Shout (The Voice Trilogy Book 3) (2 page)

CH. 1

Twelve days. Two hundred and eighty-eight hours, seventeen thousand two hundred and eighty minutes. Thirty-five hours of sleep, three bottles of scotch, and one wounded man.

The first two days are blurred, my world had never been quite so dark; my heart slowed, my mind wandered and got lost somewhere. Tangled in the depths of blue the likes of which I had never experienced, a formless mass of disbelief, denial and anger. Day three I had no choice but to pull myself up.

I knew that even in the shallow pits of my personal despair a bigger storm was brewing, and if I didn’t monitor the situation it was bound to get out of hand. I packed a bag and headed to the Hamptons and into the clutches of the succubus. I wasn’t going to allow Nadja to be alone with my mother. The weekend in the Hamptons was a bad idea, but I inserted myself in the middle. I should have known what to expect, I
did
know what to expect, and yet, I let my fucking guard down.

We had just finished a marathon poker tournament and I was several scotches down, my pockets were significantly lighter, and I was completely distracted. The long walk from the main house to the pool house did nothing to help me focus; I was getting fuzzier as the minutes passed. I didn’t remember leaving the sliding glass doors open to the pool, but I could see the god-awful gauzy blue curtains blowing in the breeze. As I slipped inside, I quickly pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it over the back of the couch and made my way towards the bathroom and a cool shower.

              Under the pounding water I closed my eyes and pictured Sophie; her soft skin, the curve of her hip, the twist of her smile, fuck, I missed her. I let my mind wander and I begged the water to wash clean my liquor soaked heart; her smile, her smell, her taste. Yet, with every memory of her came a nightmare that starred Nadja.  When I closed my eyes, I saw her smug face and then Sophie’s shocked horror.

I scrubbed my skin raw as anger stoked under the falling water, doing my best to wash myself clean of Nadja. exiting the shower, I fucking slammed the glass door and made it rattle and bow. I wiped the water away from my body, and examined myself in the mirror, but something was missing; forever missing, the warm caress of her hands around my belly, the soft press of her round breasts against my back.

All the reasons Sophie was not here came rushing into my mind, and when I stumbled out of the bathroom there she was,
the reason
. Nadja lay draped across my bed like a teenaged girl, legs kicked in the air and her chin rested in her palms. She winked and cat called before I was aware of my nakedness and I quickly pulled on a pair of shorts. This was all because of
her
. I cannot help but tally every little thing Nadja has done to throw a wrench in my relationship with Sophie. Every underhanded move she ever made was all calculated and executed with precision.

“What are you doing here, Nadja?”

              “Kylie wasn’t feeling well and I’m bored. I thought we could have a drink.”

              “No, Nadja, I don’t want to have a drink with you. I have had quite enough and would love nothing more than to put a cap on this day. Now, if you don’t mind…” I extended my arm and wavered slightly as I pointed towards the door, but she just grinned and tucked her legs beneath her, digging her heels in, denying my not so subtle request. With a heavy sigh, I resigned myself and knew if I wanted to get rid of her, I first would have to give in. I walked to the kitchen to pour her a drink. When I turned around, she was right behind me, a shadow, she mirrored my every move, a darkness that followed me, unshakeable. I pushed a glass into her hand and waited, but she just stood there, watched me; her fake passive mask barely held in place.

              “Won’t you drink with me? I do hate to drink alone.” I stood still and watched her eyes as they flared, as she struggled to maintain her syrupy sweet demeanor. “I believe Bianca would be appalled by your hospitality, Rhys.”

“Then the feeling would be mutual. I am often appalled by
her
brand of hospitality, but if it will get you out of here sooner I’ll have one drink. I’m going to grab a shirt.” Wanting nothing more than to hide myself from her sickly possessive gaze, I stomped into my room and ripped a T-shirt from its hanger. I tugged it angrily over my head before I lost my foot and fell to the bed. God damn it, I was in no mood and in no state for her right then. White hot anger churned with the scotch and I was tired, tired of this damn dance, tired of being forced into corners by her behavior; one drink.

