Paetyn’s POV
“How is she doing on the new medication? There haven't been any complications, have there?”
Dr. Charles Barney shakes his head. Strands of thin silver hair fall over his pale brown eyes. He makes no move to push them out of his line of sight, instead choosing to ignore their existence and look down at the chart gripped firmly in his hands. “As of right now, she’s responding well to the chemotherapy, but we will ensure we keep a close eye on her at all times. If anything goes wrong with the process and we need to go down a different path of treatment, you’ll be the first to know, Paetyn. The cancer is different this time. Stronger. But… we’ll figure it out.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, my shoulders slumping ever so slightly. Knowing that Mom is being taken care of by the wonderful team at the hospital, led by Dr. Barney, brings a sense of peace I have been searching for since the moment she was admitted many months ago. Taking care of a parent is hard enough for anyone because they don’t want to see their loved one in a situation that requires such care from their child. But it’s a whole different ballpark taking care of a cancer-filled parent who loves you too much to want you to see them like that—sick and afraid.
Mom knew something was wrong with her for quite some time before she decided to go in and get tested to see what was going on the first time she started feeling bad, about five years ago. She was a busy woman with a corporate job in marketing, going on dates after my father left her a few years before that, with a jam-packed social life. A woman like that doesn’t want to admit that something is wrong with her. To admit that is to realize that the life you once knew, filled with fun and exciting times, was probably never going to be the same again. She beat cancer once before, but now it is back with a vengeance.
“Thank you,” I say softly, forcing a smile. It’s hard to smile when my mom is going through chemotherapy for ovarian cancer. “Knowing you’re taking care of her puts my mind at ease, so thank you.”
Dr. Barney pats my shoulder, his smile tight. “It’s no problem, really. Your mother is in good hands with us.” He stands upright, his eyes focused on mine. In an apologetic tone, he says, “These treatments are very expensive but well worth it.”
I swallow hard, trying not to reveal the worry that zapped through my body seeing the amount of digits at the end of the bill I’d recently received. We’ve managed to pay all the previous bills, with the help of my fiance, but it is still scary every time I get a massive bill like that. “Yes, they are expensive. Rest assured that the bill will be paid on time.”
Dr. Barney nods uncomfortably. I’m sure he wasn’t trying to imply I wouldn’t pay the bill, but I’ve always been touchy about such things, especially since Mom’s insurance had lapsed right before she was diagnosed.
Before the doctor can respond, a nurse taps him on the shoulder, calling him away to another patient. He bids me goodbye before rushing away in the opposite direction. I watch the back of his head until he’s no longer in view. He’s a rather young-looking man, possibly in his late to mid-forties. But the gray hairs indicate how much he has aged from this job, which is fair enough. Working in the healthcare sector is no easy task.
I hesitate before entering my mom’s room. Closing my eyes, I slow my breathing, not wanting her to see the stress and worry I’m sure is written all over my face. Mom is a strong person, so I need to be the same.
The door to the private room creaks open. Mom is propped up in bed watching television, her pale blue eyes focused on the tiny screen protruding from the wall opposite her. She mindlessly braids the ends of her blonde hair before untying the knots and starting again. It’s a habit I’ve seen her do many times when I was a child. After three rounds of chemo, her hair is starting to thin considerably and is falling out in places, but it doesn’t stop her from playing with what hair she does have left. When she loses all of her hair completely, she will have to find something else to fidget with.
As I walk further into the room, her eyes snap to meet mine. They light up instantly, and a smile curves her plump lips. “My sweet, Pae. I thought I wasn’t going to see you today.”
I pull out the chair beside her bed and settle down, ignoring how cold the plastic feels against my clothed thighs. One of the things I despise most about hospitals is how goddamn cold it is here. Would it kill them to turn the heat up a little? Especially during winter.
“I managed to get off work early and thought I would stop by to see you.” My eyes scan over the white hospital gown hanging off her frail torso and the crease lines forming at the corners of her eyes and lips. She appears much older and more frail than a normal fifty-year-old woman. Having cancer will often do that to a person. “How are you feeling after this round of treatment?”
