Goddamn you to hell, West Archer! Grumbling under my breath, I haul Betty to the elevator. Her busted wheel makes a strange squeaking noise with every rotation. I was so distracted by the thought of coming here today that I crashed into a post and fell into a muddy puddle, scraping my cheek on the pavement. I ignore the gawking faces of the employees I pass. I don’t give a tiny rat’s ass what they think of me or that I have mud and mascara streaks on my face. They can all go straight to hell alongside their three megalomaniac bosses.
By the time I get to the top floor, my emotions are about ready to boil over. Rage bubbles in my stomach, threatening to burst through my chest at any moment, but it’s tangled up among all my other emotions. The most pervasive being shame. I’m ashamed that I was such a damn fool. That I believed three of the most powerful men in the country could want me for more than just a little fun and that I allowed them to turn me into a crying, trembling mess almost every hour of every day. But riding shotgun with my anger and mortification is overwhelming misery. It’s not enough that these men humiliated and betrayed me, now they feel the need to continue making my life a goddamn misery. And for what? Their own twisted amusement?
The elevator doors ping open, and I stumble forward, pushing my broken bike out with me. I scan the empty hallway, my heart racing at the recollection of the last time I was here. I came to visit West and Xander at work, and I distinctly remember feeling like the luckiest girl in the whole goddamn world. Hindsight can be a sick son of a bitch.
Then I see him. His huge frame fills the hallway as he saunters toward me, a smile on his arrogant, entitled face. But then he sees my busted bike, my torn jeans, and his smile falters. “Lily?” He picks up his pace until he’s practically jogging down the hallway toward me. No doubt he’ll make himself feel all self-righteous with his show of concern.
I throw the parcel at him, and he catches it with ease, his brow furrowed. I stumble back from him. Screw the signature. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care.
“Lily,” he says again. “Are you hurt?”
“Screw you, West. Yes, I’m fucking hurt.” My words echo down the empty hall. “You nearly cost me my job today with your bullshit.” Tears drip from my eyes, and I swat them away with the back of my hand. I hate that he’s seeing me cry, but I’m done with trying to hide what a complete mess their little power games have turned me into. “I get that a few hundred bucks a week means nothing to you, but this is the only goddamn job I have. So the next time you think it will be fun to drag the poor stupid bitch you and your friends messed with over here just so you can admire your handiwork, do me a favor. Remember that this might be a game to you, but it is my fucking life, you entitled, conceited, entitled, self-obsessed, entitled prick!”
Spinning around, I drag my bike with me, but the stupid wheel grinds to a halt, refusing to move any further.
“Piece of shit!” I kick it over, and it hits the floor with a metallic crash. Tears blurring my vision, I stomp toward the elevator, vaguely aware of West calling my name again. He’s probably trying to tell me to take my piece of crap bike with me, but I ignore him. This is the last time I will allow him or his two psycho friends to get to me—the last fucking time.
Chapter
Fifty-Two
ZEKE
“Thank fuck you’re home. Where the hell have you been?” Xander asks, his brow furrowed.
Same place I always am lately, but he doesn’t need to know that. “What’s up?” Shrugging off my coat, I scan the entryway. Why haven’t the dogs come to greet me? “Where’s West?”
“In his office. I’ve never seen him like this, Z.” I follow him down the hallway to West’s office. We stop outside the closed door, and Xander lowers his voice. “Something happened today.” He scrubs a hand through his thick hair. “With Lily. He started drinking as soon as he got home.” He shoots me a worried look. “Whatever happened, it was bad. He’s had almost an entire bottle of Scotch.”
I push the door open. He’s slumped over his desk, muttering incoherently to himself, the two dogs sitting at his feet. I give them both an appreciative pat on the head and pick up the almost empty bottle of fifty-year-old Macallan. “You couldn’t drink yourself into a stupor with the cheap stuff? You had to take my twenty-five-thousand-dollar bottle of Scotch?”
He lifts his head, his red eyes swimming with tears. His tie hangs loose around his neck. “We broke her.”
I perch on the corner of his desk. “I know.”
“We fucking broke her, Zeke. We ruined her life.” A heaving sob wracks his body.
I glance over at Xander who’s gaping at the broken man before us. “He’ll be fine,” I assure him.
“No.” West shakes his head. “I … we fucking broke her … and she was perfect. She was …” His head drops back down on the desk.
I place my hand on the back of his neck and squeeze. “Then we’ll fix her, West.”
He sniffs loudly. “We can’t.”
“Z?” Xander says, his lip trembling.
“He’ll be fine,” I assure him again. “Help me get him to bed.”
Together, Xander and I lift a grumbling, sobbing West up from the chair. Each taking one arm, we drag him out of his office to the nearest bedroom, which happens to be mine. He rambles incoherently the entire time and is still going when we lie him down on the bed.
Turning, I put my hand on Xander’s shoulder and kiss his forehead. “Go get some sleep. I’ll take care of him.”
His blue eyes swim with tears. “I’ll help.”
“You know I’m good at taking care of people.” Knowing I’m right, he gives me a faint smile. “Go get some sleep, baby. No point in both of us being awake all night.”
He glances between me and West, who’s now passed out.
“Go. Take care of the dogs.”
Xander’s head drops in defeat, and I wrap my arms around him, pressing his face into my neck. His tears scald my skin. “He said he’d fix it, Z.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I nod. “I know.”
“What if he can’t?”
I squeeze him tighter but don’t respond. I don’t do false promises.
After finally persuading Xander to go to bed, I strip West down to his boxers, then kick off my shoes and climb into bed next to him. Sitting up with my back against the headboard, I pull him into my arms, resting his head on my chest. He grumbles a drunken protest, but he’s too wasted to offer any kind of resistance.
I brush his damp hair back from his head and cradle him in my arms. “Shut up, you drunk fucker.”
His pathetic glare almost makes me laugh. Seconds later, he passes back out.
I’ve only ever seen him cry once before in my entire life, and that was when Xander almost died from appendicitis. We might have broken her, but she broke us too. We’ve been living in a void since she left. No, not living, existing. Barely. Every spare hour I have is spent on her. Looking into her past, checking in on her. I’ve become her stalker, obsessed with all things Lily.
That’s how I knew she saw West today. I watched her leave our building, and she looked destroyed. Xander was working from home, so it could have only been West who put that look of torment on her face.
Maybe it’s time I stop watching her from the shadows. Time for me to fix this. For her, for Xander and West. For me.