Lured In (Dark Paradise, #1) (18 page)

“He made me walk back to my bedroom, and when we got there, he pushed me onto the bed and told me to put some fucking clothes on or he was going to do it again. Something looked different to me—he had taken the evidence. He had taken the lavender sheet soiled with my virginity. The clothes he had torn off of me were gone. I looked at him, and he yelled at me to get dressed. I remember thinking to myself, at that moment, that he must’ve done it before; he must have raped some other poor little girl. I guess I was too confused and still out of it to move fast enough for him because he came over and pushed me back to the orange sheets he’d put on my bed while I sat lonely and scared in the shower. He got on top of me again, and I started crying again. ‘Fuck those tears,’ he said to me again. ‘If you don’t put some fucking clothes on, I will do it again. Do you want that?’ In a haze, I got up and put on a pair of pajama pants and a shirt.

“I sat in my bedroom for nearly a week and a half, not knowing what to do, who to tell, or if I should tell or not. I didn’t leave my room for anything but to use the bathroom and to shower. I barely ate anything my mom brought up to my bedroom. I didn’t talk; I couldn’t talk. My voice was still caught up in that lavender sheet with my virginity. She thought I was on drugs—my mom. Can you fucking believe that? My mom thought I was on fucking drugs. My stepdad came in my room one day, sat beside me, grabbed my left arm, and put a tourniquet around it. He must’ve taken seven, maybe eight tubes of blood from me that day. I can still hear him say, ‘Since you don’t want to fess up and tell us what drugs you are on, we will find out our way.’

“Well, after a week, Richard and my dad came into my bedroom and demanded me to tell them what drug I took because the toxicology report reported no drugs in my system. My dad was all, ‘Princess, you have to tell us. I promise you won’t get into any trouble. Whatever drug you are taking is so dangerous that it doesn’t register in your system.’ I got so upset that no one asked me what had happened—they only assumed I was on drugs. I looked at my father and said in Italian, ‘Of course it was not a drug. I was raped.’ My dad replied, ‘Sweetie, you know we don’t understand Italian. You have to tell us the name of the drug in English.’ I repeated it again. Richard told my dad to grab my cell phone, which I hadn’t used since that day, and to call all the numbers in it. It had been left uncharged for over a week and a half.

“Sometime later that day, my mom had called Carmen, Karen, and Rachel and told them I was on some drug and asked if they were using drugs also. She told them that if they were, they had better tell her what it was before she called their parents. Carmen came over with Rachel, and my mother let them up in my room. They asked me what was going on, why my mom asked them about drugs, and why I wasn’t answering my phone. I looked at them and started crying. They both quickly wrapped their arms around me and asked me what was wrong. I cried, ‘Connor raped me.’ They asked what and when, and I repeated myself and told them the night he came home from school drunk. I told them what he said about doing it to me again and how no one would believe me.

“They insisted I tell my parents right away. Carmen yelled for my mom, who came in with Richard. Carmen demanded I tell them or she would. I couldn’t bring myself to say it to them. I started crying, and Carmen yelled it out. ‘That drunken asshole, Connor, raped her.’ They immediately called Connor, who strolled into my room like nothing had happened. Richard asked him flat out if he had raped me. He casually told them no, and I called him a liar.

“My mother told Carmen and Rachel to leave, and Carmen told her, ‘Hell, no.’ Richard told Carmen, ‘Leave—this is a family matter,’ and she told him, ‘Fuck no. If you want me gone, then call the police to have me removed. I’m sure they would love to decide if that rapist bastard is lying or not.’ They let her stay, and she put her hands around Connor’s throat and told him, ‘I have a meat clever with your name on it.’ Can you believe how she protected and stood up for me back then? And she’s still doing it to this day.

“Just as he’d promised, Connor lied and blamed everything on me for opening my fucking mouth and telling the truth. He told them I approached him in a drunken moment and that there was never any contact—not consensual and definitely not rape. They believed him. Can you fucking believe that? They believed that lying, drunken, evil rapist bastard over me.”

After I told Zach about that dreadful night, he got up, pulling me up with him. Sitting on the brick-colored lounger with canopy, I sat all the way back, drew my legs up to my chest, and hugged them. Zach sat in front of me on the ottoman and asked, “Abi, what did your folks say when they heard what he had done to you?”

“That I was probably too drunk to understand that nothing happened, though I wanted something to.”

“Your father—he didn’t believe you either?”

“No one. Connor made sure of that. When Richard and my dad asked him why he didn’t come forward when it first happened, he told them he had simply swept it under the rug and contributed my unusual and immoral behavior to whatever I was drinking—he never thought I would make up a slanderous allegation like that.”

“Fucking psycho,” Zach said. “Did you tell your folks what he did to you from your mouth? Or did they judge the situation solely on what Carmen told them?”

“I told them word for word—everything I just told you. That’s the reason they sent me to Dr. Epps—because they didn’t believe me and wanted to know why I would make up a lie like that. I told them too many goddamn times during the past eleven-plus years. They just didn’t listen or believe me. And because they didn’t believe me about Connor, they didn’t believe me about Epps, and Dr. Epps knew he could capitalize off of them not trusting me with another slanderous accusation.”

Sitting beside me with his fingers in my hair, caressing my scalp, Zach said, “What happened to you is horrendous, and everyone around you failed you. I am so sorry for that, Abigail. I’m surprised that your dad and stepdad allowed this shit to happen to you.” Changing subject, he continued, “How did they become friends anyway—your dad and stepdad? It seems pretty odd that they’re best friends.”

