Page 41 of Forbidden Eyes
I always knew there was a dark reason behind the fearful looks and respect my father commanded in a city that led the rest of the world, but I never thought this would be the source of that power. Corrupt business dealings and bribes, politicians in his back pocket. That was where my mind took me over the years and what I deduced for myself, but a drug lord? Some kind of mob boss?
Never.
I bring my hand to the dressings over my chest and grit my teeth. Part of me wants to rip them off and take a look at what that monster did to me, but as I pick at one of the edges, my hand starts to shake, and I can’t go through with it.
I draw in a breath and think about everything that’s changed tonight. My entire life—my entire world—has been built on what I’m now actively trying to reverse. My father’s money has put me on the path I’m on today. It's a path that, if I’m successful, will lead to the first real advancements in synthetic drug production in the last fifteen years. Sure, there are products that are safer and deemed less addictive on the market, but they aren’t what people want. There have been fights against legalisation, medical requirements, but there has never been something that can safely synthesise the same high and work to combat the drug problem that has only grown over the last ten years. Supply and demand—a simple equation I wish with everything in my heart didn’t apply here.
People turn to drugs for several reasons, and the chemical reaction in the brain ensures that they keep coming back for more. But if that can be controlled? If that can be reproduced in a safe environment, licensed even? Dread hits my guts as I remember Carter’s words; my father expects to be at the forefront of that discovery as well, doesn't he?
“Arghhh,” I scream at the ceiling.
When I left to come and see Uncle Quinn, I never thought these would be the answers to all of the questions that have plagued me. I wanted to learn, to see what I could do with a business I knew next to nothing about. And now I know exactly why I've been kept in the dark.
Bitterness creeps into my heart. I can’t do anything about my father at the minute, but I can do something about Carter.
I push off the bed, adrenaline giving me courage I normally struggle to find, and work my way out of my room to go stand right in front of his. This might be the only opportunity I have to be with Carter. Sure, losing my virginity to a guy like him under these circumstances isn’t exactly what I’ve always dreamed of, but then I’m well aware that fairy tales don’t exist. Certainly, not anymore. What I do know is that I’ve never felt the way I did when Carter touched me. It made me feel alive, and that was with our clothes still on. We’ve been attracted to each other from the first moment, magnets drawn to each other, at least in my mind. Why can’t I pursue that?
My hand pushes down on the handle but meets resistance. It doesn’t budge. It’s locked. He’s locked me out? I don’t know if I should sigh in relief or be heartbroken. He said on the journey back that he didn’t regret anything that happened between us. But how can I believe that when he’s locked me out?Or locked himself in?
I rush back to my room, humiliated at the thought he doesn't want me and desperate to hide away and forget about him—about what my body wants.
When I come across a problem at college, I look at it logically. I analyse it, view it from different viewpoints and apply reason to come up with an answer that is either right or wrong. That approach doesn’t help here. The little girl I've tried so hard to grow from, to shed her skin and become the woman I am, is back again, pointing her finger at me and laughing.
* * *
My red-rimmed eyes stare back at me from the bathroom mirror. I don’t think I slept for more than a few minutes at a time the whole night. Shadows plagued my dreams, unfamiliar faces stalking over me and threatening, the glint of a blade and the flash of pain. Every time I woke up, I hoped Carter would be standing over me or sitting in the corner of the room, but he wasn’t. He hadn’t changed his mind and now, the hope that I’ll find him has soured to something acrid and painful in my chest.
I shove the few items I brought with me into a bag, and dress in a plain T-shirt, careful to hide the bandages that I’ve still not worked up the courage to remove. The dress is left in a crumpled heap on the floor. It won’t bring me anything but bad memories of what happened to me when I wore it, both with and without Carter. With my bags packed, the cold hard facts of what this trip has meant encroach further into my mind. There are two important conversations I need to have, and I’m not sure that one of them won’t end up in all-out war. My father isn’t one to be challenged, but there is no way I’m allowing him to brush this under the carpet or refuse to answer my questions.
Not this time.
The smell of coffee drifts through the suite, and I follow it over to the dining area where there’s a feast of breakfast items laid out. My body wants to freeze when I see Carter already dressed in an impeccable suit at the table, a knife and fork crossed over an empty plate and his eyes busy looking over his tablet.
“Good morning.” I quickly take a seat and pour myself a much-needed cup of coffee. “What time do we leave?”
Carter looks up from his tablet, and I’m pleased to see his usually bright eyes are shadowed this morning. Did he have trouble sleeping as well? I choose to believe it was because of me because, well, my ego needs the boost to make it through the next few hours with him.
“As soon as you’re through with breakfast, the jet’s on standby. You don’t get a choice about going home today.”
“Fine.”
I open one of the cloches on the table, but choose a bowl of strawberries instead, my hunger apparently evaporating at his sharp tone. The silence between us lingers in the air like a misty cloud, threatening to rain at any moment.
After I drain my coffee and I’ve picked at a handful of strawberries, I stand, head to my room to collect my packed bag, and return to the doorway. “Ready.” I stand and wait.
Without missing a beat, Carter stands and walks right past me to collect his bag from his room. He’s gone a few minutes, and then he’s back and heading to the elevator. He stands so I can’t see his face. It’s the same on the elevator ride down. He doesn’t look towards me, doesn’t ask questions, no interaction of any kind. As if last night never happened.
In one way, it makes it easier. After all, nothing did happen in his world, I guess. He made me come. It was an orgasm. Nothing more. He didn’t promise me anything, despite what I may have wanted.
I stare out of the window of the car, not taking in any of the scenery. My mind whirls over what I’ve done wrong, and why I couldn’t be like the countless girls Carter’s taken to bed.
“Stop frowning.”
“Excuse me?” My eyes slant towards his.
“Stop frowning. It doesn’t suit you.”
“And what would you know about what suits me?” I challenge.