It was a reminder to place value on the people you loved and the moments you shared over anythingyou might own. Sitting in a car with a man I barely knew, brings those words to the forefront. I’m living her lesson. I have nothing except the memories of my moments to hold onto, but the lesson leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. My moments are filled with pain. Lies. Beatings. Starvation. Punishments. Responsibilities. Being a mother to children that aren’t mine. Being hunted by men I’ve never wronged.
In the end, aside from the love I have for my siblings, I have nothing at all.
Harrison Heights overlooks Harrison City from its elevated position, nestled into the side of crescent moon hills in the north-west. Tree-lined streets and decorative black-iron streetlamps stand sentry over the wealthiest of us. Buildings are scarcely seen, preferring to be hidden behind high walls and automatic gates. Almost all of them have little, manned gatehouses and remind me of pageantry, royalty, and bright-liveried guardsmen.
We drive past vast lots of indeterminable size before we turn off for the Trevainne compound and the place that will become my new home for the foreseeable.
When Aiden mentioned the compound before, I pictured a fortified structure; no windows, one entrance and exit, a huge fifteen-foot wall with guard towers, and parapets with barbed wire. I could not have been more wrong.
Thereisa wall, knee-high, that disappears into the dark on either side of a pretty gate. Behind the wall are neatly cultivated shrubs that grow at least a story and a half high. The gate opens automatically as soon as we draw close, so Dax hardly even has toslow. The driveway cuts between two rows of cypress trees and is lit by swathes of tiny lights, strung from tree to tree. At any other time, the view would be magical, romantic even, but after everything that has happened, it seems too carefree for something dubbed ‘the compound.’
The trees are darker than the night. The lights wrap around them, illuminating soft halos of colour; hints of green behind each little burst of yellow. The dots of light could be mistaken for fireflies if they weren’t so regimented. They brighten enough of the path to see where it curves up ahead and then spears off to the left as we approach the house.
It isn’t just a house. It is a fairy tale; someone else’s dream come true. But to me, it’s a bitter reminder of who I am and where I come from. I’m uneasy and Dax notices.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Jules. It’s not what it looks like,” he warns.
“It looks like a mansion.”
“Okay, so itiswhat it looks like, but it isn’t what you think.”
“And what do you think I’m thinking?” I cross my arms over my chest and wait for his response.
“That you don’t want to be here. You think you don’t belong.”
How did he guess so accurately? Am I that easy to read? “You’re right, but I don’t belong anywhere, so don’t take it personally.”
Dax chuckles and pulls the car up alongside a wide stairway that leads to a grand, carved stone entrance. “Flexibility is a strength you have, Jules. You just haven’t tested it yet.”
And this oversized building is going to teach me that or is he hinting at something else?I eye him with his face masked in shadow. He stares into my eyes and issues a challenge. I can’t tell what it is, or what the stakes are, but he presents it all the same.
I’ve already proven I’m flexible; it’s what’s kept me alive. Like my grandmother always said, ‘be like water because you never know what kind of vessel fate will pour you into.’
And yet, something tells me Dax doesn’t want my dry, truthfulresponse. His attitude is playful, his words are loaded. Does he want to play? Tease me? Or is he trying to distract me and sweep me up; rescue me from myself and the thoughts I’ve let eat at me since leaving Carlo’s house burning in the suburbs.
And,God, I want that too.
I want to leave my guilt behind and shrug off my fear. I want to just exist in the now and make a moment worth remembering. I don’t think I’ve really had a second to just enjoy being me, and if this handsome, kind, ridiculously crazy idiot is willing to help me with that, then maybe I should just enjoy it.
Just for one precious moment.
I’ll even play by his rules. The first step is getting out of the car with my head held high and the determination to belong in his space. Is that possible? Can I fit in Dax’s life? The only way to know is to try.
“Flexibility, huh?” I mumble.
“The ability to bend and stretch, to manipulate yourself, and to succeed in any environment.” I raise a brow and my lip curls into a‘really?’smile. A slow grin spreads across Dax’s face. He licks his lips and continues, “Recognising an opportunity and working with it rather than against it.” He holds my gaze, distracting me fully from the big house and the pretty lights outside.
“Anything else?”
“Knowing when to bend, when to kneel, when to take what you want, and when to open yourself up to receive.”
Are we still talking about flexibility? The temperature in the car flares. Dax wets his lips again. Even breathing is exhilarating. My chest heaves the charged air in and out of my lungs, fuelling my excitement with each inhale. He allows his gaze to drift lower, drawn to the exaggerated movement of my chest. My breaths stumble as I try to regulate them. My chest flutters and I uncross my arms and drop them onto my lap to release the pressure. The movement catches Dax’s attention as he languidly moves his gaze across my chest and down to my hands pressed in prayer betweenmy clenched thighs. He tilts his head to the side, running his top teeth over his lower lip.
I carry twin urges. I want to ask what he’s thinking and voice what I’m sure we are both feeling, but I’m also afraid of dispelling the energy we weave between us.
Dax remains glued to the path my fingers trace across my jeans. Using my thumbs, I stroke inward, along the valley where my legs press together, and run my thumbs up until they can go no further. I can’t say whether it’s my touch, or the way Dax’s eyes follow the stroke, but my body thrums. The reaction is visceral. Can Dax see it?
He sucks in a leisurely breath. I hold mine.
