HOME IS A MANSION.
The house is three stories and so big I don’t see the end of it. It’s even located on the outskirts of town, which means Alexander is a private man.
The entire front of the house is made of glass. The whole scene seems more like a monumental museum than a place where people live.
A circular garden surrounds the front of the house with trees cut into geometrical shapes. Beds of colorful tulips and roses decorate the space between trees.
A kidney-shaped pool sits in the distance. A low, thumping of music comes from that direction.
Alexander pushes my wheelchair, telling me about the house, how I brought it to life when I used to live here and how he left my room unchanged. He shows me the vast grassy area where I used to practice my moves for the cheerleading squad.
Apparently, I’ve been a cheerleader since high school. Even though I’m studying human sciences at Blackwood, I still cheer for the team.
Seriously, why the hell would I continue doing that stuff three years after high school?
The more I learn about myself, the clearer the picture becomes.
My entire life is like a jigsaw of plastic pieces.
I’m rich—well, Alexander is. My father could’ve been rich too since he was best friends with him.
“What did my father do?” I ask Alexander.
“Gareth was a real estate mogul.” His tone is sad, and it affects me, too.
“So he was rich?”
“Rich?” He laughs with no humor. “He was a tycoon, Rei. He owned half of Blackwood, and now you do, of course.”
I couldn’t care less whether I’m rich or not, but for some reason, I’m glad I have some sort of independence. I’d hate to think Alex took me in as a type of charity case.
“Your father was…” He trails off as if weighing his words. “He had some connection to a bad crowd, so if you remember anything, tell me first.”
My spine jerks upright as I slowly turn around in my chair. Alex stands there with a neutral expression.
“What type of bad crowd?”
“It’s better if you don’t know.”
“I knew before I lost my memories, right?”
“Not exactly.”
“Alex.” My tone turns pleading. “Have you seen my face? Someone wanted me dead. If there’s a threat to my life, I have the right to know.”
He halts in front of majestic double doors with a black and white marble pattern, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Gareth did business with the mafia. Italian, Russian. You name it.”
“T-the mafia?”
“Correct. I have my suspicions considering your assault.”
“You think they did this to me? Dad’s enemies?”
He stands in front of me, sparing me the pain of leaning back. My neck muscles sag in relief when I return at a normal angle.
“They weren’t your dad’s enemies, that’s why it’s weird they’re coming after you, let alone three years after his death.” He crouches in front of me. “I’m your lawyer, Reina. If there’s anything I need to know, tell me.”
“I-I don’t know.” My tongue feels heavy in my mouth. “Why are you so sure it’s the mafia? Can’t it be someone else?”
“This has their fingerprints all over it. The assault, the break-in, and the black van that was camped near the hospital as soon as you were admitted.”
That’s bad. Super bad. “Does this mean I’m still in danger?”
“They disappeared, but they can always return.”
“The police?”
He scoffs. “They’re useless and they think Gareth’s business is still tied to the mob. They’re after you, not with you, Reina. You need to understand that.”
“I do.”
“I need to know what we’re dealing with. If you remember anything, I have to be the first to know, okay?”
I nod slowly.
Alex nods back and rises to his feet, then wheels me inside. My heartbeat hammers at the load of information I just learned. The mafia. Why the hell would my father get involved with something so dangerous and where do I fit in the entire picture?
A plump woman with bright blonde hair quickens her footsteps toward us. She stops and wipes her hands on her apron, gaze kind but distant.
“Welcome back, Miss Reina. I hope you’re feeling better.” She speaks with a slight Southern accent.
I stare at Alex, silently asking who she is.
“This is Elizabeth,” he says. “She takes care of the house.”
“So it’s true.” The corners of her eyes pull downward. “You remember nothing.”
I nod slowly, feeling awful that I’ve completely wiped her—and everyone else—from my memory.
“It’s okay, darlin’.” She takes my wheelchair from Alex’s hands.
He places his phone to his ear as he takes the stairs to the left. “Elizabeth will take good care of you. Let me know if you need anything, Reina.”
He disappears before I can say anything.
“He’s a busy man, isn’t he?” I ask Elizabeth.
“I’m surprised he took the time to bring you home from the hospital—” She cuts herself off and quickly follows with, “Not that he wasn’t worried about you. He was, but…well—”
“His work comes first.” I finish for her.
“Well, yes.”
I kind of figured that out with the amount of time he spent on the phone the whole way here.
“He does care, though,” she murmurs, as if speaking to herself.
Once we reach the stairs, I place my hands on the armrests of the chair and attempt to stand up. Soreness erupts throughout my muscles.
“It’s okay.” Elizabeth tries to keep me down. “I’ll call Jason to come and help carry you up.”
“No need.” I stand, using the railing for balance. Something tells me I hate imposing on people or asking them for something I can do on my own.
