Feather Bound (14 page)

My feet were killing me. I should have known not to take out my old, barely-cushioned sneakers for a walk through a public park. Since we started “dating”, I'd resolved not to accept any more gifts from Hyde, which meant rejecting the several pairs of three hundred dollar shoes he'd offered.

Smoothing my skirt against my legs from behind, I sat down on the steps. “I just noticed tonight you were a bit…” I thought of a good word to use, but the only one I could think of was “off”, which sounded both vague and insulting at the same time.

“Sorry,” he said, sitting next to me. “If I seemed off at all tonight, it definitely has nothing to do with you.” I nodded. “A lot on my mind is all.”

“Company stuff, right?” I rubbed my ankles. “How does that work, anyway? I mean what exactly do you do all day?”

My heart skipped a beat when Hyde swiveled me to him. For a second, I thought he'd kiss me. Instead he bent down, lifted my feet and put them on his knees. “Lots of boring stuff, really.” He slipped off my shoes, the first and then the second. “I'm still young, so it's not like I control the show or whatever the case may be. There are other executives. But Dad's will gave me the majority share of the company and authority as a senior executive. That means I show up to a lot of meetings.”

Of course he started to rub my feet. Of course he did. My base instinct told me to yank them out of his hands before he could get a whiff of something less than pleasant because, you know, old sneakers and all. But once those thumbs started working their magic, it was all I could do to stay upright. As a compromise, I kept my feet where they were but squeezed my eyes shut out of embarrassment. A flush of heat positively burned my face from the inside.

“And n-none of it fazes you?” I stuttered out the question with my eyelids still pinned shut. “I mean you're what, twenty? How can you handle all of it?”

“Nineteen,” Hyde corrected and the little laugh that shook the word from his lips told me he could probably see me not seeing him. “I've always had something of an affinity for this kind of thing. When I was away, I studied. That's practically all I did for a while. I'm also pretty smart, or don't you remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He could help, a voice kept hissing in the back of my mind. He's smart, right? He could help you. Just tell him about Anton. I tried. Every time I saw Hyde, the urge to spill everything would kick in so strongly, it was as if I could feel the words forming on my tongue. But every time, I'd think back to the cage. I'd picture Anton leering at me. Then I'd just clamp my mouth shut and hope my lips weren't trembling as I smiled instead.

Hyde was smart, yes, and he was obviously cool-headed when he needed to be. But how could I forget how frantic he was after I'd hurt myself at Anton's birthday party? He was the kind of guy who'd call fifty times a day when he was worried about someone, send Mariachi Bands to cheer them up, run out in the middle of the night to meet them when they asked. If I told him what Anton had done to me, what he was doing to me, how could I be perfectly sure that he wouldn't freak out and try to beat him ragged? And then what would happen to me? To my family? Could I count on Hyde to fix this? Could I trust him?

I shivered and slipped my feet out of his grip. “Still, I assume it takes more than that to head a company.”

“Technically a person just needs to be the biggest asshole possible. There's no faster path to success.”

“Asshole, huh?” Putting my shoes back on, I stared at the pavement. “Like firing someone's dad?” When Hyde didn't answer, I shoved his knees. “Honestly, Hyde, I know Edmund Rey obviously wanted the majority share of the company. But you have it now. Doesn't that solve the problem? Did you really need to fire him?”

It was a tough card to play; how could I forget that night on my front steps – the way Hyde's eyes had frozen solid the moment I'd brought it up?

I waited for Hyde's answer regardless, watched his expression, only half-surprised when it turned to stone.

“Edmund Rey's been involved in criminal activity,” said Hyde in a frigid voice. “Firing him was kind.”

“That makes sense but…” I thought hard, trying to ignore the sound of Anton's voice shuddering through my head. “I mean he's your uncle. Right? He was your mom's brother?” A sentiment that probably meant nothing to him, but if I could just get him to lay off Anton's dad, I could end this whole nightmare – for both our sakes.

“My uncle's done more to ruin lives than you think, Deanna.”