Mom waves me off with her hand. “I’m fine, sweetie. You don’t need to worry about me. The team here are taking great care of me.” She shifts in her spot and reaches out for my hand, which I gladly extend. She feels warm in my grasp, reminding me of when I was a little girl and would only find comfort in the touch of my mother’s hand. I still feel that way even as a twenty-six-year-old woman. “Tell me what’s new with you. How’s work and that fiance of yours?”
“Work is fine. I have gained a lot of new clients over the past few weeks due to our other office branch closing, so that has been keeping me busy.”
She smiles. “You’re such a hard worker, Pae. Always have been. I remember when you were just ten years old, you told me how much you wanted to help people. I thought at the time you meant as a medical doctor or something. Turns out you are an up-and-coming psychologist in New York City. You’re so close to making it big, sweetheart. I couldn’t be prouder.”
“It’s nothing, really.” I love to hear my mother’s praises as she has always been my number one supporter all through high school, university, and the many placements I had to do to get to where I am now. But at the same time, I don’t enjoy talking about myself in that way. I’m proud of myself, don’t get me wrong, but I’m more of a quiet achiever.
“How is Liam?” She changes the subject upon seeing my reluctance to talk about myself and my career. “I haven’t seen him for a little while. Is everything okay?”
Ah, yes. Liam. My fiance.
“He’s good. Just busy with the campaign. I’m sure you’ve seen him a lot on the news lately.” The smile on my face doesn’t quite reach my eyes speaking about my fiance. “He did ask me to tell you hello. With his campaign in full swing at the moment, he finds it hard to get away from the campaign trail on time most days. But we’re doing good.”
“How is the wedding planning?” she asks, giddiness in her voice. “I know I haven’t been able to help as much as I would like to, but just know that I’m always here to offer any advice you may need.” She licks her lips and squeezes my hand gently. “Believe it or not, your father and I had a wonderful wedding. We may have gotten married young, but we still had the best night.”
The mention of my father sends a jolt of hurt straight to my heart, cracking at the edges just a little more. Him leaving my mother three years ago for a woman he worked with hurt more than I thought it would. Not only did he have an affair, but he chose to cut us both out of his life because his new girlfriend told him to. The fact that he was willing to do it, to never speak to his wife or daughter again one random Tuesday afternoon, was heartbreaking. I couldn’t believe it.
My mom put on a brave face for both of us, but I could see how deep his betrayal went. She was good at hiding her feelings from everyone around her, but I could read her like a book. She was hurt and angry. But she hid it from everyone, not wanting to appear weak or broken. But I knew how she really felt. He hurt us both, but at least we had each other to lean on.
“Well, we’re still trying to figure out what flavor cake we want and how to arrange the flowers,” I say. “Any suggestions on what we should do?”
A smile lights up her face as she begins talking about different cake options and flower arrangements we could go with based on what she did for her wedding and the many articles she has read while lying in this hospital bed. Although I’m terrified for her and what her future will look like, the comfort and peace I feel at this moment, talking and laughing together like nothing is wrong, is enough to distract me from reality lurking in the corner of the room.
***
The cold wind slaps against my cheeks and nose the moment I step through the front doors of the hospital. Winter in New York City means freezing temperatures at night that require many layers of clothing to bring even a sliver of warmth to your cold body. It’s one of the many reasons why I tend to rush home after work. I would much rather be cuddled up on the sofa in front of the fireplace than shivering in the light dusting of snow falling from the sky.
But seeing my mom was important. I would do anything for her, even brave the freezing temperatures.
The parking lot is almost empty as I trudge toward my car, my arms wrapped tightly around my chest to create some warmth. When I arrived after work, the lot was jam-packed with cars, forcing me to park at the very back in one of the last free spaces. While it is annoying having to walk so far to the front doors, I am grateful for the moments of silence it gave me before having to face Dr. Barney. But now I’m just cold, tired, and ready to get home.
When my car comes into my line of sight, a cold shiver races down my spine, stopping me in my tracks. The shiver isn’t caused by the wind and snowflakes lashing across my skin. No, that kind of shiver is caused by unwanted eyes watching from the shadows. Stalking, even. The kind of stare that makes a person’s entire body freeze with fear.
