Speak (The Voice trilogy Book 2) (15 page)

Chapter 15

              “Matthew, it was good to see you, Brother. Good luck with her,” Rhys teases, shaking Matthew’s hand.

              “It looks like you need the luck tonight, my friend. We’ll talk on Monday.”  He pats Rhys on the shoulder and walks around his car to meet the valet.

              “Bye, Sophie!” Olivia throws her loose arms around my neck and gives me a squeeze that pushes me off balance. We both sway and fall from the curb, stumbling over our shoes, giggling in each other arms. Rhys pulls us back from the street and hands Olivia off to Matthew before pushing me into the back of his Town Car. A loud giggle erupts from my throat as I slide across the seat watching Rhys’ dark face focus on me. I am drunk, the whiskey having caught me, and I don’t care. Jack slows the blood in my veins, wrapping me in a veil of alcohol infused indifference. He sits back, staring at me and I find it impossible to take him seriously.

             
“You are angry,” I whisper.

              “You are drunk,” he states with no emotion.

              “You have no right to be angry with me,” I retort. He softens with a sigh.

              “I am not angry, Sophie. I am worried.” The car weaves through traffic, speed ebbing and flowing, throwing my gut into a tailspin, stop lights and street lights cast shadows that make the car spin and I need fresh air. I scoot to the corner and roll the window down. Resting my head against the seat, I let my eyes close and it all comes back into focus. Melissa’s blazing eyes stare at me from behind my lids, her smile wide and triumphant as she takes everything that Rhys can give. Damn Her! I sit straight up my eyes wide, my throat on fire.

             
“You should be worried. What am I supposed to think? How am I supposed to handle this?” Quiet words start to fall like rain, an inner monologue going public. I work through it out loud as if Rhys isn’t even there. “You have not been honest. You have been withholding vital information about yourself, Mr. Slate. I mean, guys like you are so used to everything just falling at your feet. Of course, women would fall at your feet. Hell, I fell at your feet against my better judgment. But bondage clubs and
private parties
? Really? I know what that means! Orgies! I knew you were no saint, but this is a whole other level. I have been with five people. Five! And I thought I was skating the lines of impropriety. I shudder to think how many women, how many girls you have been with. Just the thought makes me want to vomit.  And the video! Ugh! The video has been playing on a loop in my mind, over and over again. How am I supposed to get rid of that?” I let my head fall back against the seat and look anywhere but into his eyes. “What the hell have I gotten myself into? How is it possible that you will not get bored with me and drop me so fast my head spins? Why would
you…
” My arm flies across the car in a grand gesture, waving about his form. “You! Why would you be interested in me? What happens when I don’t want to do the things you like? What if I can’t handle you? What if I’m not enough?” I sit back against the seat and take a deep breath of the warm summer air that flows through the window. “I just ran away, again. I ran away from my problems and into the arms of a man.” I watch him now, across the car his eyes sparkle in the dark, but he says nothing. “You will crush me, Rhys. I will get lost in you and I will never recover. That is a scary thought. But it is even scarier to think of my life without you. How did you do that?” I close my eyes and rest, willing my stomach to settle, willing the whiskey to wear off, yet I know it is only going to get worse before it gets better. “You should be worried.”

              The next thing I know Rhys is setting me down on the bed and pulling off my shoes. I sit up and look into the eyes of a worried soul. His features are twisted and pulled down in a sad frown, lines dart across his forehead and his eyes are black.

              “I think I’m a little drunk,” I whisper, letting my head fall back as he climbs up next to me.

              “Just a little,” he murmurs with a chuckle, propping himself on his elbow to look at me.

             
“I think maybe I should go home for a little while.” I roll into a ball facing him. His eyes flash, his tight jaw saws back and forth before his eyebrows knit together.

              “Why?” A drunken jumble of reasons swims through the muck of my head, but I can’t come up with one good cohesive stream of consciousness.

              “You know why, Rhys. I just need a little time, maybe a little distance.” His face wrinkles and he opens his mouth to respond before snapping it shut. “I don’t think straight when it comes to you.” He just watches me trying to work it all out. He reaches out and brushes a hair from my forehead.