“They’ve always been cordial to each other for my sake, but their friendship started after Connor raped me. Because they assumed I was on drugs when I first shut down, they were working hard together trying to figure out what drug could’ve been in my system and found that they had so much more in common than they did with my mother. Soon after that night, I started drinking and smoking weed, and the more I indulged, the closer they became.”

“They seem so much alike.”

“They’re far from alike. My dad has a really bad temper and is stubborn as hell and aggressive, whereas Richard is the complete opposite. He’s not as aggressive as my dad, and he keeps a cool head.”

I laid my head on Zach’s chest and thought,
The past stole my voice once, but with Zach here comforting me, I’m able to open up about that horrific night, thus releasing a huge burden. I got my voice back.
Lying on Zach’s chest, I felt completely free.

I woke up the next morning in paradise—against Zach’s chest—with his arm still tightly wrapped around me and a thin blanket shielding us from the cool Washington, DC, air. We had fallen asleep on the terrace sometime in the night when he was consoling me after my admission. I looked at the watch on his wrist, and it read 8:18 a.m. I kissed Zach softly on his neck and got up to use the bathroom.

Afterward I went to Gabi’s room to check in on her. She was still sleeping peacefully, so I closed the door and headed back downstairs.

Zach was in the kitchen with a spatula in one hand and a box of pancake and waffle mix in the other. He asked, “What do you want to go with your bacon, eggs, and oatmeal? Pancakes or waffles?”

I kissed and hugged him tightly and replied, “Waffles.”

“Waffles it is,” he said, smiling.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked.

“Measuring cups,” he answered.

I pointed in the direction of the measuring cups and asked, “Can I take your shirt so it doesn’t get dirty while you cook?”

“Are you trying to get me out of my clothes, Ms. Winterfield?” he asked, walking over to me.

“I just want your shirt, for now,” I replied and winked.

I kissed him slowly as I unbuttoned his shirt from bottom to top. I ran my hands seductively along his strong shoulders and well-defined biceps as I pushed his shirt down and off his back. I removed his monogrammed cufflinks and kissed the insides of his wrists. He had a fitted white T-shirt underneath.

I watched his muscles move as he cracked the eggs and mixed the batter. He looked absolutely marvelous moving about in my kitchen. I could no longer resist the urge to kiss and fondle him again. Walking behind him, I laid my head on his solid back and wrapped my arms around him. Slipping my hands under his T-shirt, I pressed against his stomach and chest while I kissed his back. His skin started heating up beneath my hands and lips, and I turned him to face me. I looked up at him, and he was all smiles and flirty eyes. We devoured each other’s tongues, and he moved his hands under my shirt. His hands felt so right on my back and ass. They were strong, confident, and comfortable.

Gabi’s footsteps on the stairs heralded her arrival, and she stopped short when she saw me with Zach. My eyes got big, and my breathing ceased. Zach pulled me closer to him and whispered, “Breathe, Abigail.”

He knew I wasn’t ready for the two of them to meet. I released an agitated sigh and hugged him even tighter.

Looking at Gabi, I told her, “Zach is a friend of mine.”

She looked Zach up and down. I swore she looked like her father sizing someone up. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you, sir,” she said after giving him the Goodman stare down.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you,” Zach told Gabi. “Breakfast will be ready shortly.”

“It smells good. What did you cook, Mom?” Gabi asked, wrapping her arms around my waist, looking up at me.

“Zach cooked waffles, bacon, eggs, and oatmeal.”

She looked between me and Zach, and said, “Oh!
OK
.” She looked at Zach again and furrowed her eyebrows before looking at me. That she got from me.

We all sat to eat breakfast, and I asked Gabi, “Do you like the way your food tastes?”

“It’s very good. I like the oatmeal a lot,” she replied gleefully with wide eyes and a wider smile.

“Is it better than mine?”

“The oatmeal, yes—hands down, and I want seconds. Everything else is almost as good as yours, but not quite. Sorry, Mr. Zach…and thank you for the breakfast.”

A voice from the dining room doorway interrupted our breakfast. “Gab, are you ready to go, sweetheart?”

I got up, surprised to see him, and pushed him back into the foyer.

“Ready for what? This is my weekend with her.”

He ignored my question and looked Zach up and down. It was the same stare Gabi had given him earlier.

He scowled at me and then Zach. He looked at Gabi and said, “Go up to your bedroom and get your clothes on, now.” She got up promptly and went up to her bedroom.

“Why are you here to get Gabi on my weekend?”

He ignored me still and walked closer to Zach, who was still sitting at the table, with an evil, watchful eye.

“Who is this, Abigail?” Gabe asked me in Italian.

I grabbed Gabe’s right arm and demanded, “Tell me, why are you here?”

“Who the fuck is this man, Abi?” he asked, still speaking in Italian, ignoring my question.

“Would you stop it with the Italian, already? And tell me why you’re here.”

“It’s Erma’s birthday today. What, she’s not allowed to see her sister on her birthday?”

“I would never keep Gabi away from her sister. But you knew you had plans for them today and didn’t bother to make arrangements to switch our weekends.”

“I’m not discussing my children with you in front of any Tom, Dick, or Harry,” he said, walking over to the stairs to make sure Gabi wasn’t listening to us.

“Excuse me? But you came into my house unannounced and most definitely uninvited.”