My heart hammers harshly against my rib cage as my eyes slowly scan the parking lot. The area is mostly dark besides the few street lamps illuminating the large space. There are plenty of dark areas for someone to hide in, waiting for me to get close enough so they can snatch me up and steal me away without anyone noticing.
The thought sends another chill racing down my spine.
Without so much as thinking through my next movements, I take off running toward my car, not caring if the person watching me follows too. All I need to do is get to the safety of my car and lock the doors, shutting them out completely. It’s not much of a plan, nor is it a smart one, but it’s the only option I have. There is not a chance I’m going to risk staying out here with whoever is lurking around.
Blood rushes in my ears as I race toward my little black 2009 Nissan. The headlights flash at me as I use the key fob to unlock the car. My fingers shake as I yank the door handle harshly and slide into the comfort of the front seat. Within seconds, the locks slip into place, and silence settles over me.
Adrenaline coursing through my veins has my heart beating erratically. Scanning the parking lot, I don’t see any signs of movement. I frown, wondering if I had made up the feeling of someone watching me. But that doesn’t make sense because the shiver I felt down my spine has never failed me in dangerous or uncertain situations.
Just when I think I’m going crazy, ready to convince myself I dreamt up the entire scenario, my eye catches someone standing under the dim streetlamp across the parking lot. I squint in an attempt to get a better look at whoever it is I’m seeing. The outline appears to be that of a man, but he’s unmoving, his body as rigid as a statue. From where I’m sitting in my car, his face is covered by something, concealing his features. A mask, maybe?
“What the hell?” I murmur, unable to believe what I’m seeing. My heart races so fast I fear it might burst through my chest and land on my lap.
It’s when the man tilts his head to the side, his body facing my direction, that I realize this man is watching me and not just an innocent person waiting for someone to come out of the hospital.
Oh, shit.
My fingers fumble the car keys in my hand, shaking so badly that my whole body begins to vibrate. With some effort, I slide the key in and twist, roaring the cold engine to life. I don’t bother waiting for the car to warm up before my foot presses down on the gas pedal, lurching my car forward.
I try not to look at the person watching me from across the lot, but curiosity gets the better of me. As I’m about to turn out of the exit lane and onto the main road, I catch sight of the mask covering his face, my blood running cold. The base of the mask is black with dark red crosses over the eyes and what appears to be stitching over the mouth, set into a wide, menacing grin.
Even as I speed out of the parking lot, my tires screeching as I go, I still feel his eyes piercing through my skin, my soul. Exhaling a shaky breath, I glance in the rearview mirror to see he’s still watching me.
Paetyn’s POVMy heart rate hasn’t slowed down since the incident in the parking lot. Even as I drive further away, leaving the man standing under the streetlamp in my rearview, my heart continues to pound painfully against my rib cage, pulsating in my ears.Who was that man? And why did it feel as though his eyes were piercing through my soul from behind that mask? The car rolls to a stop in the driveway, and for the first time in twenty minutes, I exhale sharply. My lungs burn from holding onto a breath I hadn’t managed to release, and I gasp for fresh air to fill my lungs. I close my eyes and drop my hands from the steering wheel. Images of the masked man flash in my mind, sending a cold shiver racing across my skin and down my spine. Forget about it, Pae, I tell myself. Dwelling on the details of the incident isn’t going to change the fact that it happened. All I can do is be thankful that the man didn’t get close to me and that I’m home safe. Now that my breathing has calmed do
