Beneath His Darkness (Healing Hearts #3) (11 page)

He looks at me and the look on his face makes me think I’m dealing with the devil himself.

“Fine, stay standing, for now.”  He waves his hand through the air like he’s brushing me off.  “You’re going to get a call from Eddie asking you to come in for a meeting.  He’s going to tell you there will be some changes on the show and he wants you to keep your distance from Tucker.”

“Excuse me?  Keep my distance from Tucker?  Is this fucking junior high school?  I fucked his girlfriend.  We’re adults, aren’t we?  He needs his best friend to fight his battles now? People can get the fuck over it.”

“Ha.  I knew you’d feel that way and nice using Melanie to get rid of her, by the way.  I knew you were cruel, but that was a great touch.  I was impressed.  Don’t look at me like that.  I’ve told you before, I’m watching you.  Maybe you’ll start to realize now that you’re mine.”

I want to argue with him, tell him I’m not anybody’s, but the words lodge in my throat.  He knows too much about me.

“Speaking of Mel, you’ll call her tomorrow and apologize for your deplorable treatment of her.”

“The hell I will,” I bark out.

“We’ll get back to her later.  For now, we need to finish discussing Eddie.”

“Davyd, you can’t just walk in here and tell me who I will and will not apologize to.  That’s not the deal we had.”  I’m starting to lose my temper and for the first time in five years, I’m contemplating walking away from my plans.  His interference in my life is getting out of control.

“How cute.  You think you have a choice,” he says with smug authority.  “Look at this and tell me you won’t be calling Melanie in the morning.”

I grab his cell phone from his outstretched hand and tap the screen. 
Oh God! 
I’ve never been so glad to have an empty stomach.  A video of the one time I met Davyd at a motel plays across the screen, sickening me.  Seeing what he does to my body, the pleasure he takes from me, makes me feel dirty all over again.

How did I not know he had a camera in the room?

“You will do what I say or I will make sure that video goes viral.  Understand?”

“But you’re on the video, too.”

“If you think I can’t alter myself out of the video, you aren’t as smart as I’ve been giving you credit for.”

My body hums with barely restrained anger.  Davyd knows I’m close to ending our arrangement so he resorts to blackmail?  He knows that video will destroy my career and the fan base I’ve worked my ass off to build.  I need both of those things in place for my plan to work.

“I see you comprehend what I’m saying.”  He grabs his phone and watches the images on the screen for a minute with a smile on his face.

I want to shove that fucking phone down his throat, see how he likes unwanted things shoved into his body.  I would take pleasure in that.

“Now, back to Eddie.  He met with the entire writing staff and a new storyline has been written for this upcoming season.  The cast didn’t know the old storyline so it won’t matter to them, but you did and it’s going to be a big ass deal to you.”

Hearing him say ‘ass’ makes me cringe.

“You’re dead at the end of this season.”

“What?”

“And Tucker’s character kills yours,” he continues, like I never asked a question.

“What the fuck do you mean Tucker’s character kills mine?” I roar.  There is no more containing my rage.  A beast rips through the veiled exterior I’ve kept so perfectly in place.

“Tucker?  Tucker?  Is this your idea of a sick joke, Davyd?  Your way of trying to see how far you can push me?”

Fear should emanate in his eyes with the rage pouring out of mine, but he still looks at me with that fucking smirk.  I want to rip his lips clear off his face.

“You’ll need to stay calm when Eddie calls you in for the meeting.  He’ll be doing that in a couple hours.”  Again, he speaks as if I’ve said nothing.  My fury is unnoticed by him.  “He cannot know I’ve given this information to you.  I’m not sure how much he’s going to say to you or if he’ll even discuss the course of the upcoming season, but I thought you should be forewarned.”

“Forewarned?” I scoff.  “You didn’t want to forewarn me of anything.  You wanted to come over here and throw this shit at me, watch me explode, and know you still have leverage over me.  This is how you play the game.  Well, I’ve had enough!”

“You’ll have enough when I say you’ve had enough, do you understand me, lover?  I can break you in a matter of minutes and all your work to crush Tucker will be for not.  I own you and it’s time for my payment.  Now strip!”

He pulls his cell phone out and brings forth the video again for me to see.

