The Sect (4 page)

He studied me with a steady glower. “I’m very disappointed in your decision, Keaton.”

He was disappointed in me and I didn’t even know him. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that so I turned to leave.

Something was very wrong.

I felt a little dizzy as I walked down the aisle. Having difficulty finding my footing, I tripped over my feet and nearly fell. Before I slipped down, I was caught and guided by a set of strong hands. Blue eyes shrouded in hazel met mine, staring down at me with impassivity.
 

Unable to scream, I was easily swept away in Noah’s strong, thick arms. Carrying me as though I was weightless, he transported me to the back of the church where the pastor held the door leading to the access alley open.

“Pastor Lance, always a pleasure. You’ve done a good deed here. You and your church will be rewarded as always,” Reven promised the pastor.

“Anything I can do to help the wayward young people is enough,” said the pastor with a smile. “Your payment is secondary.”

A chilly burst of wind blanketed my body as Noah continued to carry me out of the church. Sound moved through a tunnel and my vision began to blur with a thick, dense dark cloud. My body felt slowly weighted from the inside out. I clutched the hard chest of the man taking me to a destination unknown. It was a small attempt to seek comfort through my crippling fear.
 

I knew better than to seek relief in deception.

I distrusted Jeff and trusted in a stranger I never should have.

T
HE
P
AST

She faced the glass, taking in her gorgeous view of New York Avenue through her floor-to-ceiling windows. She must’ve caught my arrival from the reflection of my figure in the glass. Without turning to greet me, she held up her hand and continued to speak to the person on the other end of the line through her Bluetooth.

I quietly took a seat in the tufted leather armchair in front of her expansive glass desk. From the back, I admired her glistening black hair, newly cut into a shoulder-length asymmetrical bob. My mother was a perfectionist when it came to her appearance. Her makeup, hair, and clothing were always near flawless extensions of the beautiful woman she was. Her striking presence could command a boardroom and a dinner party like no other person I’d ever met.

Ending her call, she turned around to face me, her light brown eyes narrowed against her glowing, amber skin. “Don’t you have a meeting to get to in five minutes? The Fall Color forecast? It’s important.”

“I know. I know.” I couldn’t contain my smile, or wait another minute to share my news. “I have a really big announcement.”

She slouched as though I had hit her. “Please, don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

“No, Mom,” I whined. “Reese is a pastor; you know that would never happen. We’re still…doing that thing.” I couldn’t say more. It was awkward disclosing to my mother that my boyfriend believed in abstinence before marriage. I never argued about it because my first experience with sex was a very traumatic one. His desire to maintain celibacy lined up with my need to be frigid when it came to sex. I hadn’t the slightest idea what I would do on our wedding night. Secretly, I hoped things would miraculously change for me, although, I wasn’t sure how.
 

“You’re beginning to concern me.” She crinkled her brow, creating lines in her otherwise wrinkle-free forehead. She was the face of F.A.C.E. cosmetics; she was also the CEO. She played her part well by maintaining a strict skin regime that included her diamond skin-care line and expensive trips to the aesthetician.
 

She moved with an effortless poise, taking a seat in the chair next to mine and crossing her legs at her ankles before tucking them underneath the chair.

“Reese proposed to me last night.” I showed her my ring, smiling with pride.

Her eyes darted around the room, searching for the unknown.

My smile immediately faded. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m looking for a magnifying glass. I’m sure I have one somewhere.”

Frowning, I dropped my hand. The touch of disappointment began to smirch my happiness. “Mom. Really?”

Cognizant that she’d hurt my feelings, she reached across the small table between the chairs we were seated in and grabbed my hand. “I want to be happy for you, baby girl. But we have to discuss this.”

“
Want
to be happy?” The word ‘want’ drew slowly from my mouth. “Discuss what? I love him. He loves me. End of story.”

She blinked at me in silence for a moment; it was as if she didn’t believe me. “This, of course, is the gentleman who is taking care of his little sister. The twelve-year-old? It’s baggage you don’t need. Not to mention—”

“Mom he—”

 
“—you’re too young for marriage, Keaton.” She effortlessly cut me off, continuing to put a damper on my happiness. “You’re only twenty-one and fresh out of college. He’s also a…social worker.” His profession spilled from her lips like a dirty word. “The church he pastors, it’s not for the wealthy, but one for the poor. Men feel emasculated when a woman makes more than he does. He needs some sort of power over her to feel like a man.”

“Is that why you and Dad didn’t marry until he was in the same income bracket as you?”