He didn't look at me as he said it. His eyes were glued resolutely to the gates surrounding the townhouse, his hand clenching and unclenching the fabric around his knees. It didn't look as if he'd even noticed.

“Like what?” I clasped his hand in mine, but the moment I touched his skin, he shot to his feet. My heart leapt into my throat. For a second, we stared at each other, both of us too disoriented to speak.

Finally, Hyde cleared his throat. “Well. This isn't exactly how I like to end my dates,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I'm a little jumpy tonight.You won't hold it against me, will you?”

“No.” From throat to stomach. Watching Hyde struggle to keep a smile on his face even while his hands were trembling sent my heart plummeting. He reminded me so much of myself sometimes. It made it harder to hurt him to know he was already hurting.

“Hey,” I said, standing. “Look, I know it's been a few years. But we're still friends.” With as gentle a touch as I could manage, I placed my hands on his arms. “If there's anything wrong with you… I mean, if you've got anything on your mind, I really hope you'll be able to trust me enough to tell me–”

The next words caught in my throat. Pursing my lips I lowered my head. Asking Hyde to trust me. How much of that was genuine and how much of it was the mission that fear had hardwired into me?

“Thanks,” Hyde whispered. The sound of it made my breath hitch; fragility carried it like the baseline of a melody. He squeezed my hand. Anton would've been proud. I hated myself. “So, I'm not going to have much free time next week,” he said after clearing his throat. “But I was wondering if you'd like to come with me to a party Beatrice's hosting this Saturday?”

“Party?”

“Yep. Just one of my many newfound duties now that I'm back in the world of strategic schmoozing. It's going to be boring as hell, of course – the social equivalent of water boarding really – which means I'll need someone to help keep me sober.”

“A lot of people from the company will probably be there too, right? Like… board members and whatnot?” I'd asked it very quietly. I couldn't even look him in the eyes as I spoke.

“Yep.” He laughed. “
Bella Magazine
's still a part of Hedley Publications. A lot of people from the company'll probably be there. But it won't be a total waste of time if we keep each other company, right? You can bring your sisters too, if you want. Well, Ericka'll probably be there anyway if her jittery husband's on the list. I'll text you the address later.”

“OK,” I shifted on my feet. “Thanks, Hyde.”

We both fell silent. Hyde's gaze lingered on my lips a little while longer. “Deanna… would you…?” He pressed a hand against my waist, drawing me in. “If you don't have anywhere else to go, why don't you–?” When I saw his eyes flicker past me to the townhouse, I knew right away what he was trying to ask. But I couldn't do that. Not now, not under these circumstances. It would be wrong on every level.

“I'm sorry, I actually should get going. It's late. Plus it's garbage day tomorrow and I'm sure Dad and Ade forgot to take the trash out. Again.”

I was rambling, but I waved awkwardly anyway, pretending nothing was wrong, and let his driver take me back over the bridge. Sighing, I lay my head against the glass window. A party this Saturday. It was the perfect opportunity to publically destroy someone. If I was going to carry out Anton's plan, then that was probably the time to do it.

Apparently, Anton thought so too. I saw my phone buzz just as I climbed into bed:
Lucien Restaurant. Noon tomorrow. Things to discuss. Wear something nice.

I buried my face in my pillow.

 

13

MISSION

 

“I said I'm here to meet someone. What, you don't believe me?”

The door guy at Lucien looked me up and down before curling up his pointed nose in a “polite” half-sneer – the kind of “polite” one used to poorly conceal one's disdain. That was fine with me; if I really did have to be at Anton's beck and call, then I sure as hell wasn't going to “wear something nice” whenever he ordered me to, the bastard.

So there I stood staring down the maître d' in a pair of beaten up jeans and stained T-shirt, half hoping he'd have security escort me out so I could have a valid excuse not to meet with Anton.

When I saw the man's sneer deepen, I shrugged. Oh well.
Can't say I didn't try, Anton.
“Well, if you really don't want me here, I guess I'll–”

“It's all right,” came a voice from the dining room.

