Seductive Shadows (24 page)

The Doctor
.

What was he doing here?

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Williams,” he said. He had a reassuring gleam in his eyes. “I’ve heard a lot about you. From what I’ve observed tonight, it appears that the buzz is true.”

I touched his fingers lightly, allowing him to squeeze my hand as I took several deep breaths and tried to calm my stomach. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Dr. Luna.”

“Please,” he said with a warm smile, “call me Marvin.”

“I’ve known Marvin for years,” Professor Freeman said. “And I’ve helped him with his collection. He has several of Cameron’s pieces. Now he wants one of yours.”

“One of mine?” I asked.

He knew Professor Freeman...and Cameron. Why hadn’t he said anything to me about them when I’d mentioned their names during our sessions? I still hadn’t given him an answer regarding whether I would leave the mansion. Was that what he’d truly come for tonight?

“Yes,” the Doctor confirmed. “
Lace Mask
will be a perfect addition to my collection. It’s exactly what…I’ve been looking for.”

Of course he wanted that piece; he knew the inspiration for it. While other viewers would be thrown off by the lace, he knew it for the self-portrait it was.

I smiled and maintained my professional air in front of the Professor. “Thank you, sir. I’ll happily make you a duplicate.”

“No need,” the Professor said. “Marvin purchased the original.”

“I’d like to hire you for a few more pieces,” the Doctor said. “Only if you’re interested, of course.”

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” the Professor said. “I have someone else I’d like you to meet when you’re done, Charlie.”

I waited for the Professor to step away before dropping my smile and my voice to a whisper. “What are you doing here…
Marvin
? And did you ever think to mention your name during one of our outside meetings?”

“I wanted to see your work.” His voice lowered as well, and his eyes scanned the room as though he was making sure no one else was listening.

I knew I had never mentioned the exhibit to him. I had discussed my art and the class I had taken with Cameron and the one I was currently enrolled in. The Professor must have told him about tonight and being a collector it made sense that he was invited. But I didn’t think the only reason he had attended was because he wanted to view my work.

“Really? That’s the only reason you came?”

His eyes seemed to soften a little. “You haven’t given me an answer. I thought coming here would show you how sincere I am, how committed”

That part hadn’t been in question. “I know how you feel about this. You’ve made your wishes very clear.”

“You don’t need the mansion, Charlie. You—”

I cut him off. “That’s not for you to decide.”

“Let me finish, please.” I tried to remain calm as he explained. “You’re young and beautiful, and you have so much talent...
real
talent. You have far greater value in the world than you’ve given yourself credit for. You’re better than the mansion; you’re better than Lilly. You’re better than me.” He’d made this comparison in the limo. Why was he doing it again now? “What I want for you in this life will one day pale in comparison to the expectations you will set for yourself, but first you have to move on from the past. The mansion is not your future, Charlie. It’s your past. It isn’t good. The longer you stay, the more it will hurt you.”

I didn’t know what to think anymore.

“Why are you telling me this? Why do you even care?”

“Because someone needs to wake you up and help you realize what you’re really doing...that you deserve so much more than what you have there, more than that place can give you.” His eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what that house and those people will really do to you if you keep going back.”

“You’re not answering my question, Marvin.”

He didn’t cower, but he did seem slightly flustered. “I find meaning in helping you, caring for you. I want to get you out of there.”

Suddenly, there was a shift in power. I felt more comfortable in this space, being the one making the demands. “Why do you want this so badly?” I asked.

“Because I have the capabilities and the means to help you.” I kept silent. “There’s so much you don’t know. So much I can’t tell you.”

I wanted to shout, to cry. To stomp my heels against the cement floor and beg for the truth like some petulant child pleading with her father. But he wasn’t my father, and I hadn’t been a child in a very, very long time. Even during our sessions, I did all the talking. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to listen. “Why?” I asked, yet again. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because my answer will only hurt you.”

