Blackbird (A Stepbrother Romance #1)(41)

“Right. If you tried to keep everybody, they’d go under and they’d all lose their jobs.”

“I read those tweets, Alicia. “How many people’s Christmases have I ruined? How many divorces have I caused? I never even thought about it before. All I saw was numbers in a spreadsheet, charts and projects and equations. It’s like I forgot people existed.”

“How many Christmas presents did you ever get?”

I look over at her. She’s still not looking at me. “What?”

“How many?”

“It’s not like I counted them.”

“Fine. How many from your father?”

“None. We didn’t celebrate holidays at my house. Father said it was frivolous and I could buy what I wanted with my allowance. If I needed something there was no reason to wait until December twenty-fifth to buy it for me.”

“What about Victor and his mother?”

“They had huge Christmases. Father hated it. I could tell. He accepted gifts and bought things for Victor’s mother, anyway. She and Victor gave me things. He gave me jewelry and…” I feel myself blush.

Alicia’s eyebrow quirks up. “And?”

“Other things. Sexy underwear.”

“People call it ‘lingerie’, Eve.”

“Whatever,” I say, sullenly. “What am I going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“What would you do?”

“I’d hear what Victor had to say.”

“He hates me now.”

“No, he does not. You sound like a twelve year old. Didn’t you hear what I told you? That man was not looking at someone he hated. He wanted to take you with him. He wasn’t there to hurt you, Eve. He was there to rescue you, even if he doesn’t know it.”

“I don’t know how to reach him.”

Alicia sighs. “I can find out. It is my job. Where’s there a place where you could meet him?”

“Far away from here. If I do this, Father will find out.”

“Find out, and hit you again, you mean.”

I flinch.

“It’s a ways from here. It’s a drive. We should go get one of the cars.”

“No, we’ll take mine,” Alicia says.

I’m not used to being contradicted. It’s a long drive. First, we stop at the house. Alicia goes inside and comes back with a bag of my clothes, puts them in the back of her van. I listen while she talks to her husband, who is displeased that she isn’t coming home tonight, at the very least. Their conversation is so domestic. I curl up in the seat and hug myself and Alicia drives, and drives, and drives. It’s almost a three hour trip, all in silence. City gives way to suburbs, suburbs give way to open fields and the swampy hinterlands of the Delmarva peninsula. By the time we arrive I’ve been asleep for an hour and it’s almost dark. One of the advantages of my wealth is I don’t have to worry about the cost of booking a room, but in November all the fine waterfront hotels are closed. Alicia takes the company card and books two rooms, one for each of us.

I sprawl out on the bed of a Motel 8 and stare at the popcorn ceiling as if the tiny little swirls and bumps could give me some kind of answers. Alicia is in the other room, making phone calls.

Just past midnight, there’s a knock at the door. Wearily, I get up and trudge over, and pull it open. I expect Alicia.

Victor stands in the door, soaked to the bone from the driving rain that kicked up while I was lying on the bed in half-sleep. Water has glued his thick black hair to his head and drips from the tip of his nose, but he holds his head high like it’s nothing and stares at me with his clear, piercing eyes.

“Hello,” I say, softly. “Come in.”

I step back. He walks into the room and sloughs off a rain soaked jacket onto the floor, takes a towel from the bathroom and dries his face. The rain slashes the windows, drums on the heater built into the wall beside the door. I bolt the door and slide the chain lock into place and stand there, trying to make my hands stop shaking, but I can’t.

“Your assistant called me,” he says, dully. “She says you want to talk. Said to meet you here.”

“Yes. I want to talk.”

I sit down on the edge of the bed, facing him, but I can’t look at him. Just seeing him stirs up all these emotions, like a storm brewing inside me.

“What did you want to talk about?”

I swallow. “Victor.”

He’s still silent. His eyes are hard.

“Do you hate me?”

He doesn’t answer.

I pull my legs up under me and fold them, and hug myself. I still can’t look at him. “When your mother was in the hospital, she made me promise to pass a message to you, but I never did.” I’m surprised how even my voice is. “She told me to tell you she was wrong, and you were right, about everything. She told me to tell you she believed you were innocent.”

“Is that all she said?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t make her any less dead, Eve. She died while I was in prison. I wasn’t allowed to see her.”

I swallow. “She asked me something else.”

“What?”

“She asked me to give you a chance. To hear you out.”