Aaron grabs my hand when I’m getting in my car after the last lecture. “Don’t run,” he pleads, glancing over his shoulder. “Please, Layla. I won’t hurt you. I swear.”
When he meets my gaze, the thought of locking myself inside the car vanishes. He’s scared, petrified almost. His muscles disappeared over the last two months, and worry replaced the smile he wore on our date.
I grip my phone, ready to call Dante the second I’ll feel threatened. “What do you want?”
“Don’t call him,” he pleads, scanning the parking lot quickly, his hands shaking. “I won’t touch you. I swear.” He lets go of the door and crouches down, pulling his hood up. “I’m so fucking sorry, Layla… for everything. For that evening, for not warning you, for following his orders, but… I had no choice. He kidnapped my fiancée. I had to do it!”
I don’t understand much, but his behavior erases my anxiety. He’s afraid of his own shadow, and his nails are bitten so short it looks painful.
“You need to be more precise.” I place my phone on the passenger seat. “Who made you do it? What did they make you do? What fiancée?”
Aaron tilts his head, glancing over his shoulder again. “Your father. He made me…” He turns back to me but refuses to meet my gaze. “He told me to scare you. He had my fiancée, threatening to hurt her if I didn’t do what he wanted.”
My body turns cold. Time slows down for a moment. I watch Aaron with unseeing eyes; his words looped in my head. I don’t want to understand, know, or feel.
My father asked him to rape me.
Everything Frank did made sense. His moves were well planned and thought through. I understood why he told me to stay away from Dante and treated me like an enemy since I started dating him. It made sense. It had an explanation.
But not this time.
There’s no rational explanation this time, not a single reason that’d justify rape. What was Frank trying to achieve? The last few months were like puzzles turned upside down. Every day a new piece was uncovered. I knew what the final picture would look like. It was just a matter of putting the pieces together. Aaron is a piece that doesn’t fit.
“Layla, I’m sorry.” He inches closer but seeing me flinch, he jerks away. “I’ve no idea why Frank wanted me to hurt you, but please stay away from him. He’s a sick man.”
Tears sting my eyes. “Why are you telling me this now?”
He sighs, looking behind him for the nth time as if scared that Frank, or worse—Dante—will jump out of the bushes any second. “We ran when Frank let my fiancée out. We moved back to California, but I couldn’t just leave you like that. I couldn’t sleep knowing you’re oblivious. That night, God, it was the most horrible thing I ever did to a woman. I’ve been trying to talk to you all week, but you’re never alone.”
He didn’t have to risk his safety to warn me. He could have stayed in California, but he took a risk.
“Thank you,” I reply, not knowing what else to say. The irony doesn’t slip my attention. I’m thanking a guy who tried to rape me acting on my father’s orders.
I need to talk to Frankie. He’s taken it too far.
“Look out for yourself, Layla.” With that, he walks away, leaving me scared, furious, and confused.
Tears fall down my cheeks. I cry, banging my fist at the steering wheel, defeated. Frank’s vicious when he’s out to get what he wants, but I wouldn’t have thought he’d sacrifice so much. My heart cracks in half as pain soars through me, cutting deep.
I can’t believe what I was willing to do for someone who doesn’t care about me. I lived in a fantasy land, praying that Frank would love me the way a father should. I fulfilled his every order and followed him blindly because I wanted him to appreciate me. But no matter how hard I try, his walls are impenetrable. He keeps finding new ways to hurt me. I should’ve given up a long time ago, sparing myself the pain I’ve endured over the years and the pain I still face.
My phone snaps me out of my pity party. Dante’s face flashes on the screen, amplifying the turmoil of emotions inside me. Tears threaten to choke me when I wipe my face, starting the engine. I inhale deeply to get a hold of myself before answering his call.
“Where are you?”
The conversation with Aaron and my shameful sobbing took twenty minutes—five more than it usually takes me to arrive at his house after college whenever I drive myself. Five minutes and he’s already worried. My heart swells, and the cracks heal for a short time before they re-open. He loves me more than I ever thought possible.
And I don’t deserve it.
“I was about to call you,” I say, trying not to sound upset. “I need to go home to pick up some things if I’m supposed to stay with you until Christmas. Don’t sound the alarm. I’ll be back soon.”
“Come home, Star. I’ll take you shopping.” He aims at casual, but the tension in his voice ruins the effect.
“I’ve got two exams in January. I need my notes to study. I’ll be back in an hour.” It’s not a lie, but not the truth either.
He exhales loudly. “I don’t trust Frank, Layla. Frank knows Julij won’t work with him when Nikolaj dies.”
“You think he’ll hold me hostage, until you give him South in return? Should I remind you that he thought the exact same thing not so long ago about you?”
“Layla, you’re the most important thing in my life.” The power of his words could annihilate the whole city. “If Julij sees it, so does Frank. He’s losing, and he’ll stop at nothing to stay afloat.”
I turn left to avoid traffic. “Frank’s unpredictable, but not to that extent.”
That’s not part of the plan.
“Fine. I’ll meet you there.” Keys rattle in the background, cutting the time I hoped to have with Frank in half.
“You’re overreacting. I’ll be okay.”
“I’m not leaving you there alone, Layla.”
Before I could persuade him, he cut the call. Frank’s car sits outside the garage, but Jess’s pink Escalade is gone. Nerves rage in me like a hurricane as I storm inside the house, the heels of my boots clicking on the marble floor. I march straight into his office, ready to scream and call him names. Ready to pack my bags and never set foot in this house again.
Frank sits by the desk, a cigar in one hand and a half-empty glass of whiskey in the other. One look at him, and my battle-ready mind crumbles. Courage fades, leaving just fear.
“Is it true?” I ask, my throat closing in. “You told him to rape me?”
Frank looks up, eyes narrowed. He doesn’t have to answer. It’s in his face: guilty as charged.
“Why?! How could you?! What did I do wrong? I did everything you told me to!”
“Calm down,” he snaps, tearing himself out of the chair without glancing in my direction. This conversation can’t take place inside. Frank’s too afraid the house might be wired. I follow him outside and join him when he stops under an old cherry tree. ”The plan was falling apart,” he says, his voice full of something much more sinister than the remorse I hoped to hear.