I leaned forward, grabbed the lapels of his jacket and reached my neck up until my lips were close to his ear. If he wouldn’t respond to my insistence, maybe he’d respond to sexual force instead. “Tell me, Marvin,” I said seductively. “Hurt me.”

His hands clasped mine and he pulled away from my face. He stared into my eyes and squeezed my fingers, his lips parting as though there were words fighting to be released. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

I nodded. “I do. I want the truth. Give me the truth.”

His eyes circled the room twice before landing on mine again. “I didn’t want you to find out this way. Not here; not tonight...
your
night.”

“Tell me,” I begged him.

He held my gaze and cupped my hands in his. “I’m your father, Charlie.”

My hand gripped the doorknob to my apartment, squeezing the cold chrome between my fingers and palm. My other hand held the key and a piece of Lilly’s old, damaged sweater. I had cut off a tiny section and stuck it in my clutch before I had left for the exhibit. I had wanted something to alleviate my nerves, to help me get through the night. I thought the sweater would do that for me. But I had forgotten all about it when I had arrived at the gallery, when Professor Freeman introduced me, as I had made my way around the room meeting all of his guests. I cuddled it now; I felt like I needed it more than ever. Its smoky odor gave me an unlikely steadiness. It was a reminder of something that hadn’t changed while everything else around me—everything I thought I knew—was shifting beneath my feet.

I slid the key in the lock; when the metals touched, I paused. My stomach churned, my whole body froze. During the ride home, I had tried to burn away the Doctor’s words...his face, his expression. The shape his mouth had taken when it formed the word
father
. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let any of it go. My bones crackled, feeling weighted down and as immovable as the building I stood in. There was a mass forming in my chest, spreading toward my throat, and thumping against my ribcage. The Doctor…my father…had broken something open inside of me.

Father
wasn’t the only word I couldn’t get rid of, couldn’t suppress the feeling or the meaning of.
You have far greater value in the world than you’ve given yourself credit for,
he’d said.
You’re better than the mansion; you’re better than Lilly.
I couldn’t seem to purge any of that from my head, either. It plagued me now, haunted me, no less than if her ghost itself had appeared in my presence.

Was I really better than Lilly?

Was who I wanted to be truly stronger than who I already was?

My nights at the mansion were a release; the lack of emotion, the all-consuming impulse to fuck and be fucked, the way it drained my mind—all of it kept me in motion, kept me moving. Comforted me. Sex held me at night, kept me from dwelling in the pain, from remembering and regretting. It was the only time I didn’t feel alone...aside from the time I spent with Cameron.

Cameron.

We had kissed. I had told him he was the inspiration for
The Kiss
. In my own way—a way that made me comfortable and allowed me to retain control—I had shared my feelings with him. And I believed that he had shown me his, in his own way as well.

I have a father?

The thought invaded.

I had told myself I wouldn’t do anything with Cameron while I was still employed at the mansion. But I hadn’t stopped his lips from touching mine, and I hadn’t kept my wanting him from consuming me. What did that make me?

I have a father?

Why was I really at the mansion? For so long, I had focused on the things that I enjoyed about it, but there were so many things that I didn’t: the rawness I felt inside my pussy after each shift, or the bruises on my wrists...or the handprints on my ass. Or the emptiness afterward, how my body felt as though it were entombed in ice whenever I left my wing.

What was I really craving?

It had never been just the sex, or the money.

I have a father...

Love and attention was what I wanted, from a man or woman. I was starving for it, and though it was only temporary, they fulfilled me. They coddled me; appreciated me. Needed me physically, if not emotionally. But they would never be my
dawn
.

Did that make me worse than Lilly?

She was the last person I wanted to emulate...and yet, I was becoming her shadow. I needed to stop, to change.
To move on from the past.
I hadn’t been able to make Lilly treat me better...but that wasn’t a reason to seek love through sex. I hadn’t been able to prevent the accident, and I would never be able to bring Emma back...but that wasn’t an excuse for letting men into my home, into my bed.

