs smoothing down, and when I run my fingers over the fabric, my fingers pass over a lump on the back of my neck. Frowning, I rub the spot and feel something moving around beneath my skin.
“Vivienne?” Carly asks me while tugging her corset into place. “Is something wrong with your costume?”
“No, I just thought…do you feel anything here?” I lift my hair and turn away from her, pointing to the spot.
