Page 70 of When Sinners Hate
“Don’t. I need to see you, Lexi. Every word. Every reaction. So you’ll explain to me and look me in the goddamn eye while you do it. Because I’ll be able to tell the minute you think about holding back or lying.”
“Okay.” I squeeze my hands together in my lap and hold his gaze, blinking a few times as the salty tears swim in front of me.
“My father called me earlier today. He told me I had to help him with a family problem; with a deal Nicolas set up before he died. He told me I had to sleep with him, or more accurately, do whatever he wanted to keep him happy.” I watch Abel for a reaction, but there is none. “I told him no. It’s been a long time since he’s used me for that kind of thing, and the fact that he thinks he still can, made me angry and upset.” I focus on the facts, laying out the events and keep the emotional pain inside. I thought I was immune from further hurt at the hands of my father, but the anger inside of me tells me different. The blackness that I’d clawed my way free from is as pitch as ever, and when I think about him – my father – he’s at the heart of it. “He called again after I left you, around lunchtime, and wanted to make amends and talk. I swear, I told him I wasn’t interested in his plan. But I had promised him that if he was patient, he could have everything he ever wanted – expanding his business and bringing you down. It was part of my scheming, as you call it, to find your greatest weakness and exploit it.”
As I confess, I expect more of a reaction. I also feel guilty for ever thinking this way, but he asked for the truth, and I want to prove that I’m capable of that. “But, things have changed, and I’ve been struggling with who I am, as you’ve been pushing me to find out. I went to meet my father with no other intention than to see if we’d ever be on amicable terms. When I got to the bar, he was late. And when he showed up with no genuine reason to talk, I started to panic. I saw Andreas there.”
"Andreas?”
“He was at the meeting in San Diego. He’s worked for my father for years and is loyal and trustworthy. A quality lacking inmany of my father’s men. He shook his head, and that’s when I texted you.”
“Go on.”
“He introduced me to Mr Blackford. He shook my father’s hand, and then his men grabbed me and hauled me to the suite in the hotel.” Keeping my eyes fixed on Abel is exhausting and harder than I thought. He can see every slight reaction, every grimace play over my face. The beat of my heart has quickened, and I know my breathing has grown shallow.
“And,” he prompts.
I swallow before going on. “I struggled. Nobody seemed to care, and I was behind closed doors in minutes. The men came into the room and sat me in a chair to start. Blackford seemed to like the idea of control, and he had some sort of issue with you, or your family, according to my father. He talked for a while. Only I knew that’s not what I was there for. He told me about your view of drugs and that San Antonio was growing tired of your rules. He dismissed his men then. And that’s when his demeanour changed.” I close my eyes for a moment, and flashes of anger and pain blaze through my memory. “I tried to run first. I got to the door, but he grabbed my neck and shoved me against the door, pushing my face into it. He started to unzip my dress, so I kicked out at him until he let me go.” My hands are hot as I wring them together, and despite what Abel wanted, I have to look away, so I stand and pour myself a drink shakily.
The neat liquor burns as I down it, washing away the vile taste of the words I’ve already spoken.
He doesn’t tell me to sit back down, but I adjust so he can watch me as I continue the accounts. “I hit him and shoved him, but there weren’t a lot of places for me to escape in that room. He slapped my face and knocked me to the ground. I fought and struggled more than I ever have. I didn’t want this, and I wasn’t going to let it happen easily. He liked to hit me. And thenhe got on top of me. His hands went around my neck… and he squeezed. He’d wait until I thought I was going to pass out before he’d let go. That’s when he tore the rest of my dress. And, when he thought he could touch my body.”
Out of nowhere, Abel springs from his stance and swipes at the nearest surface, sending everything crashing to the ground. I jump at the noise and flinch away. He looks at me, and I stare at him. Maybe this is as uncomfortable for him as it is for me.