I have a father.

I tried to inhale, but my throat tightened. I could almost hear the Doctor telling me to relax, to let go and take deep breaths. But the darkness within me was almost too much to bear, too heavy to carry.

I turned the key and heard the falling of the tumblers echo in my head. The lock surrendered too easily. I didn’t want to move. Lilly’s sweater provided modest comfort. It reminded me yet again of what I didn’t want my life to be.

I pushed the door inward; Lilly came in with me. I took a step forward, and so did she. I took another step, and the shadows that lingered behind me threatened to pull me back. They tried to convince me that the mansion and its money were all I would ever need. They showed me the visions of failure and hunger, both of which were likely to happen if I left. They convinced me that my dream of having success like Cameron’s was a fairy tale, a childish fantasy that I had allowed to drag me into its folly.

I moved inside the apartment and pressed my back against the closest wall, sliding down until my ass hit the floor. The shadows were there, too; they kissed my damp cheeks. Lilly’s beaten sweater was still cupped in my hand. My knees pressed into my chest as I swallowed gulps of air infused with Lilly’s scent, trying to loosen the knots that filled me.

I have a father.

My eyes glanced over my new bed. I yearned for the warmth that awaited me under the blanket, for the comfort of being held within those sheets. It wasn’t the only new thing here. The TV was new, too, and most of my clothes. Everything in the kitchen, everything in the bathroom. The smells and the sounds and the sights. I needed
new
—new places; new things.

More than those, I needed a new direction.

I had no more excuses, no more reason for wanting to be at the mansion. I wanted more now, and I wanted it with Cameron. Tonight had gone so well; paintings had sold, requests had been made.
New
was waiting for me, welcoming me, just beyond the shadows.

The handle jiggled behind me and the door swung open. ”What are you doing on the floor?” Dallas asked.

My head was swimming through so much, I’d forgotten that I had sent him a text from the taxi, that I’d told him I had met my father.

His hands slipped underneath me, and he lifted me into the air. He said nothing while he carried me to the bed, while he wrapped me in the blanket. I kept silent. I didn’t look in his eyes.

“Talk to me,” he said. “Tell me what happened.” He sat beside me, one leg tucked and the other hanging off the bed, waiting for me to speak.

I stared at his hands, the way they were folded in his lap. My eyes slowly moved up to his face. His concern was everywhere; his gaze tore through me. “He came to the exhibit,” I told him. “He knew Professor Freeman. He waited until we were alone to introduce himself.” I pulled the blanket tighter and rubbed Lilly’s sweater over my cheek.

“How did he find out?” he asked. “Has he known since you were born or did Lilly tell him before she died?” It made no more sense to him than it did to me.

“I don’t know.”

And by revealing what little information I did have would mean telling Dallas about the mansion. I didn’t want that to happen.

“I just want you to know, Charlie: when Lilly and I spoke, she didn’t tell me anything about your father.” His hands moved to my knees. “I promise. All she told me was exactly what you’ve always said, that she didn’t know who he was, that he could have been any of the men she’d been sleeping with during that time.”

My whole body began to shake.

“I’m so fucked up.”

He inched closer and shook my knees until my eyes moved back to his. “Why would you say that? You met your father tonight, and however that happened or for whatever reason, none of this has been your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I had done
so many things
wrong, but I didn’t want to get into any of it. I knew the truth now, and that’s what mattered. I knew that I had used Dallas and my clients to fuck the memories out of my head temporarily, to hold me...to
love
me and give me what I thought I never had. I’d tried to replace one type of ache with another, and that’s exactly what had happened. But knowing this didn’t excuse what Lilly had done, and it didn’t explain why she’d done it.

I tried to stand up from the bed, but Dallas’s hands went to my shoulders and kept me down. “Get it out,” he said. “Whatever is bothering you, just say it.”

“She owed me the explanation, not you,” I told him. “I’m her fucking
daughter
!”