Breaking our hold, she sucked her teeth and waved her hand at me, shushing me for being unruly. “Marriage is about more than love. You know very well that your father earns more than I do. Don’t get snippy with me because I’m your voice of reason.”

Before my father’s movie production company got off the ground, my mother cared for him financially quite a bit. When his first movie became a sleeper hit, my parents were catapulted into becoming a power couple. The wedding was lavish and star-studded. Her dress was just as extravagant as her ring. It was the type of ring that carried so many carats it was better off stowed away in a safe, and only brought out for special occasions.

Her unexpected reaction made me doubt everything. As I looked at my ring, yellow gold with a quarter carat diamond, I began to believe what she did.
I should’ve bought my own ring.
“Can’t you be happy for me?”
 

“If this is what you want, and you’re happy, then I’m happy. But, Keaton”—she reached across the table and grabbed my hand again—“I know you like the air that I breathe. I know when my daughter is in love and when she’s truly happy.” She reached up to tuck a strand of my dark, mid-back length hair behind my ear. “What I see in your face is a woman who is settling. Not a woman who is ecstatically happy and deeply in love. If you had been those things—maybe, just maybe I could be happy for you. This isn’t right.
He
isn’t right for you. I’m sure deep down you know that.”

My gaze met hers; there wasn’t a single hint of cheerfulness in her face. Instead, there was disappointment that hit me so hard I wanted to burst into tears. “I knew you couldn’t be happy for me.” I stood, ready to leave.

“That’s not true, Keaton. I only want the best for you. You’re my only child. I want a man who will take care of you. A man with his salary can’t do that for you.” She stepped forward and grabbed my arm. “I don’t think you know him very well, Keaton. There is something about him that doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Because you’re such a stellar judge of character?” I snapped.

Her eyes narrowed, chastising me for my disrespectful outburst.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said quietly with my eyes cast to the floor. “I should get going. I have a meeting to prepare for.”

Nodding, she released me. My stomach sank with every step. Her inability to be happy over my news brought a dark cloud over the occasion. Through a small hint of light, I wondered if maybe she might’ve been correct.

Once I returned to my office down the hall, I caught a hint of my reflection in the window with my own view of New York Avenue. My reflection was that of a woman who was miserable and far from in love. I sank in my executive chair, conceding to what I wanted to deny.

My mother was one-hundred percent correct.

I
STIRRED
as an abrupt bounce pulled me out of my dreams. Through grogginess, my eyes peered at the scene around me. As my hazed-over vision began to clear, my surroundings rang familiar. Not because I’d been in that particular private jet before, but because it wasn’t too different from the one my mother and father used during their travels. There was never a time either of them flew commercial. They considered it too common.

I attempted to stretch my limbs, but realized my wrists were confined to the armrests with railroad ties. It was one of many things deep in the realm of the sinister and the unusual. My body felt different. Cleaner. Lighter.
 

 
I tipped my head forward, struggling to get free; my coarse, multi-toned dark hair draped forward, permeating my nose with its freshly shampooed scent. My skin felt smooth as if I was freshly waxed everywhere…including a place no one should’ve been allowed to touch. The violation I felt almost brought me to tears.
 

My clothes were changed into a simple outfit of a red form-fitting jogging suit. Realizing I didn’t feel as though we were in the air, my attention darted to the cabin window. Pure white snow surrounded the plowed airport runway as far as the eye could see. I searched around the cabin, finding that I was alone. The hangar was small and nearby, a close enough proximity to allow me to run and possibly find someone to help me.

The door to the cabin was opened, sending a rush of frigid air into the plane. Noah appeared, dressed differently than he was when we first met. His wool pea coat remained open, revealing the black dress-shirt and slacks he wore underneath. He was a beautiful illusion, appearing as though he was a wealthy businessman who took very good care of his broad form. A man I would’ve never assumed to be capable of drugging me and kidnapping me.
 

“Good. You’re up.”
 

I looked past his encompassing form; the cabin door was still left open and a drift of air blew in, seeping through the thin cotton material of my clothes and gripping my skin with its bitterly cold air.
 

He ran his palm over his hair, fixing what the wind undid and paced toward me.
 

I recoiled, hoping to escape.

Following where my gaze led, he looked over his shoulder for a moment. “The name on the hanger is Reven’s.” He regarded me, his eyes narrowing. “If you think you can escape and find someone to help you here, you’re wrong. If you behave, you won’t get hurt.” He looked over what I was wearing, his eyes drifting down the curves of my form before slowly leveling at my face. “The only one who touched you was a woman. We couldn’t have your stink permeating the cabin during the long flight here, now could we?”