The sound of the music continues thumping from outside.
“On second thought.” I sit back down and try to maneuver the chair without triggering the pain in my shoulders.
“You okay there, darlin’?” Elizabeth keeps me in place, stopping me from falling sideways.
“Yeah. I want to see what’s going on outside.”
“Well…umm…” Her gaze darts back and forth.
“What is it?”
“It’s better you don’t.”
“What do you mean? Who’s out there?”
“Your college friends.”
I smile. “One more reason to meet them.”
Maybe like Dr. Anderson said, seeing familiar faces will finally shake me out of this zombie trance and give me something to look forward to.
Like regaining my memories.
“Right.” She pauses, glancing sideways as if trying to find a way out—of what, I don’t know. “Maybe it’s because you don’t remember that you don’t care, but the old Reina would never let others see her this way.”
I glance down at myself and the simple denim dress the nurse helped me put on at the hospital. Before we left, Erika helped me wash and dry my hair. It’s neatly tucked into a ponytail, and I look presentable enough. There shouldn’t be a reason why Elizabeth would think otherwise.
“What way?” I ask.
She motions at my face. “All bruised and not in top shape.”
“Don’t tell me I used to get done up to meet my friends?”
“Done up?” She laughs in a heartfelt way. “You never stepped outside unless you looked like a goddess.”
Okay, that’s even more superficial than anything I’ve heard about my life thus far. Why would I care so much about my appearance when, according to the picture the detective showed me, I’m naturally pretty?
It’s not like I’m a model or something.
An urge pushes me to go see what’s going on out there, but what Elizabeth just told me stops me in place. I can’t go against what the old me used to do just because I want to.
I must’ve had a reason for acting the way I did.
Deep down, I refuse to believe I’m that vain or plastic or another stereotypical cheerleader.
Unless I figure out my reasons for having them in the first place, I can’t break any patterns. I can’t ruin my life just because I lost my memories.
Besides, as Dr. Anderson said, all of this is temporary. I’ll remember everything sooner rather than later.
Right?
A commotion comes from a huge double door to our right. Male and female voices and laughter filter in all at once.
“We can hide in the kitchen,” Elizabeth whispers, turning my chair.
I clutch her hand, stopping her. I might not want to ruin Old Reina’s lifestyle, but I’m not running away in what’s supposed to be my home.
Sure, I don’t remember it, but it still counts as my home.
My confidence crumbles the moment I make eye contact with the person I never wanted to see again.
Asher.
Isn’t he supposed to be at Oxford? Alex said he studied in England, didn’t he?
He should be in England.
He laughs along at something someone said at his side, but his entire focus is on me.
Like a hunter.
The air ripples with tension and dark intentions. It licks at my skin like rusty knives.
Dark aviators sit on his straight, arrogant nose, so I can’t see his eyes, and it pisses me off.
I can’t get a read on him, and I feel like I always need to predict his moves.
He’s wearing white shorts and a black T-shirt that tightens around his cut abdomen and sculpted biceps.
Since I’m sitting, he appears taller than I initially predicted at the hospital. If anything, the lines of his face are sharper and harder, too.
Shouldn’t assholes be less handsome?
“Oh my Gosh, Reina. Are you okay?” A squeaky feminine voice snatches my attention.
She’s a petite girl with curves highlighted by her bikini top and denim shorts that reveal the crack of her ass. Her long blonde hair falls down her back, the same color as mine—only hers doesn’t appear natural.
Her upper body leans into Asher’s side as if she’s hugging him by the waist. When she notices me watching her movement, she pulls back a little with ‘oops’ written all over her face.
I narrow my eyes but quickly seal that reaction away. For some reason, I don’t think Old Reina showed emotions. If she didn’t show her makeup-free face, she likely didn’t reveal anything else.
“And you are?” I ask in a cool tone.
“Brianna. You call me Bree—we’re, like, best friends!” she squeals, clutching my hands in hers.
I wince as pain shoots up my arm and to my sore shoulders.
She pulls her hand back quickly, and the pain doubles as my arms fall to my lap. “Oops, sorry. I guess what Asher said is true—you don’t remember.” She throws him a look over her shoulder. “You didn’t tell us it was this bad.”
Did he have to? If her so-called best friend was in an accident and was admitted to the hospital for a week, shouldn’t she have visited? Or at least not partied at the pool with said friend’s freaking fiancé?
And why the hell is that fiancé still here anyway?
A tall shirtless man pushes past her and crouches in front of me. He sports a beautiful tan that complements his dark brown eyes. He narrows them on me as if trying to read something in my face. “You really remember nothing?”
“Of course she doesn’t.” Another blond man in a polo shirt, khaki shorts, and mirror sunglasses stands beside Asher. “Or else she wouldn’t look like a zombie in front of us.”