“You know I don’t bluff.”

He’s right. I know him and he does what he says he’ll do.  Defeated by my lack of options and arguments, I start to shed my clothing, going as slowly as I can.  Fire still courses through my veins, anger so hot over the information he gave me, but there’s nothing I can do with it at this moment.  Instead, I stand bare before him, a shell of the person I am.

“That’s better.  Now, put these around your neck.”

My eyes drop to see what he’s talking about and I wish I hadn’t.  Metal balls hanging from chains dangle from his hands.  I can tell they are heavy from looking at them.  He intends to keep me down, shackled, while he desecrates my body.  It’s one more attempt at breaking me.

I. Will. Not. Break!

With my gaze fixed on his, I grab the leaden weights, bring them about my shoulders, and watch the satisfaction fill his eyes.  He grabs at me and I take satisfaction in knowing I’m limp in his hand.  I have never been hard for this man.

He wants to punish my lack of submitting, my lack of commitment to him.  I can see the ferocity in his eyes.  A storm of wrath rages so deep, I know if I get caught in the winds of his punishment, I’ll be tossed around and battered until I’m nothing but a bloody mass left in the remnants of his vehemence.

Although I know the violence that threatens to push forth from the calm exterior he allows the world to see, I still can’t bring myself to participate in the heinous acts he performs on my body.  There is no attraction to him and my body’s lack of response says what I wish I could.  Maybe the way for me to win against him is to continue not feeling.  There has to be a way to crack his rock hard shell and start the downward spiral to him losing control.

“I see you, lover.  See you thinking.  This is not a time for thinking.  Only feeling.”

My body shudders in protest of his words, but I fear he’ll take it as a sign of arousal.  Closing my eyes, I prepare myself for the invasion.

“What are you doing, Grant?”

I open my eyes to his oily orbs staring back at me.  He’s not reaching out to touch me and I’m confused.  I shrug at him, not understanding what he’s asking.

“We’re not in your bedroom.”

Ah, of course.  He always has to take me on my bed.  Another sign of his dominance over me.

I walk through my living room, naked, with metal balls hanging around my neck, as he follows me, still fully dressed.  In my mind, I question how I missed the bag he brought in with him.  I just saw it now as I walked by the couch.  Would I have been more on edge knowing he brought weapons of torment with him?

It’s too late to question the “what ifs” now.

“Get on the bed and wait for me.  I assume you made sure the sheets are clean for me.”

The arrogance he gives off makes me want to choke—mostly choke him, but breathing for me is difficult, too.  I nod or give some subtle response to his question because he murmurs a favorable response.  A small shiver of delight passes through me.  I have a secret he doesn’t know about.  That one secret makes me feel like I’ve kept a small piece of myself in all of this.

These are not the same sheets he has taken me on every time.  I don’t wash them and reserve them for him, as special sheets, only to be used by he and I.  No.  I bought dozens of these identical sheets.  After Davyd leaves, I burn the set that was on the bed, needing to scorch the act from my space and mind.  The ashes I clean from the fireplace are a reminder of the cleansing my soul still needs, but at least my home is sanitized.

I don’t think I’ll ever feel clean again.

The bed sinks beside me and I try not to think about what’s coming next, what I’ve allowed to happen, how I let the tables get turned on me.

“Get on your hands and knees, lover.  I want to see those balls hanging.”

The meaning in his words is not lost on me.  There are too many balls hanging for me to even begin to guess which ones he’d be more turned on by and it sickens me.  I try to flinch away from him, but his large hand clamps down on my hip, yanking me into position.

“I’ve told you, you are mine.  This is mine,” he says slapping my ass.  “I own you.”

The obsidian edges of my mind crackle with the awareness of my despair.  They ebb and flow with the beat of my frantic heart, molding and stretching until I can once again find solace in the only place that allows me to disappear into nothingness.  I settle into the darkest recesses of my mind and let the shadows wrap around me like a blanket, comforting me, blocking me from anything that can harm me.  All the sights, sounds, feelings of the outside world collapse around me as I fall into obscurity.

My body may be being taken over, but I’d never know.  My mind has gone numb, descended into the void that permits me to feel nothing.  In this abyss, I can’t be touched, I can’t be tainted.  I’m the Grant I envision myself as and I’m still strong.

