Wishing Well(47)

Eyes searching her face, his expression was blank, unreadable. “How do you know?”

Daring to lock eyes with Vincent, Meadow curled her fingers into her palm, her nails cutting half-moon circles into the skin, just barely drawing blood. She needed the physical pain to divest herself of the emotions that gripped her in a sadistic hold. How can emotions make you hurt everywhere? How can they choke the life out of you from inside? They were nothing but chemicals being dumped in your veins, but still they froze you faster than even the depraved stare of a man who knew he held you in place. Penny had blamed herself at times for the torment she’d endured, and like Penny, Meadow blamed herself now.

“She never wrote it in the diary. I have to assume it was because she didn’t know.” Bitter laughter fell from her lips. “Maybe if she had, she would have left that damn hotel. Would have realized that she’d become the sole focus of a monster you so expertly created.”

It was Vincent’s turn to flinch. Maurice was the only weakness in his armor, the only regret he carried. Meadow could see, plain as day, how true Vincent’s love was for his brother. And now that the weak spot had been exposed, Meadow reached in with greedy fingers to rip out the heart of a bastard who’d enjoyed destroying the lives of others.

Canting her head, much like Vincent would do when he knew he had you cornered, Meadow grinned. “What’s wrong, Vincent? Does it hurt to know what you did to Maurice? How you tortured him and made him worse by keeping him separate from the world? By keeping him caged?” Vincent simply smiled back, but Meadow knew she’d sunk the blade deep, and she wanted to twist it around and around and around until this son of a bitch was screaming.

“You created a monster. You took a person who could have succeeded despite his problems, and you only managed to make them worse.” Tsking, Meadow admired the razored edge to Vincent’s grin. For fucking once she had him cornered.

But it wouldn’t be the last time, and for that reason alone she would continue this fight. For Penny. For her twin sister. For every person Vincent had hurt and destroyed.

“We’re not here to talk about Maurice,” Vincent answered, his voice calm, assured, so practiced that Meadow knew he was fighting to keep it controlled. There was no humor touching his tone, no satisfaction now that it was his destruction of Maurice that came into focus.

After Penny’s death, and after receiving the diary that had been left in Vincent’s wake, Meadow had locked on to the task of finding the mysterious brother kept in a basement cage.

Refusing to drop the subject, Meadow commented, “Actually I think we are here to talk about Maurice. He was another one of your victims. You may not have been the one to kill him, but you were certainly the cause.” Pausing, she enjoyed seeing pain flash behind his green eyes. “And let’s not forget what you did to Penny. Tossing her to him like a scrap of meat.” Leaning forward, she lowered her voice, “Did you watch?”

Taking the bait, Vincent leaned forward as well, his lips only inches from her own. She would have felt frightened if not for his chains.

His voice was equally as soft. “You’re skipping ahead again. And just as we were getting to the true tests of Penelope’s strength.”

Rolling her eyes, Meadow sat back in her chair. Vincent would give her nothing, his mask back in place, his eagerness to gloat apparent. She wouldn’t give him that chance. Sure, he would enjoy knowing exactly how Penny had felt during the next week of their games, but she wouldn’t let him brag. And when she was done filling him in on this small portion of the story, this heart-wrenching perspective, she would enjoy seeing his smile falter when she drove the knife into his chest deeper with things she knew but he didn’t.

Vincent may have had his secrets, but so did Penny. So did Meadow.

“I know this is the point in the story where you finally have sex with Penny. And I know you’ve been chomping at the bit to tell me all the sordid details of what you did to her in the privacy of your suite. How she liked it. How she asked for more. How you eventually tossed her away once you’d grown tired of your games, only to drag her back for more of your intimate training . You’ve been hinting to it during this entire interview.”

Relaxing against the back of his seat, Vincent asked, “And your point is?”

“I won’t let you brag to me, Vincent. And while I know hearing about how you made Penny feel during the nights and days you trained her, used her, fucked her and, well, showed her just how well you could torment her, I’m going to take control at this point in the story to deliver Penny’s perspective. It might be eye opening.”

Laughter, dark and sultry, rolled over his lips. “Chapeau , Meadow. It’s about time you wrestle me under control. I was beginning to think you are as weak as Penelope.”

Stretching his legs out beneath the table, he rested the tip of his boot against Meadow’s shoe, except this time, Meadow refused to yank her foot away, refused to give him the slightest indication that he affected her. Vincent smiled knowingly, his shackles rattled.

“Let’s begin, shall we? Or rather, I should say it’s time for you to begin. Please, Meadow, school me on all the horrible details that will make me rethink my evil ways. I’m quite curious as to what direction this is going.”

“You know what they say about curiosity,” Meadow quipped.

“Ah,” he answered, his voice slick, “but then Penelope also found that out, didn’t she?”