Not even a breath. Aname.
Rae’s name.
My body tenses. There’s something I’m missing, a piece just out of reach.
“Not a joke.” I’m bluffing but match his low tone.
I didn’t like this man the first time I met him, and that emotion is quickly seeping toward repulsion as he looks around furtively.
“Anything that happened was a long time ago, and it was between us.”
What the fuck?
“You’ve been around,” he goes on. “You know how it is. In college, you like to drink, experiment. Girls see an older guy they want…” He wets his lips. “It’s how rumors get started.”
The vineyard falls away, the world receding down to a point that’s Zachary, his reddening face and shifting eyes and expensive tux with the boutonnière.
When I speak, each word is soft. “Ah, yes. Those rumors.”
Sweat beads on his face. “It was Kian’s party.” His throat bobs. “She shouldn’t have even been there.”
In Miami, she said started making music in high school after she was raped, that her parents began fighting after something disrupted their family, ended up divorcing.
The way she doesn’t rely on anyone to look out for her. The identity she forged, the one that makes it easier for her to be free, to separate herself from someone who doesn’t have fears…
That’s why she didn’t want me here today. She knew he would be, or could be.
Zachary Whelan isn’t only the man responsible for the fate of my club.
He’s the man who raped my girlfriend.
People are watching us, recognizing me.
I don’t care. I step closer, fisting his lapel and leaning in until his awful cologne hits my nostrils.
“Say another word,” I mutter, “and I will break one of these wine bottles and castrate you in front of the bride and groom.”
His eyes widen in shock.
But before I can rip Whelan to shreds, a woman’s voice calls my name.
“Harrison!”
I turn, but it’s not my girlfriend. Though she’s physically similar and around the same age, this woman is taller, wearing a different dress, and the expression on her face is a warning as she looks between me and Whelan.
“Callie,” I guess, and she nods. “I’m in the middle of—“
“I can’t find Rae anywhere.”
* * *
Rae
The cellar’s damp but comforting. Quiet and far enough from the rest of the party that no one will find me.
Except footsteps have me tensing, and dress shoes appear on the stairs.
I made it through the ceremony, focusing steadfastly on my brother and his beaming bride.