Elizabeth leans over to whisper in my ear. “The polo guy is Sebastian. The one kneeling is Owen. Both are Asher’s friends and play for the Black Devils.”
I nod, trying to associate the names to the faces. It’s not working so well in my head.
“He’s right.” Bree’s brows furrow, but I can’t help detecting how fake her concern is. “The girls and boys are right outside. You don’t want them to see you this way, Rei.”
“Maybe she does.” Asher finally speaks after watching from afar like a creep.
I don’t actually believe whatever engagement we have is genuine, so I don’t care that he didn’t come to the hospital with Alex. The least he could do, however, is not throw a pool party while I struggle to move.
I throw him a glare before I address Bree. “I just got home from the hospital. I’d rather get some sleep.”
“Yeah, right. Sure.” She pats my hand with mock sympathy. “Don’t worry about the squad. I’m holding down the fort just fine.”
Uh-huh. Why do I feel like that was supposed to be a jab toward me?
“Sure,” I say anyway.
“Wait.” The one named Owen—who’s still kneeling in front of me—cuts in. “You really remember nothing?”
I nod.
“How about the blowjob you promised me after the last game?”
My eyes snap to Asher. He remains completely still, as if his friend didn’t just suggest I give him a blowjob.
His blank face is a mystery on its own. I don’t know if it’s a lack of reaction or a completely different way of showing it.
Meeting Owen’s gaze, I say, “What do I get out of that promise?”
He pauses, taken aback. “What?”
“I wouldn’t promise to blow you if I wasn’t going to get something out of it.”
Asher smirks while Sebastian laughs.
“Well, fuck, girl.” Owen stands up. “You look like a zombie but your tongue hasn’t changed.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Should it?”
“Maybe.”
“Or maybe not,” I counter.
Asher moves in my peripheral vision and I could almost swear he was about to say something, but he stops.
Another man comes inside from where Elizabeth walked in earlier. He’s tall with mocha skin and curly black hair. He smiles, and unlike any of the four surrounding me, it reaches his eyes. I mirror it, my heart feeling light. For some reason, I feel like I know him.
Really know him.
“Jason,” Elizabeth says with glee. “You’ve come just in time.”
“How you doin’, Reina?” He stops beside me. “So sorry I couldn’t visit. Mom didn’t tell me.”
Elizabeth laughs awkwardly. “He was at camp. You know, it’s the beginning of the season, Miss Reina.”
“It’s okay.” I smile up at both of them. “I’m alive, after all.”
“And apparently with no memories.” Asher’s biting tone comes from my side.
Apparently with no memories.
What is that supposed to mean?
I ignore him and focus on Jason’s kind expression.
“Well, what are you doin’?” Elizabeth ushers him. “Help me get Miss Reina upstairs.”
He moves, but Asher steps in front of him. “I’ll do it.”
I lift a hand. “I want Jason to do it.”
Asher freezes, and although I can’t see his eyes, the tightening of his jaw is enough to relay his displeasure.
Screw him.
He obviously doesn’t care about me. He made it clear he wants to harm me. If he thinks I’ll just sit here and watch, he has another thing coming.
Owen elbows Sebastian, and the latter remains frozen in place.
Bree laughs in a long, squeaky shrill. “Let the help do it, Asher. It’s not worth your time.”
“Yes.” Elizabeth laughs, and it’s obvious she’s trying to make up for the awkward tension in the air. “Jason can do it.”
“He’s not the help,” I hiss at Bree. “When you’re at my house, you respect everyone in it.”
Silence fills the hall. Everyone watches me closely, as if I’ve grown two heads. What? Isn’t that the right thing to say?
Bree releases an awkward laugh before she whispers, “Come on, Rei. You call him the help yourself.”
I…I do?
My fingers turn clammy as my hands strangle each other. No. She’s lying. I’m not snobbish or cruel enough to call him that.
“I’m fine to do it.” Jason advances forward.
Asher blocks his way. They’re similar build-wise, but Asher is taller so he blocks Jason’s expression.
He yanks me from my chair so fast, pain explodes all over my limbs.
My arms go around his neck for balance as my body fits into his arms easily. An unwelcome shiver dances down my spine. “Ever heard of being gentle?”
“Do you deserve gentle?” His hot breath forms goosebumps on the shell of my ear as he murmurs, “Monster?”
“Put me down,” I hiss.
“Only if it’s to throw you in hell, but it’s too early for that.”
I try to escape his brutal hold. One of his arms is around my midsection like a vise, and the other squeezes the bruise on my thigh.
Oh, God. That hurts like a bitch.
“Stay. Fucking. Still.” He enunciates every word with a cold edge.
And then he ignores everyone and takes me up the stairs.