When I returned to the kitchen, she was seated at the table with two rocks glasses in front of her. As I took my seat, she pushed one of the glasses in my direction and grinned.

              “Just a drink, Rhys, nothing more.” Her sickly sweet smile turned my delicate stomach and I bit back a gag.

              “You will forgive me if I don’t take you at your word.” I swirled the scotch around the glass and watched her take a deep drink.

              “I’ll always forgive you, Rhys, I often wonder, though, if you would afford me the same courtesy.”

              “And what, pray tell, do you have to forgive me for?”

              “Come now, Rhys, you cannot believe yourself completely blame free?”

I lifted the glass to my lips in an attempt to silence my surely forked tongue and she helped as she tipped the glass to my lips with her fingers.

              “That’s it, Rhys, drink up. I just want to talk.” I let the scotch luge down my throat, the whole glass, one gulp, and she released her held breath. “Now that we have that over with, let’s talk about Sophie, shall we?” And at the mere mention of her name, as the angelic sound passed through the gates of Hell, I lost my temper and everything became a blur.

              “Don’t you talk about her, Nadja, don’t you dare.” The cool malice in my voice took me by surprise and the air chilled between us. I pushed back from the table and stand with a sway while Nadja remained in her seat.

“She is a child, Rhys, a nobody’s child, and she will never be good enough for you. I am sorry to say, but you are making a fool out of yourself.” I grabbed her chair and pulled her out from the table. She stood and I placed my hand firmly on her back gently shoving her towards the sliding glass door and the open pool deck.

              “You have to go,” I growled as we approached the open door.

              “Rhys, wait!” she yelled, feigning fear, as she tried to pull at my heartstrings, but she cut those strings a long time ago. I am so far past the end of my rope nothing she could say will pull me back.               She tried to push against me to stop me from pushing her, but I was determined. As we made it to the door, she pushed back against me with all her might and forced me to push back, and she lost her footing. I grabbed her by the arm to stop her from falling but she ripped herself from my hands, which sent her slight frame hurling towards the door jamb where she crumbled to the floor. I stopped and watched her like a slow motion movie. She looked up into my eyes with first a smile, a smile that chilled my blood and then she erupted into tears, her face cradled in her hands.

              “Rhys, how could you?” She scurried to her feet while I stood cemented in place, unbelieving. “I can’t believe this is who you’ve become. You are not the man I used to love.” She turned and rushed out in dramatic fashion, which left me stunned, confused and even fuzzier than before she arrived. I barely made it back to the bedroom before everything faded to black.

              When I awoke on Sunday, I had slept through brunch and a large chunk of my memory was missing. Kylie was noticeably upset, saying that Nadja left in the night with only a note of apology, explaining she had booked a last minute job.
Thank God for that.
After eighteen holes of golf and a light supper, it was time to go back to the city, back to reality. Monday could not come soon enough.

CH. 2

Monday morning, she rolls into my office like a dark cloud, large glasses covering her eyes and a loose sweater wrapped around her shoulders. She sits before my desk and slowly lowers her glasses, revealing the shadow of a black eye and I notice the remnants of a split lip. Her skin is sallow and dull and she looks like she hasn’t slept in days, I push back from my desk stunned.

              “What has happened to you?” Shock is evident in my tone, but her face is passive.

              “You really don’t remember?” Her pale lips twist in a cool smirk.

              “Remember what? What are you talking about, Nadja?”

              “Rhys, you did this,” she pauses and touches her cheek for effect, “you did this to me.”

              “What the hell are you saying?”

