Vera

Sunday, November 13

Iwasn’t the only one who worked on Sunday afternoons. A few of my colleagues, including my boss, were in the office, dressed casually instead of in our usual business attire. Just as I reviewed documents that needed signing, I heard a familiar baritone voice call out my name.

“Vera.”

There he was, drawing one foot back and forth in an imaginary line, while his hands remained in his jeans pockets. His gray T-shirt emphasized his toned physique and contrasted well with his bright eyes. He wore his signature Rolex. The tight ache in my heart plummeted to my stomach, releasing an intense craving for the man whose hair showed glints of gold.

I placed my pen on my desk and straightened my back. “Mister Scott, is there anything I can do for you? Brenton is in his office if you need to see him.”

“I want to see you,” Alistair said. He moved toward me like a panther prowling in the jungle, hunting for prey.

“No,” I answered. I shook my head and folded my arms. “Not now.”

“I need to talk to you, sweetheart.”

I stood up and started marching toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Alistair asked, grabbing my hand. I shook it off as if it were poison.

Distancing myself from Alistair’s nearness, I placed my hands on my hips and sighed. “I need to get some air.”

“Would you like to grab some coffee together?”

“No.”

“Why not? It’ll just be coffee.”

“Why not? Hmm, let me think.” I paused, then released a breath of hot air. “You played me. First, I’m not a rich man’s toy you can pick up and drop when it suits you. Second, your psychotic girlfriend, oh right, sister-in-law or whatever the hell she is, came to my home and threatened me.”

“I had no idea she would pull something like⁠—”

“Third, you and Erin are expecting a baby. When’s the baby due?”

“In December. She and Oliver are expecting the child because I signed away my rights.”

“You shy away from responsibility.” I jabbed my forefinger at his chest.

“Oliver has Klinefelter syndrome.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a chromosomal disorder,” he answered. “It causes abnormal development of the male reproductive organs. In other words, Oliver is infertile.”

“Oh,” I whispered, barely moving my lips. It made sense why Oliver was willing to take the child as his own. He wanted an heir, and Erin’s infidelity with Alistair was the golden opportunity. I bet Erin knew on the night she conceived. “Thank you for the explanation, Mister Scott. Now, if you don’t mind, I don’t need the drama that comes with you.”

“Vera. Call me Alistair.”

“I don’t address strangers by their first names,” I retorted, still pissed at the man. My feelings were off-key, and my emotions became irrational in love and war.

“We’re hardly strangers.” Alistair smiled, leaning closer to me. The smooth touch of his thumb running along my face was enough to tranquilize the raging beast of my angry hormones that were ready to explode.

“Alistair,” I said with a loud sigh. Why did I feel as if there was an invisible rope from him to me, binding our souls?

“Are you seeing anyone?” he questioned. His eyes pierced mine while he caressed my cheekbones.

“Yes, there’s someone I see on a casual basis, but it’s not a relationship.”

“What’s his name?”

“Does it matter?”

“I want him out of your life,” Alistair ordered. He released a small chuckle and lifted my chin, murmuring, “Vera, Vera.”

“Her name’s Holly,” I said. “Holly James. A doctor I met at a social event. Petite with sky blue eyes, blonde curls, and pouty lips. I even mentioned her that night we caught up for drinks after your date didn’t work out. Remember?” A smile tugged at my mouth. “Funny thing? The one topic Holly and I clicked on was you. She hears gossip about your family through her friends, who are supposed to be in your circle.”

“Is it serious with her?”

“No. We meet up, and we fuck. That’s it. Is there anything else you want to ask?”

“Have you fucked another man?” Alistair cornered me, his hands stroking down my arms, breath growing heavier.

I stayed silent.

“Vera?” His voice sharpened. “Have you slept with another man?”

“Yes.” The word slipped out, jagged.

“Fuck.” He tipped his head back, jaw tight, raking both hands through his hair.

I fired back. “Have you slept with another woman?”

“Yes.” His five o’clock shadow grazed my cheek as his forehead pressed against mine.

“Was it Erin?”

“No. Just a few one-night stands.”

“Just a few?” A bitter laugh caught in my throat as my fingers curled into the sleeve of his shirt. “You’re changing, Scotty.”

“There’s nothing between Erin and me.” His eyes bore down on me, drilling my soul. “She’s my ex-girlfriend who’s now married to my brother. That’s all she is and all she’ll ever be.”

“Alistair,” My voice thinned, heat racing through me as his scent wrapped around me, dark and familiar.