Paetyn’s POVThe voice of the client sitting across from me is slightly muffled by the rampant thoughts of the masked man racing through my mind. It has been two days since I saw him standing in my backyard, his eyes piercing me through the mask covering his features, and I haven’t stopped thinking about him. Liam told me not to worry about him, but how can I possibly not? It’s one thing to watch me from across the parking lot, but it’s another to stand in the darkness of my backyard and watch me like a hawk, making his presence known. He’s keeping his features concealed for a reason, so I’m unable to identify him, but if he’s going out of his way to let me know he’s there, watching me, then why hasn’t he made a move yet? What is he waiting for? The thought of him doing something to hurt me sends a shiver across my body, goosebumps pebbling my skin from beneath the cardigan wrapped tightly around my torso. I haven’t been able to sleep much the past two days for fear that I would see
Paetyn’s POVFor a split second, my brain convinces me I’m blind. Darkness surrounds me, engulfing me whole and holding me hostage. But the soft buzzing working its way into the depths of my mind tells me that I haven’t been completely dragged down to the depths of hell with no sight of return. Not yet, at least.My head thumps painfully, the source coming from deep behind my eyes. The rhythmic movement echoes in my ears, making it hard to think straight. I try my best to force my hand up to cradle my head, hoping it’ll ease the pain, but my limbs are heavy. Too heavy to move. With a groan, I fight against the pain coursing through my body to force my eyes open. At first, it’s almost painful. My eyelids feel as though they’ve been glued shut, keeping me from seeing. But with a great deal of effort, I pry them open and am immediately assaulted by a warm, orange glow above me. A hiss slips past my lips as I fight to clear my vision. The sudden intrusion of light hitting my eyes only i
Paetyn’s POVFor a split second, my brain convinces me I’m blind. Darkness surrounds me, engulfing me whole and holding me hostage. But the soft buzzing working its way into the depths of my mind tells me that I haven’t been completely dragged down to the depths of hell with no sight of return. Not yet, at least.My head thumps painfully, the source coming from deep behind my eyes. The rhythmic movement echoes in my ears, making it hard to think straight. I try my best to force my hand up to cradle my head, hoping it’ll ease the pain, but my limbs are heavy. Too heavy to move. With a groan, I fight against the pain coursing through my body to force my eyes open. At first, it’s almost painful. My eyelids feel as though they’ve been glued shut, keeping me from seeing. But with a great deal of effort, I pry them open and am immediately assaulted by a warm, orange glow above me. A hiss slips past my lips as I fight to clear my vision. The sudden intrusion of light hitting my eyes only i
Paetyn’s POVA deep voice booms through the wooden door of the room, startling me awake. My heart slams into my throat as I force myself into a seated position, clutching the sheets to my chest.What the hell is going on?Even though I’ve only heard the masked man speak a few times, I recognize his voice. His tone is deep and unlike anything I’ve ever heard. But who is he talking to? No one responds to him, so I can only assume he’s speaking to someone on the phone.His muffled voice filters throughout the room, but soon his words become clearer as if he’s pacing the floor outside, getting closer and closer to the door. The desire burning deep in my chest to know what he’s saying consumes me. If I want to know more about this man and potentially learn why I’m here, I need to listen in on the conversation.Without making a noise, I slide off the creaky matt
Paetyn’s POVI blink at him, unable to form a single thought, let alone a sentence to respond to his comment. The masked man blurs in my vision as I process his insane suggestion.Thinking about him? Has he lost his damn mind? In what world would I be thinking sexually about the man who kidnapped me, has had me chained to a dingy bed for days, and refuses to speak to me? The thought is insane, that’s what it is.And yet, I feel the dampness between my thighs from my fantasy from moments ago when I thought about him touching me, his large hands caressing my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I shiver at the thought.Yeah, I’m a fucking liar because I am thinking about him, and that’s the problem.But I won’t admit that to him, no matter how long he sits there and stares at me with his head tilted to the side as he regards me.God, I’m pathetic.