Mercy is for the weak.

Weak, I will never be.

Chapter Eleven

Grant—Twenty Two Years Old

It’s been a little over two months since the “meeting” with Eddie.  Walking in there and pretending I didn’t know the bullshit he had planned for me was like trying to contain a cyclone.  I wanted to thrash his perfectly set up office, spew the papers he had so neatly stacked, and punch him in his controlled face.

I never had a problem with Eddie Carmichael before, but he put himself on my shit list.

In the time since that meeting, I’ve had to push harder than ever to keep my emotions in check and my agendas hidden.

Although, if anyone ever found my little hidey-hole, they would know how twisted I truly am.  There would be no way to hide my hatred any longer.

Not that I’ve been trying to hide how I feel about Tucker.  I play nice with the rest of the cast; I genuinely like them, but Tucker is a dick.  Plus, I don’t deal well with being bossed around.  Eddie’s talk comes back to me.

“There are two things I don’t tolerate on my shows: drama and divas.  You and Victoria put me and the rest of the crew in an awkward position.  To make it easier on everyone, you are to stay away from Tucker.”

He must see the argument about to spew forth because he raises his hand to silence me.

“You slept with his girlfriend, Grant.  He has the right to be pissed for a while about that.  You will keep your distance and not create any more drama or I will be forced to make decisions I don’t want to make.”

Fire burns inside me at the subtle warning.  He’s trying to scare me with the threat of losing my job, but I already know I’m losing it.

I let him think he wins, but I know there will be no falling in line for me.  I will not stay away from Tucker and I will not play nice.  If it creates drama, so be it.

I’ve created some storms since then.  That day ended up bringing me some information that allowed me to interfere in Tucker’s life and Vic inadvertently gave me the means to do so.

Her frantic call to Eddie during our meeting about Tucker falling in love with some country bumpkin irritated me.  I thought she was turning into a fighter, but as soon as I turned my back on her, she went running for him, for a life that was just settling for her.  It made me furious.

I’m not sure why Eddie answered his phone while he was in a meeting with me.  It was out of his typical, professional character.  I remember him saying he was waiting for a call, but she didn’t seem to be the call he wanted.  Maybe he should learn to check his caller ID.  Doesn’t anyone have manners, anymore?

Her voice had cut through the room, screaming that Eddie had to save Tucker.  Eddie rolled his eyes and told her to calm down.  After a few minutes of her continued ranting, he finally asked her to text him the address.

Everything about that day played into my hands.  Vic’s call.  Eddie’s assistant coming in a few seconds later saying she needed him right away.  The address Vic texted Eddie.  Eddie not locking his phone.  My photographic memory.  All of that led to me being able to fuck with Tucker and the blame falling on Vic.

I hope it taught her a lesson about running back to the bastard.

While the show was on hiatus, I had to put up with repeated visits from Davyd.  I apologized to Melanie as he instructed.  It pained me to do so, but he was right.  We did still need her.  I was pissed to find out he had been talking with her, too.  He knew I had him set up to take the fall and was, once again, a step ahead of me.

During the weeks of dealing with Davyd, I found solace in seeing the tabloid reports on Tucker and knowing I sent the paparazzi after him.  It wasn’t enough that I sent him running in the first place; I thrived on knowing I sniffed him out and he was being tormented further.  I wanted him broken.  I wanted everyone here on the show to see that he was not a god.

And see that they did.  When he came back, he was a shell of the man they knew.  He would show up to the set unshaven for days.  I’m not sure he even showered.  His acting was subpar.  For weeks, he walked around like a man haunted.  The show suffered because of it.  We ended up weeks behind on taping schedules because he couldn’t get his shit together, but no one would say anything because he was Eddie’s best friend.  It started to piss me off.  Even fucking up the show, he was above reproach.

So, I turned my attention to Victoria.  The more Tucker moped, the more she acted like a wounded puppy.  I was done watching that shit.  Tucker never treated her like his girlfriend.  He sure as hell never even treated her as his equal.  She was a show off piece—a roommate that he fucked when he was horny and then left at home when he didn’t need someone pretty on his arm.