              “I have the same problem,” he mutters before kissing my forehead.

              “Really?” I don’t believe it. I know he says it, but men say what they need to say, to get what they want.

              “More than you can know, Sophie. You are so much more than I deserve.” The room starts to slowly spin as I take a deep breath and sit up, Rhys follows. “Are you alright?” His hand on my knee settles me and I close my eyes to stop the spin. “You need water. I will be right back.” He slides off the bed and disappears. I take the moment to try and gather myself.

              I go into the bathroom and smooth my clothes, splash a little water on my face and brush my teeth. The taste of whiskey coats my mouth, leaving a regretful film that tortures me. Rhys hands me a tall glass of water as I step back into the room. His tall, lean body looms large and he hovers, waiting for what, I don’t know, for me to throw up, pass out, or run, either way, he looks like he is anticipating something very unpleasant. I reach up and cup his cheek. His warm skin feels nice on my palm, a little rough from his stubble.

              “Don’t look so sad.” He grabs my hand and places a slow, soft kiss to my palm. Closing his eyes, he rests my palm against his lips and takes a deep breath.

              “Please, don’t leave me, Sophie.” His coal black eyes pull at my heartstrings.

              “I am not leaving you, Rhys.” I stretch on my tip toes and kiss the corner of his mouth. He sweeps me up into his arms, flush against his chest, knocking the almost empty glass from my hand. It bounces and skids to the foot of the bed, leaving a small puddle in its wake, but Rhys doesn’t seem to care. He walks to the bed, kicking the glass out of the way as he lowers me onto the mattress. The kiss is all consuming, our breaths mingled and dancing over our teeth as lips press and twist around each other. Our tongues swirl around and around, pushing in and out. His teeth graze my bottom lip and he nips me quickly.

              “What did Olivia say to you?”

              “She said the past is in the past, I just have to decide if I can live with it.”

              “And can you?”

              “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

              “I am sorry, Sophie.”

              “I don’t want you to be sorry, Rhys. Truly, it shouldn’t matter. It has nothing to do with me, I know that. It is in the past. I have a past. We have been over this. I can handle that. But I cannot forget what I saw. Every time I close my eyes, I see her face, I see you. It is burned into my mind, and it hurts like a fucking wound.” We lay face to face and silent for a long moment, a stretched moment of silence that seemed perfect.

              “Rip it off,” I whisper, “just tell me everything. That way she has no power over you anymore. No power over us. I want to understand. I promise I will try.” His brow furrows in thought and he shakes his head in frustration.

              “I don’t want to lose you, Sophie.”

              “Just tell me so we can move on.”

             
“Well, alright.” He hops from the bed. “I guess if we are going to do this I should have a drink, maybe a few so I can catch up to you.” I tip my head at him and gesture for my own glass.

              “I am deeply flawed, Sophie. And you, you are so not.” I snort in indignation as we toss back our whiskey in unison, eyeing each other in challenge.

              “No flaws! Are you serious? I am twenty four years old and I am afraid of everything. I live my life like I am eighty. I stayed with a man that hurt me just because I was afraid to be alone. There are your flaws, and that’s just a scratch at the surface.”

              “You have good reason behind your bad decisions, Sophie. I have nothing of substance. No good excuse. I was simply young and bored. There is no excuse for that. No silver lining that will redeem me.” He paces at the foot of the bed, like a caged animal. “I really don’t want to do this. You realize what you are asking me to do right? You are asking me to expose myself, to rip back the mask and show you the guy I have worked so hard to hide. I like to bury my flaws deep, Sophie. Willingly bringing them into the open is counterintuitive. It is in every man’s best interest to present his best self. You are asking me to willingly show you the monster that lurks beneath. What if you decide you don’t like what you see? I don’t want to lose you, Sophie. You are asking me to take a big risk here.”

              “And you have asked me to take a risk. I am here, Rhys. I took a risk for you, you have to trust me.”

              “I know you are right. So, go ahead, ask me anything.”

              “Oh no, I want you to just tell me. No loop holes in case I don’t ask the right questions, no escape, Rhys. If you want me to trust you, you have to be honest with me. I cannot keep being bombarded by your past. I don’t know how much more I can take. You have to let me in.”

