“I don’t care. I have other things on my mind right now that are far more important than some job.”
“You don’t want the money?” he asks. “You just got out of jail, Nix. You need something.”
I sigh. “Like I said … I don’t need anyone or anything right now. I just wanna be left alone.”
“So, you don’t want to work for us anymore? Because you know what happens if you don’t …”
“I said not now! I didn’t say never,” I say.
“Then when will you be able to resume work?”
“Soon,” I say. “I’ll contact you.”
“Fine. But I gotta warn you, Nix, the boss isn’t going to like this.”
“Too bad. And don’t call this number again until I call you first. It’s way too risky.”
I turn off the phone and tuck it back into my pocket, taking a deep breath. That goddamn phone … I knew I should’ve gotten a brand new one. They sent this old one to me after I got out of jail. It was DeLuca who picked up the goods in a PO box. No wonder. Son of a bitch.
Well, no matter. They know what I’m doing now. I know Antonio could hear the screams, so the organization should know I shouldn’t be disturbed right now. Which means I’ll have plenty of time to toy with my princess.
But first … I need to go pick up something special. Something that will make this playtime even better.
***
VANESSA
Thirty minutes later
The pain is unbearable, and the fact that I don’t know how long it’ll last only makes it harder. I scream because my body commands me too, not because I believe it’ll end my suffering any sooner. Pain shoots through my veins when I think of why I’m here. This is my own doing. My punishment for trying to persuade him to give me what I want.
It’s how I’ve always been, how my mother made me. Someone who manipulates others into doing what they want. But Phoenix doesn’t fall for it … he never did. He always sees through the lies, which makes it all the more bittersweet.
He knows me too well.
This pain is my own fault.
I thought I could beat him at his own game.
My lifestyle comes with a price, and I’m paying for it in full now.
If only I had made a different choice.
***
Age 17
Phillip and I walk hand in hand as he shows me around his house. It’s huge, and I can’t believe I might live here one day. His parents say he’ll earn it once he’s head of the business his father owns. They don’t like maintaining the mansion, so to them this is the perfect solution. To me it’s like a dream come true.
“This is the foyer,” Philip says, as I walk through.
“Wow … it’s amazing,” I say.
Everything I touch feels velvety, and everything within eyesight looks expensive. From the corner of my eye, I spot Arthur reading a book while sitting in a chair, observing us closely. Well, mostly me. His constant glare makes me blush, so I turn my head away and look at Phillip.
“Why’s your brother looking at me like that?” I whisper.
He leans in. “Well, he’s kind of jealous that I have you.”
The smile on Phillip’s face makes me turn even redder. “Why? I mean, he looks like the kind of guy who could get any girl he wants.”
“Hmm … if you say so,” Phillip muses. “My brother just likes things he can’t have.”
“Like me?” I ask.
“Anything I have. You. The company. My life.” Phillip smiles at his brother, which makes him lower his eyes and dive back into his book. “Arthur’s always been hunting after whatever my parents give me.”
“Okay … no wonder.”
“But he’s not going to get it.”
I swallow. “What do you mean?”
Phillip narrows his eyes. “My father’s business is mine. I will take over as CEO after I graduate school, learn to direct a movie, and make my family proud. I’m everything they want in a son. Arthur … well, let’s just say that he always comes second.”
“Of course, he’d be jealous,” I say. “You have everything he wants. What anyone would want.”
“Exactly, which is why I intend to keep him as far away as possible.” The darkness in his voice gives me the creeps. Something tells me that they don’t really get along. There’s a lot of rivalry going on, I can tell. And yet, I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to Arthur than what Phillip tells me. There is always more to a story than just one side.
Phillip places his hand in the small of my back and directs me away from the foyer before I get the chance to ask more questions. He escorts me to the kitchen where his mother is pouring drinks for the guests outside. They’re hosting a party for a lot of people, to which my family was also invited. My parents thought it was a perfect way for Phillip and me to connect a little.
“Oh, Vanessa,” his mother says when she turns her head. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” I say. “Phillip was just showing me around your beautiful home.”
“Thank you, dear. You look lovely in that dress,” she says.
She fishes in her pocket and takes out some sort of small vial, opens the cap, and pours the contents into one of the drinks.
“What is that?” I mumble to Phillip.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” he says.
A smile appears on his mother’s face as she picks up the tray and walks over to us.
“My dear, would you be so kind as to hand these out to the guests outside?”
“Of course,” I say.
“Sorry to ask; it’s just that we’re so busy here.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say, as I take the tray.
“Oh, and can you make sure that this glass is served to the lady in the bourgeois dress, the one with the fur collar.” She points at the specific glass that had the extra contents poured in.
I nod, frowning, confused as to what the idea is.
“Let’s go,” Phillip says, guiding me outside again. “We don’t want to keep our guests waiting.”
Before I know it, I’m outside on the porch, walking toward the table where the woman in the bourgeois dress is sitting. The closer I get, the more I seem to recognize her. She reminds me of one of those women my father had a debate with on national television, where they both strive for the same position. Only when I’m next to her do I realize that it is really her.
The woman looks up at me. My lips part, but the air seems to be stuck in my throat. I turn my head to glance at Phillip, who’s standing near the door with his hands in his pockets, watching me intently. From the look in his eyes, I can tell that he’s challenging me … telling me to make a decision.
This is it. This is what it’s coming down to. The evil that surrounds me has forced me into a position where I must choose between right and wrong.
My mother once warned me about this. She told me there would always come a moment when I had to make a choice. One or the other, the choice is easily made, but the consequences are unbearable. Family and fortune or loneliness and poverty. If I don’t do this, I’ll lose my family, my current life, and they’ll probably kill Miles. If I do it, it means I get to keep everything but lose my innocence. My virtue.
What follows is inevitable.
Someone will die. Miles or this woman. Me or my family. What do I choose?
One life for the other.
When I turn back to face the woman, she says, “Finally, our drinks have arrived.”
My fingers hover close to two glasses, trembling with fear as I must make the ultimate choice. I tell myself I can do it. I can’t. I can do it. I can’t.
And then the choice is made for me.
The woman picks up the glass. I hold my breath as my eyes skid from the glass on the tray to the one in her hand. She brings it to her lips, and for a moment, my heart stops beating. Make a choice. Make a choice, Vanessa. Do it!
Then she takes a sip.
Seconds feel like minutes as I spin on my heel in horror, walking away from the crime scene that everyone’s about to witness. Soon, I can already hear her choking. It doesn’t take long for the glass to drop from her hand and for the crowd to begin screaming.