Page 98 of Reckless Devotion

The story never ends there. When someone violates you, you don’t sail off into the future as a functioning and joyfulperson. Something was taken from you, something that you can never take back, and that leaves a mark. Fear, anger, shame—all of these things we carry like albatrosses around our necks. For me, it was secluding myself away in my workshop for weeks on end, fixing things because I couldn’t fix myself.

“I went to the police, told them everything, and they called his dad.” She huffs out a breath, staring at my chest and shaking her head slowly. “Can you believe that? A young girl confesses that she’s just been assaulted, and they call the father of the guy who raped her.”

I cement my jaw together to prevent myself from letting out the torrent of curse words that rattle around my head, and I make a mental note to find out who those cops were and take away everything they love in life…one by one.

“They left me in the interview room for hours, no support, no offer to take me to the emergency room. And then he was there, Jeremy Rénir Senior…laying into me for lying about his son.” Her umber eyes climb to mine, incredulous and fiery. “No one believed me, not the police, or my school—and of course everyone knew. Rénir Junior told everyone who would listen about the foster care slut that gave it up to him without a fight. The one who was too drunk to even warn him she had her period.”

Her hesitation earlier about blood now makes perfect sense. It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to leap up and start pacing just to do something with this fraying dark thing inside me that wants to tear the world to pieces listening to her story.

“But Ididfight, Chase. I need you to know that.” She grits her teeth, tears flowing. “That’s what was so infuriating, because if the police just believed me enough to check, they would have found my claw marks all over him.”

I swallow roughly, nodding. “I have no doubt that you did.”

“I spent my last two years in that town being universally hated and accused of being a liar, so the moment I could afford to leave…I did.”

I tuck a strand of stray hair behind her ear, eternally grateful that fate sent her my way. She shivers, her long lashes fluttering shut momentarily before she whispers. “Why was he here?”

I draw in a slow breath through my nose and draw the back of my knuckle along her sharp cheekbone. “I don’t know, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t come here again.”

And that’s a fucking promise.

Chapter 34

Lucian Driver:I have what you’re after.

Chase:Send it over.

Lucian Driver:Are you planning on doing something stupid?

Chase:Does that sound like my style?

Lucian Driver:Point taken.

CHASE

“How did you know you were in love with Mason?”

Mia’s lipstick-coated mouth twitches at my side, her ocean gaze never wavering from the milling crowd of dancing patrons in the ballroom below drenched in glamorous attire.

The annual Walker Charity Fashion Show has been a roaring success as always, even if my mother decided not to show up. Emily had been the star of the show, the high fashion model returned from Milan and lending her talent to our charity showcase. The garments have been suitably shown off, and the charity has fundraised over three million dollars in pledges. Ishould be thrilled, but a heavy ballast lives in my stomach—where it has ever since Pepper shared her story with me.

“When I saw all of his fractured pieces and wanted him exactly as he was,” she responds quietly over the tinkle of piano music below. When she turns to face me, she offers a warm smile.

I return it, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and squeezing her into my side. Even though Mason and I haven’t spoken a word since the Hamptons, I remain endlessly grateful he somehow fumbled his way into marrying Mia. She’s a second sister to me, and I can’t imagine life without her.

“When are you going to tell her?” Mia slides a knowing glance my way.

“Don’t do that matchmaker shit with me, sweetheart, I don’t need it.” Rolling my eyes, I drop my arm from her shoulders and take a sip of scotch.

“Hmm,” she hums discerningly, tipping back a sip of sparkling champagne from a slim flute.

“Can I cut in?” The deep gravelly tone I recognize from behind makes my jaw flex.

I turn to see Mason enter the discreetly hidden balcony overlooking the ballroom, and watch as he silently communicates with his wife in that way they always do.

“I’ll leave you boys to it,” Mia says quietly, pausing to squeeze my arm affectionately on her way out, the long champagne trail of her dress slithering across a deep red carpet.

Silence falls as Mason takes up a position beside me and I make zero effort to change it. I throw back the rest of my drink—so large a mouthful that it makes my whole throat burn on the way down—and suck the inside of my teeth audibly. For a mad moment, I contemplate smashing the thick crystal glass over my own head just to have an excuse to leave.