             
“What are the chances you are going to remember any of this anyhow?”

              “Slim to none,” I tease as the room tilts on its axis and a drunken fog fills my head.

              “Matthew and I were wild in our younger days. There were…
girls
. We went to clubs, fetish clubs and we would pick up someone to play with. Nothing everyone else wasn’t doing. Sometimes we would play with people we knew. I would bring Nadja when she was in town, and she got really into it. It was exhilarating, the power play, the submission. The things girls were willing to do just to be near us, just to party on our boat. It’s hard not to let that kind of attention and access go to your head when you are a young man.  We started to make a name for ourselves so we had to take it underground. We started hosting the Private Parties Olivia told you about. But once Matthew and Olivia got serious, he didn’t like to play anymore. It was just me and Nadja. Nadja loves to perform for the camera so we started to tape it. It became a
thing
, women would vie for her attention when we were out just for a chance to hook up with us.” I wince at the thought of them hooking up with a group.

              “Like two addicts, we just fed off of each other’s compulsion to push. We were always pushing each other, sometimes to uncomfortable heights. It was so easy to get carried away and Nadja loves to exploit other people’s weaknesses. She gets off on humiliation and exploitation. It was mesmerizing the things that she could get people to do, with so little effort. But she took it too far. She tried to
bring me a girl
, one night in Ibiza, a real piece of work that she had clearly already worked over, some piece of Eurotrash that she had a grudge against. She tried convincing me that we should use her and document it so Nadja could humiliate her. She was so cold about it, so devious and I just didn’t want any part of it. We had already crossed so many lines, but I had finally found the line I wouldn’t cross. I saw Nadja in a whole new light, it was like having the curtain ripped back, revealing the great and powerful Oz to be a fraud. Nothing more than a face, a façade, perfect on the outside, but nothing at the core. I realized that I had to get away from her. We had gone back and forth for years, suddenly I just couldn’t remember why. She left for a job and I never looked back. I threw myself back into work and went back to business as usual. We didn’t see one another or speak for almost six months.” He takes a deep breath before continuing.

              “But you have to understand, because our relationship was always so back and forth, she traveled so much and really wasn’t around. So leaving her behind was something I was more than prepared to do. We ran into each other at a charity event, which was bound to happen. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but as always, Nadja did not disappoint. She seduced my date and tried to convince me to take the two of them home. I explained to her that we were over, but she refused. She took it out on my date, poor girl, never saw it coming. Nadja poured a glass of champagne over her and slapped her in front of two hundred people. I agreed to see her the next day so we could talk and I could make her understand. When we met, though, she said that she was dating someone she had met on location. She agreed that we were over and we left it at that. I was relieved that she had found someone else to focus her attentions on. She just needed to be in control of it, she couldn’t let it seem like I had walked away from her, she had to walk away from me. And I was fine with that.” He is watching me for a reaction, for anything. But I remain stoic, listening intently.

              “I knew she would be back. We started that charity together with my mother when we were teens. I knew we would see each other again, but I was hoping this time, things would change. The time and distance would impact her. I didn’t see her again until I started helping Viktor. I told you, she came asking for help the day you came to Miami. I was fresh off the plane when I ran into you that night. Shining in the moonlight with your little white dress and your bare feet, I was spellbound. I had just come from dealing with this woman who pushed me in all the wrong ways. I knew standing in front of her that I would never touch her again. But man, oh man, did I want to touch
you
that night. When I laid my hand at your back, you bowed into my palm, it was electric. You smelled like salt and strawberries, your skin was so pale and perfect. I wasn’t convinced of my own ability to not be a jerk, though, and I didn’t want to make the wedding awkward. I didn’t want to make the wrong move. But I just couldn’t resist. And I am glad that sometimes I have very little self-control, that I give in to my baser urges. I have never felt the kind of connection that I feel with you, Sophie. I cannot stop thinking about you, your voice, your taste, your smell. I need it, I need it all.” I fight back a yawn and he lowers his voice. “I am sorry that my past has come back to hurt you, again. But this is it, this is all of me, the good, the bad and the ugly.”