“Did you miss me?” he murmured, his lips dragging against my neck. “Because I’ve missed you. More than you know.” His body pressed into mine, his grip claiming every curve. “You can’t imagine what it did to me, thinking I’d never see you again. Saying I missed you doesn’t even come close.”

“You’re not good for me,” I whispered, even as my lips burned against his. He swallowed my protest, deepening the kiss, his tongue fierce, hungry, demanding mine. Time blurred, stretching like it wanted us trapped there forever, locked in that desperate, reckless embrace.

Sense clawed its way back. I pulled away, breath ragged, his eyes dark and wild with a desperation that scared me as much as it thrilled me.

“Don’t pull away,” he pleaded. “I’m still crazy about you. Possessively crazy.”

“I’m at work. Brenton’s office is just down the hall, and if he catches us⁠—”

“Vera, please,” Alistair begged. He pressed his body into mine, groped my ass with one forceful hand, and squeezed my left breast with the other hand. His grip caused ferocious pain, making me yelp.

“Stop.” I raised my hand, signaling him to stop right there. “You’re hurting me.”

“Oh, shit. Shit, I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s been too long, and I struggle with control.”

“You do not get to touch me that way,” I hissed, recoiling from Alistair. Memories of Ace flooded my head, pounding with the painful recollection of his abusive nature.

“I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again,” Alistair apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“I can’t do this. We’re better apart,” I whispered, breath catching on the wreck of feelings tearing through me.

“Old sport, I thought you got lost on the way up here. Do you still want to see me about your case?” a familiar voice asked.

Alistair and I spun toward the doorway. Brenton leaned against the frame, eyebrows lifted, mouth tight. My boss wasn’t an idiot—he’d walked in at the worst possible moment.

“McCormick.” Alistair cleared his throat, nodding as if nothing was amiss. I fumbled with my denim skirt, tugging it down, heat still burning across my lips.

“You might want to button your blouse,” he murmured against my ear before striding over to greet his buddy with a pat on the back, smooth as ever.

I looked down and noticed Alistair had unbuttoned my garment, revealing a little lace. Guard your heart, a silent voice whispered. A storm is coming.

Guard your heart.

Vera

January 1

“Shit, my shoe.” I stumbled like a giraffe with a pair of pumps on the velvet carpet at the crowded entrance of the New Year’s Day ball. Discomfort radiated from my heels to my toes.

“Oh, sweetie, please don’t tell me you’ve ruined another pair of Jimmy Choos,” Mindy lamented, flicking back her long, dark hair.

“Welp, it wouldn’t be the first time,” I snapped, adjusting the strap on my left heel.

“You’re lucky you’re tall. I could use some of your height,” she remarked, admiring my calves.

“Honey, it’s more a curse than a blessing when most of the men I’ve dated are shorter than me,” I replied. Alistair was the exception. He stood taller than me, even when I wore high heels.

“Where’s Saph tonight?” Mindy asked when we were inside, getting a drink at the bar.

“She’s sick. We ate out a few days ago, and the meal she ate had wheat, though she had asked for it to be gluten-free.”

“Poor thing. How about Julian? Is he doing anything?”

“He’s taking Mom out for dinner.”

“He could have joined us,” Mindy suggested.

“So I could be the third wheel? No thanks. Besides, your hookups with him are prehistoric, long before he dated Saph. You need to date more often.”

“I know, I know. How about you? Are you seeing anyone lately?”

I smiled at Mindy and said nothing, prompting her to nudge my elbow.

“You can tell me. I won’t tell a soul,” she whispered.

I slowly sipped my champagne, then replied, “I’m casually seeing someone, but it’s not serious. She’s dealing with some family issues tonight.”

“No relationship is ever serious with you.”

I raised my left eyebrow as my lips curled into a smirk. If she only knew the truth. I already cried my sad tears over a particular Mister Scott, but that was my secret to keep. A bachelor auction was part of the evening’s agenda. The names of the city’s most eligible bachelors appeared on a massive television screen above us, and there it was.

Alistair Scott.

“Great,” I muttered.

“What’s up?” Mindy asked.

“Oh, nothing. It’s not important.”

“Mmm, a bachelor auction and all proceeds go to the Scott Charity for Kids,” she read the text on the screen aloud and smiled. “The men are rich and hunky too.”

Grabbing my hand, Mindy guided me past the crowd and toward the stage where the auction was about to start. I noticed gorgeous women flirting with the rich, handsome, and available bachelors. There he was, looking dashing and dapper, as always. Except, he wasn’t alone. A journalist interviewed him for the local news.

“That’s Alistair Scott,” Mindy exclaimed, eyes round like saucers. “He’s untouchable and out of bounds.”