Paetyn’s POVThe longer I sit on the mattress, staring at the moldy roof, and counting each time the masked man enters the room, the more I begin to lose my goddamn mind. Just as I thought would happen. Each second ticks by painfully slow, leaving me with nothing to do but sit and think. Think about the situation I’m in. Think about my mother and if she’s okay. And think about the masked man and the tension between us that only seems to grow each time he visits my room.A few days have passed since I got myself off to my captor. Shame and guilt have plagued me ever since, reminding me how terrible of a person I am. I have a fiance searching for me, and here I am finger fucking myself at the thought of another man. The same man who kidnapped me.I’m beyond fucked up. Or maybe I’m just going crazy the longer I’m trapped inside these four walls. The walls feel as though they’re closin
Paetyn’s POVMy eyes snap open, and my heart thunders in my chest. I open my mouth to speak, but only a puff of air escapes, followed by the realization that I’m fucked.I want to tell him he’s insane, but the dampness between my thighs gives me away, calling me a liar. I would rather lose every ounce of air from my lungs before admitting he’s right. Hell, I don’t even know why my body is reacting to my kidnapper this way, but I’m helpless to stop it. At this point, it has a mind of its own, and apparently, that entails being turned on by being held captive.Liam’s face appears in my mind, reminding me how wrong this is and why I shouldn’t be thinking about a stranger the way I am, but when he tightens his grip around my throat, the image disappears, replaced with burning desire deep in my core.Goddamnit.“I asked you a question,” he utters, his voice dangerously low. He drags his nose across my cheek, his war
Ace’s POVA scream pierces through the air, sharp and painful. Any normal person would cringe at the sound or be filled with such fear it would make their knees wobble like a newborn fawn. But I’m not a normal person. Never claimed to be. I’m the fucking devil. I squat in front of the man chained to the roof of the basement in the Gambino mansion. His trembling arms are attached to the hook on the low ceiling by a thick metal clasp. He hangs there helplessly, leaving the rest of his body exposed to me to do with as I please. My gaze rakes over the sweat and blood clinging to his pale skin. Bruises and gashes paint his body like the finest piece of artwork, thanks to my fists. Electricity thrums through my veins at the sight of this kid, not much older than nineteen if I had to guess. I should feel some ounce of remorse for punishing someone who is nowhere near mature enough to understand his actions. And some part of me wants to feel that because he doesn’t know any better. But I d
Paetyn’s POVI’m concerned about Ace. Last week, I noticed he had busted knuckles that were split and beginning to bruise around the torn skin. When I asked what happened to him, he gave me that same straight-faced look I always get when I asked questions about his job. I know he is an enforcer and has to hurt people, but it doesn’t make me any less worried about him when he leaves in the morning. Not knowing if he’s out on the streets in danger sends me into a spiral more often than not. I know he’s a man capable of looking after himself, but it still doesn’t ease the tension in my chest. He won’t tell me the details of his job, and I don’t expect him to, but sometimes I think I would be better off knowing to help me relax a little more. But until that day comes—if ever—I will have to get used to worrying about my boyfriend. Boyfriend. It’s an odd feeling thinking of him as that. Who would’ve known that Ace, my kidnapper and stalker, would become my boyfriend? Certainly not me, bu
Ace’s POVEnzo was adamant about this shakedown going smoothly. He doesn’t want a single thing to go wrong. The goal is to get the message across to the Bonanno crew and their leader, Antonio, that we’re not to be messed with. If they don’t back off, Enzo will have no problem coming at them full force with me at his side. And unfortunately for them, I like getting my hands dirty. All the made men in the group stand around me, black hoods covering their heads, concealing their identities. Enzo ensured they were equipped with every weapon under the sun that’ll be useful in protecting them if shit goes south. I’d like to think I have this under control. After all, Enzo trusted me to do this, so I’m going to do it right. “Does everyone remember the plan?” My voice is quiet but deep in an attempt to not be detected where we stand in the shadows of the quarry. The full moon is our only source of light, which works in our favor for staying hidden. “The Bonanno crew have a gun shipment comi
Ace’s POVIt took every ounce of self control I possessed to not kill Patrick Aster with my bare hands. The smug look on his face when he told Paetyn to publicly name herself as an obsessed ex-fiancee to save Liam’s ass, and in return she’ll recieve one million dollars, had me seeing red. If Paetyn wasn’t standing in front of me, I would have lunged for the motherfucker. As much as I wanted to paint my hands red with his blood for having the audacity to speak to my girl that way, I reigned in my temper and allowed her to make her own decisions. Plus, I got far too much enjoyment out of seeing his face when I answered as her boyfriend. I’m sure Pat will have a swell time informing his son of that development. Paetyn trails me as we walk the small pathway to the front door of our house. Her presence behind me is all-consuming, like a wildfire licking at my back, ready to devour me. Every inch of her is ingrained in my mind—there isn’t a thing I don’t know about this woman or what she
