Page 56 of Because I Need You
Dean: Carson Riley, esq.
He sent another text with the address.
And another with background information about the man. I clicked on it and read a few points, but it wasn’t like it would make a difference. It could have been said he was a loving husband and doting father and it still wouldn’t change his fate. Maybe people changed. Maybe we shouldn’t cast judgement on others, especially when we had dirt on our own hands. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I didn’t give a fuck. He was dying today. I got my shit together fast, the adrenaline still buzzing through me as I opened my door and walked out. Isabel’s was still closed as I headed toward the elevator. When I reached it, I unlocked it, pushed the button, and called Petra as soon as I stepped inside.
“Yep,” she said as a greeting.
“Take her back to Chicago. To my place, not the house. Don’t let her out of your fucking sight this time.”
“I didn’t let her out of my sight last time, boss,” she said, and I could hear the cockiness in her voice. I clenched my other fist tight as she added. “We were right outside.”
“Don’t leave her in a room with a fucking man, Petra,” I growled. “Or a woman. Or a fucking dog for that matter. You go to the fucking bathroom and stand there as she takes a shit if that’s what it’ll take to keep her safe.”
“Got it.” She had the nerve to laugh. “You’re real testy about this one. I like it.”
“Shut up.” I hung up the phone.
When the elevator reached the first floor, I found Tony sitting in a chair, on a FaceTime call with Nadia. When I approached, Nadia’s eyes widened on the screen.
“Someone’s pissed off,” she said. Tony turned around quickly.
“We need to go,” I said to him, then looked at Nadia. She must have read the expression on my face correctly because her eyes widened.
“Be careful,” she said quickly, looking at me, then at her husband. “Please be careful.”
I gave a nod. Someone would die today, but it wasn’t going to be us.
24
ISABEL
I boarded the private jet with Petra and Joey Z in tow. It was a different one than the one we’d taken the other day. It was always a different one, but it was always the same two pilots and the same woman handing us drinks and snacks. Neither of them spoke much. They just smiled when they were supposed to and gave as much (or little) information as they could. I appreciated that in a way, especially today. I kept looking between the window beside me and the door, which was still open, waiting for him to waltz in at any moment. He hadn’t ridden with us. He hadn’t even been there when I got out of my bedroom. I didn’t know why, but I needed to look in his, just to make sure he was gone, and he was. The bed was unmade, the sheets all wrinkled from our night together. My heart felt heavy as I left the apartment and followed Petra to the car. Something changed after I told him what that man did to me. I knew it would. Maybe that was why I’d never spoken about it. There was an underlying shame to it all. Like maybe I’d been at fault for it. In my nightmares, I’d replayed it over, and over, trying to figure out what I’d done or said or worn or what kind of smile I must have had on my face for them to target me. I knew it wasn’t any of those things. I knew I wasn’t the problem. I knew that if the world were a good place, I’d be able to walk outside completely naked and not worry about a man thinking my nudity had anything to do with him. But that wasn’t the world we lived in.
Giovanni had been the first person I told. Maybe because I knew he wouldn’t judge me, not really. And he didn’t, but he did get pissed, and that made me get even more mad because what the fuck? I’d been the one who endured that night and every single night after that. I’d been the one to pick myself up and take myself to a therapist when I realized the nightmares weren’t going away and that I couldn’t just go back to class and finish my semester. I’d been the one to fight for online schooling for the remainder of my college years and miss out on the full experience, because if the full experience meant dealing with entitled assholes who thought everything, including other people’s bodies, belonged to them, I wanted no part in it. I’d been the one to get up every morning, look in the mirror, and make the choice that I wouldn’t let it define who I was. So, for him to be upset? It annoyed me. Maybe I should have felt proud or happy or turned on? But I didn’t. I felt annoyed and through the annoyance I tried to tell myself it was irrational, but I knew it wasn’t. No feeling was irrational. Feelings were feelings, and we were free to experience them and make of them whatever we wanted. So, annoyed it was. I was grateful I’d made him promise not to touch me, too. I was grateful when he agreed and grateful when he stopped himself. It took pulling a knife on him, but he didn’t come any closer. Whether or not the knife was the deterrent, I wasn’t sure.