“Oh? What do you mean, Mindy?” I asked.

“Well, I mean, look at him. He could have stepped out of a magazine. But it’s not just his looks. I heard that it takes months to get one minute with him.”

“Interesting,” I mused, pretending I’d never met the guy. I used this trick to fish for information from people. “What else do you know of him?”

“Alistair is a philanthropist and an investor, but I heard he’s connected with the mafia. Plus, rumor has it he pays a well-known biker gang to do his dirty work.”

“Hmm.”

“There’s no proof, though. It’s just gossip, you know?”

“Gossip is dangerous. Someone may accuse you of defamation,” I warned.

“Oh, crap. I left my handbag back at the bar,” Mindy said. “Stay right here, I’ll be back.”

“Sure,” I replied, about to head to the restroom.

“Well, well, the town’s trash has arrived,” Erin’s shrill voice sang out.

Great, just fucking great. The bitch and a bunch of her friends stood a few feet away, eyeing me from top to toe. Having recently given birth, Erin nevertheless looked beautiful in a flowing, white blouse and a pair of loose pants that showed off her long legs. She had a light pink pram by her side.

“Is that the whore you were telling me about?” Erin’s blonde friend with a Dior handbag squawked, inspecting me as if I were vermin.

“Shh, it’s not nice to talk about other people,” Erin reprimanded, half-smiling.

“I heard you’d been stalking Erin’s brother-in-law,” a brunette with a blunt fringe blurted. “Valerie, is that your name?”

“Vera,” Erin corrected.

“Poor Scotty. All the gold diggers in town relentlessly pursue him,” the blonde butted in.

Ignoring the blonde, I turned to Erin and pointed at her pram. “Congratulations on becoming a mother.”

“Would you like to see the baby? Here she is,” Erin cooed, lifting an infant out of the pram.

The golden-haired cherub snuggled into Erin’s bosom, vulnerable and fragile, yet so pure and innocent. Her tiny fingers stretched, then curled as her ruddy face released a small yawn. That was Alistair’s child. The baby had his bright eyes and curly hair. Alistair had made Erin a mother. He gave her what he didn’t want with me.

I gazed at the child, feeling a tug of love for the helpless innocent. “Your daughter is beautiful. What’s her name?”

“Her name is Camilla,” Erin boasted. “I didn’t think you were into babies. You don’t seem like the mothering type.”

“What exactly is ‘the mothering type’?” I glared at the bitch.

“Oh, I don’t know. Just not you,” she replied, her mouth twisting downward in displeasure. She readjusted her hold on the girl, who opened her eyes and balled her fists, preparing for a cry.

“I think the bright lights in this room are a bit harsh for the baby,” I said as Camilla wailed in discomfort.

“Don’t give me parenting lessons, Vera. You’re not at work, and it’s not a family courtroom. I’d advise you to stay away from Alistair tonight. He’s moved on, and so should you.”

“I’ve already moved on. Have you?”

Erin and I stared at each other before she placed the crying baby back in the pram. “Oliver and I will be going home soon. Doesn’t Camilla have her father’s eyes?” she taunted, revealing her macabre marionette smile.

“Of course, she does. She certainly doesn’t have your husband’s eyes. How does Oliver feel about this? That it’s Alistair’s baby and not his?” I dared to throw a dagger back.

“Now, Vera, it’s not nice to tell lies,” she chastised, then spoke to her friends. “I told you she’s not right in the head. She’s certified crazy.”

“Totally insane. She’s jealous of you,” the brunette bitched, patting Erin’s arm.

The blonde sneered. “It’s not her fault she’s behaving out of line. The lower classes never learn manners, do they?”

A surge of anger burned in my cheeks. Despite coming from a blue-collar suburb, I had attended an upper-class private school because of my academic scholarship. Yet, I would always be inferior to Erin and her lot.

“Did your nose just grow an inch, Erin? I guess your lies are something your cosmetic surgeon couldn’t fix,” I fired back.

“What did you say to me?” she snapped, eyes narrowing as if no one had ever dared to talk back before.

“You heard me the first time,” I replied. “By the way, I hope your child will take after her father. Alistair may be a bastard, but he’s an honest one.”

I smiled sweetly with my head high as I walked away. Erin and her friends reminded me of blowfish, with their mouths open but no words coming out.

Staring at the woman in the restroom mirror, I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. What the hell was I doing, falling for a playboy who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants? It takes a player to know a player, but why did Alistair hit me so deep when no one else ever had?

I’d hooked up with gods in college. Men who could’ve outshone Thor, Superman, take your pick. And still, nothing. No spark, no ache, no depth.