I shuddered. Anton. Like a vampire, he materialized out of nowhere. My eyes flickered away from him almost immediately as he walked up to us, and I hated myself for it. Squeezing my hands into fists, I sucked in a deep breath and glared at him while he calmly told the maître d' that I was his “guest”. My fists twitched, my knuckles eager for blood.

“Follow me, Deanna.” And then he winked at me.

I sincerely hoped he could see the murderous dreams playing and replaying in my eyes. I followed him with plodding steps to his table in the corner of the dining room where three expensive-looking blondes in short, slinky dresses awaited us. They couldn't have been over seventeen.

“Deanna, please, sit.” He took his seat in between the three women, who grinned at me vacantly. Maybe they were swans too. Or maybe money was their aphrodisiac. Compliance could be bought just as easily as it could be forcibly taken.

As much as I bristled at being given another command, people were staring. So I sat, making damn sure my eyes stayed glued to his. I wanted him to see it; my hatred. I wanted to make sure he couldn't ignore it.

“If looks could kill,” Anton said while stroking Girl Number One's blonde locks. Giggling, she leaned over and, in a low voice, said something in Russian to Girl Number Two.

I watched her hair slip off his fingers and grimaced as if something had died in the pit of my stomach. “Then there'd be one less asshole in the world, now wouldn't there?”

The grin dropped from Anton's face and in that moment, my heart seized. Goading him probably wasn't the best idea. Still, I couldn't let him see me cower.

I eased back into my chair, cool, but not
too
cool lest he notice all the effort I was putting into it. “What do you want, Anton?”

He placed a card on the table. An invitation.

I frowned. “A party?” Probably the one Hyde had told me about yesterday. I feigned innocence.

“A masquerade party,” he said. “As far as opportunities go, it's more than a little perfect, wouldn't you say?”

A masquerade party. Though I'd never been to one, I'd seen enough on TV to know that the masks involved were perfect for evil schemes.

“It's Beatrice's idea.” When Anton spoke his stepmother's name, he looked somehow human. It was unnerving. “It was originally going to be a cocktail party, of course, but Beatrice's always had a flair for the dramatic.”

“Sounds try-hard,” I said flatly and watched his nostrils flair, though the rest of him remained perfectly still. “Sorry, I meant tired and cliché.” I couldn't stop.
Deanna, stop pissing off the bad man with the gun to your head.

Luckily for me, Anton shook it off with a readjusting tug of his suit. “It doesn't matter what you think of it. You're going.”

I turned the card over in my hand. “Yeah, I figured.”

“You've been doing a great job so far,” he continued, giving me that sidelong creeper-gaze of his. “Wooing our boy, I mean. Coney Island? A walk in the park? Nice touch. I always knew he was a simple, honest guy at heart. I'm sure he'll be honestly heartbroken when you ruin his life.”

I felt a cold shiver down my spine. Of course he'd been watching me. Part of me hadn't wanted to believe it. I folded my arms and maintained a steady glare. “OK. So party. What do you want me to do?”

“Direct and to the point. I like that about you.”

“Something we obviously don't have in common. What do you want me to do?” Or was his grandmaster plan to whittle down my psychological defenses with small talk? Aren't there easier ways to get someone to do what you want? Last time I checked, blackmail sufficed.

“Only what you've been so adept at doing so far. Seducing him.” He lowered his voice, which was unnecessary as we were safely tucked in a corner.

“Hyde'll be there. He'll take you. There's no way he won't ask you to come with him, if he hasn't already. Board members,
Bella
parasites, press, company employees and their drunken Botox-wives – all of them'll be there. There's no way in hell Hyde'll make a fool of himself in front of them – unless he's with you. He might let himself go if you give him the incentive.”

I focused on the invitation card because it was the only way to keep my eyes from burning. “And what exactly makes you so sure Hyde's gonna fall for my feminine wiles in a situation like that?” I thought back to last night – the hunger in his eyes, the request I couldn't bring myself to grant.