Paetyn’s POVThe Aster mansion sends chills down my spine. Every dinner I ate with them consisted of Liam and Pat talking about politics while Angie smiled and nodded along as if it were the most riveting of topics. I was always bored out of my mind because not only am I not interested in politics, but they hardly ever included me in their conversation. All they cared about was their precious son. The same son who had me kidnapped and held hostage as a trick for his campaign.I never thought I’d be back here after I ended the engagement with Liam, but now, here I stand, staring down the barrel of the gun. My muscles itch, desperate for me to turn around and hightail it back to the comfort of Ace’s house where I know I’m safe. Here… anything can happen. No one is truly safe in the presence of Patrick Aster.“Pae, are you okay?” Ace’s hand rests on my shoulder, his chest brushing my back. I lean into the warmth of his hand, soaking in the comfort his gentle touch brings me. “If you
Paetyn’s POVMy legs ache as I pace the bedroom, hands clasped firmly behind my back. The skin on my bottom lip is raw from the amount of times I’ve dragged my teeth over it, thoughts lost on the phone call I received this afternoon. Pat Aster wants to meet with me. Why? Why now after weeks of this back and forth with Liam? I’m sure he’s looking to squash this fire before it grows into an inferno, but how does he think this will go? Intimidate me until I roll over and pretend this never happened? He’s delusional if he thinks I’m going to allow his son to get away with what he did to me. Liam deserves every ounce of bad karma coming his way. It would be in my best interest to tell him to shove his meeting where the sun doesn’t shine because he doesn’t deserve a second of my town. But on the other hand, curiosity is pushing me toward needing to know what Pat’s intentions are. If I don’t show up on Monday, I may never know what he wants, and that worries me more than actually meetin
Ace’s POVVoices echo through my mind like an incessant pounding of a drum, grating on every last nerve. I grit my teeth to avoid telling everyone to shut up so I can think. It doesn’t help that we’re crammed into the formal dining room in Enzo’s mansion, waiting for him to arrive. My nails dig painfully into my palms, my fists pressed to my thighs. The wooden chair creak beneath my weight as I lean back, staring at the deep mahogany table I’m sure must’ve cost a fortune. Glasses of whiskey litter the vast space, consumed at different paces by the men occupying every seat. They’re men I’ve known for many years and respect, but right now, I want to get lost in my thoughts about a certain silver-haired woman. Walking the streets of New York City with Paetyn a few days ago was unexpected, and, dare I say, relaxing–eventually. The moment we stepped out of my house, her hand wrapped in mine, tension lined every muscle in my body. Even through lunch, I couldn’t help but feel as though som
Paetyn’s POV“Thank you for coming in today, Ben.” I push open the door to my office and move to the side, locking my gaze on the man not much older than me rising from his seat on the couch. “I have you scheduled for two weeks from today for your next session.”Ben rubs the back of his neck, unable to meet my eyes as he steps past me into the hallway. “Thank you, Miss Jones.” His large frame turns in the hallway, brown eyes lifting from the ground to meet mine. “I needed this.”I smile. “I’m glad to hear that. You’re making great progress with your anxiety and depression, so keep up with the techniques we spoke about today, and then we can discuss how they’ve helped in our next session.”Ben nods. “Of course. I’ll see you in two weeks.”My grip on the handle tightens, and I lift my hand in a wave. “Take care, Ben.” My client turns and walks down the hallway, disappearing into the foyer.I exhale a sharp breath and run a hand down the side of my face, exhaustion settling into my bones
Paetyn’s POV“I really shouldn’t have had that extra pizza slice.” A soft groan escapes my parted lips as I rub my stomach, regretting my recent choices. “You said you were hungry,” Ace points out, his arm brushing mine as we wander through Central Park. His hand tightens around my fingers, as if he’s claiming me for everyone to see. “I was only doing what you asked of me.”“I know,” I whine, tilting my head back with a pout turning down my lips. “But I wish you had told me no or dragged me past the food stand. It feels like my stomach is creating the largest food baby known to mankind.”Ace snorts a laugh. “Pae, you’re being dramatic.”“I don’t know that I am,” I murmur, returning my gaze forward. Central Park has to be the most stunning place during winter. Frost and snow cover the grass lining the walkway, and the benches require a mini snow plougher to rid them of the thick snow. Footprints from hundreds of people span the width of the walkway, telling a story of eager tourists