I cursed the Fates under my breath, especially Clotho, that smug bitch spinning the threads, weaving me right back into the wolf of Lester Harbor’s orbit tonight.

My phone buzzed, a message from Mindy flashing across the screen.

I sighed, then returned her message.

On my way out of the restroom, I decided to suck it up and say hello to Alistair. I headed toward the stage, timing it before the auction began. But I froze.

The auction hadn’t even started, yet someone had already claimed the highest bid: Erin Everton-Scott. She had Alistair’s gaze locked, his angel eyes fixed on her as if no one else in the room existed. Adoration softened his face when he cradled the child, settling her back into the pram just as Oliver appeared. Oliver’s expression soured, his frown sharp enough to cut, and he stormed away. Erin, ever the dutiful wife in public, followed after him.

That left Alistair in the spotlight, surrounded by women clawing for his attention. He turned to one, his mouth curling into a smirk as his eyes dipped down to the swell of ample breasts spilling from her dress while she leaned in, laughing at something he hadn’t even said.

An insidious whisper poisoned my heart with pain.

Alistair has forgotten you. He will never, ever be yours.

I blinked rapidly as involuntary tears ran down my flushed cheeks. Wiping them away, I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin, and moved one foot forward toward the bar.

“Vee. Come here and meet Marco and Drew,” Mindy called out, waving to me.

“I’m not feeling well, so I’m heading home early,” I told her, smiling weakly.

“Aww, I’m sorry. You take care of yourself and get some rest, okay? We’ll chat next week,” she said.

“I’ll call you next week,” I promised and hugged my friend before I left.

It was eleven p.m., and I couldn’t sleep, so I put my slippers on and stepped into the living room. My phone buzzed with a call from Holly James, the doctor I’d seen on and off casually.

“Hello?”

“Hey, darling. I was in the neighborhood and happened to stop by your place. Can I see you now?” Holly’s sultry voice spoke.

“Wow, you surprised me. Were you thinking of me?”

“Maybe. Perhaps I missed you.”

“I’ll let you in. I can offer you something to drink, but I need to be up early for work tomorrow.”

“Sure, sweetie.”

When I opened the door a minute later, I felt relieved to see Holly’s lithe and limber frame and her familiar blue eyes. “Well, will you let me in?” she asked. Her sweet face lit up when she grinned, revealing perfectly straight teeth. Holly was gorgeous, and she smelled sweet like delicious cherries.

I motioned for her to step into my apartment. “Would you like some tea or coffee?” I asked.

“No, just some water will be fine.”

After getting a glass of water from the open-plan kitchen, I sat down on the sofa next to her, gazing into her Marilyn Monroe eyes. I leaned toward the coffee table to put her glass on the surface. When she sipped her drink, Holly inched closer and stroked my hair.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, planting passionate kisses along my jawline as her hand slipped between my legs.

“The things you do to me,” I moaned, exploring the sweetness of her lips as I felt her nimble fingers massage my moist sex. There was something special about being with a woman. It was a sensual kind of magic, so tender and delicious that no man could replicate.

Unlike Alistair’s kisses, which were rougher and more demanding, Holly’s kisses were smooth and soft. Her velvety lips were edible, tasting like cherry delight. Hungry for her, I lifted her blouse and licked the small, pink tips of her breasts.

“You’re turning me on,” she murmured, her nipples stiffening.

“Do you want to stay the night?” I asked.

Her eyes glazed in a dreamlike trance. I leaned into that look, too caught up to notice anything else until a sting bit into my arm. Quick, sharp. Like a vicious mosquito bite.

“Ouch,” I gasped, flinching at the sudden sting. My eyes darted down. Holly slid a syringe from my arm.

“The pain will go away,” she murmured, almost soothing.

Ice shot through my veins. “What did you do to me?” My tongue felt thick, words slurring even as panic clawed at my chest.

“Nothing permanent. Just a little sleep.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You’ll wake up later. Don’t worry—I’m not going to kill you.”

The room tilted. My muscles sagged, heavy and unresponsive. I blinked hard, fighting the blur, but shapes dissolved around me. Through the haze, I caught Holly opening my door, waving in a broad-shouldered man who moved with grim purpose.

“Take her,” she ordered.

Strong arms scooped me up like cargo. My head lolled against his chest, my lungs begging for air that wouldn’t come fast enough. I tried to scream, but no sound broke free—my voice drowned in the drug’s tide.

Darkness dragged me under, cold and merciless.

Letting Holly into my apartment hadn’t just been a mistake. It was the end of control, the start of whatever nightmare waited beyond that door.