              “Saturday night you invited me back to the pool house and we had a drink. We were making up.” The unbruised side of her mouth twists with an oddly sweet grin. “We made up a few times actually.” As she says it, I am racking my brain while my stomach turns, combing through memories and Saturday is blank. I played poker, everything else is black;
this is not happening, this did not happen.
I calmly push my chair back from my desk and stand slowly, watching her every move. She flinches and sinks back in her chair as I walk around my desk, and I am thrown when she feigns fear. I think better of getting any closer and instead turn my back.
This cannot be happening
. I struggle and fight to recall Saturday night and can’t. Poker, scotch, nothing,
fuck
! What the hell have I done? I turn back towards her and she is watching me with baited breath.

              “I have absolutely no recollection of what you’re accusing me of, Nadja.”

              “Are you calling me a liar, Rhys? Look at me, did I do this to myself?” She raises her voice for a short moment before quickly lowering her volume, but dialing up the menace. “You believe what you want to believe, Rhys, but the damage is done. All I need is to be photographed like this and people will start asking questions. Shall I direct them to you?”

              “You wouldn’t!” The words fall out in a desperate rush.

              “I would,” she says with a raised eyebrow, “I think we both know that. Now, I am tired of these games, Rhys. I am willing to take you back and to forget this ever happened.”

              “What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, as my world spins off its axis.

              “I will protect your secret, Rhys. I will protect us,” she says, standing up slowly, prowling towards me. She rests her hands on my shoulders and whispers into my ear, “I won’t let anyone know what kind of man you really are. We can fix this together. I promise, baby, it will all be alright.” I back away from her and see nothing but evil flickering in her eyes, her dull, blackened eyes.
I did that?

              “We will get through this together and we will be stronger for it, you’ll see.” She reaches up to cup my cheek and I catch her by the wrist, watching it in slow motion. My fist closes around her bony arm and she smiles with a gleeful umbrage that would frighten the devil.
Fuck, what have I done?
 

              The next few days are agony as she holds her bruises over me, reminding me every day of the jobs she had to cancel or risk
me
being discovered. Drowning in guilt and confusion and doubt, I think of Sophie, her sprinting across the grass that night, the fear in her eyes, the relief when our eyes met, the way she trembled in my arms.
How could I have done this?

              I get a sick relief when Nadja leaves town for a few days and I am finally rid of the sight of her. I could never be good enough for Sophie. Would she ever forgive me? There’s no way, I am trapped.

              The relief almost drowns me when I hear from Nadja that she will be taking a week of rest with her mother. Every morning I send Sophie a message, a lie. I cannot let her go. I cannot get her out of my head. I need to get her back. Every day, I fight a battle between the swell of my heart for the growing love I have for Sophie and the ever growing pit of despair and guilt I have, eating me alive, over what I’ve done to Nadja. I tap out my morning message to Sophie as I sit at my desk.             

Good Morning, Beautiful. I don’t know about you, but I have not been sleeping well, my bed

feels so empty without you….

              “Good morning, Mr. Slate.” Nina enters my office with a nod and my espresso. Placing the cup on the corner of my desk, she goes about her morning routine, raising all the blinds, sorting my mail and looking over my shoulder as I plead for Sophie’s return. When my phone rings, my heart leaps into my chest. Finally, I am able to say the words I have been dying to say.

              “Good Morning, Beautiful.” The faint sound of her breathing slides through the phone and she comes rushing back into my bloodstream. Like a shot of adrenaline, my heart beats stronger and I am alive again. I didn’t realize how much I need her, what strength she brings. I want to tell her she is beautiful every day. I want her back.

              “Good morning,” her soft whisper breaks my heart.

              “I miss you, Sophie.”

              “I miss you, too.”
Oh, thank God!

              "I want you to come back and stay in New York. Please, come back.” I take a deep, cleansing breath. The deepest breath I have taken in ages and all at once I am full and so empty, waiting with baited breath for her answer.

              “Rhys.”

              “Sophie,” I cut her off, unable to hold back another moment; “I love you.”

              I tell her I love her and that I want her back.
Now.
I didn’t realize how heavy those words have been on my heart until I say them aloud, literally setting myself free. And then she says them back. I must have left my body for a moment, elated.