I nod to see if I should continue. “When I stopped coughing, I’d struggle again, and he’d go back to choking me. He repeated this a few times. He never got his dick out, though. I pretended to pass out on the last time, and when he let his grip slip, I kneed him and pushed him off. I ran to the bathroom but couldn’t lock him out. That’s when my phone rang. He’d have been a good client for the place you took me to.”
“You think this is a fucking joke?” He storms towards me, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. “Do you think I want to hear about a man touching what’s mine? About marking you?” Tears drop from my lashes onto my cheeks under his ferocity. And, a part of me wishes we could set aside the bad that’s between us.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m telling you every ounce of truth I have in the hope that you believe me.” My voice feels brittle as I speak – as if it might break and shatter at any point, along with my nerve.
He lets go and turns away, running his hands through his hair.
My shoulders slump. My body feels drained of all emotion and energy. It’s been overwhelming, and I feel unsteady on my legs as the adrenaline fades and a chill clings to my skin. He’s heard it all, as plainly as I can say, and waiting here for himto find me guilty or not is the final blow. “I think I want to go to bed.”
He stares at me, giving me nothing but pent-up frustration and fury that I don't think he knows what to do with. We’re locked in a stare as if waiting for something to happen. Hoping, perhaps.
“Go shower,” he eventually says, walking away to his bar. I nod and turn for the stairs, unsure what anything means yet. I’ve told my truth and given everything I can. “Come back here when you're done.”
CHAPTER TWENTY - THREE
ABEL
There isn’t a sound of a door closing to the bedroom, and it’s silent other than the faint sound of the shower running. I stare through the doors that lead to the pool, and down another drink. The glass gets abandoned, and I follow my view until I’m standing by the water. Rape. I’m incensed by it, no matter my own business. Not because of the potential act, but because it almost happened to someone I give a damn about. Again.
Thoughts of Mariana flick through my mind as I light a cigarette and breathe in deeply. She wasn't even born when I went inside, but I felt Dante’s wrath when he told me what they did to her. She became harsher after that, less sweet-natured. And then my thoughts run to the vision of Mother and her battered body when I found her that night. Her husband had done that to her. Emilio Cortez had been kicked out for cheating, and then he came back and took a woman as strong as her and demeaned her to nothing but broken limbs, broken skin and bruises.
Three days later, she told me he threatened us all that night. He’d already taken Elias from us, and unless she yielded and took him back, he’d take Dante and Knox, too. They were his, he said. We all were, including me, regardless of me not being a Cortez at all. He was going to try taking everything so he could leave her alone and destitute. Suffer, he said.
I killed him four days after that, as incensed in nature as I currently feel. I’d never killed before that, but my time inside was, and always will be, worth the pride of seeing him bleed out on the floor in front of me. I didn’t run from it or hide. I watched until the last of his heart gave in, needing to see it happen, and then sat and waited for the law to come get me. Stupid maybe considering I could have done it differently and gotten away with it, but I wasn't a thinker back then. It was all anger and pain and viciousness because no one takes my family away from me, let alone beats on the woman that brought me into this world.
No one touches something I love.
Time passes, and I end up sitting and looking at the debris on the floor from my temper. A broken vase. A glass object smashed that I didn’t choose. I don’t know how I feel about Lexi in totality, but I do know, without a shadow of fucking doubt, that that same feeling coursed through me when I saw her in that bathroom. It might have been mixed with distrust, but it still ravaged my bloodstream like a tornado trying to touch ground. It forced the need to destroy something that threatened me, or threatened something that was mine to protect. That’s love to me, or whatever guise of it a man like me possesses.
True silence comes after a while, and I stare at the stairs to wait for her. She was truthful earlier. She looked me straight on and told it like it happened. No fakery. No bullshit. No deceit. That’s all I’ve ever wanted her to give me. It’s a shame it tookher own father's violation for her to realise it, but I'm almost thankful for the behaviour.
She eventually creeps down the stairs, quiet and barely able to look at me. I follow her with my gaze the entire way until she stalls. “Come here.”