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I’m almost tempted to beg him to stay just as the two leave. I’d rather endure the embarrassment of them hearing us than be left alone with him.
“Are you coming or not?” Aaron Sr. looks at me with a challenge in his eyes.
This is the only yacht docked at the pier, there are no other boats in sight. Given the season, they’re probably all out on dream holidays. It is a one-hundred-thirty-foot white yacht with wood-colored inlays, ultramodern and in stark contrast with his office, I notice, stepping onto the deck with its dark wooden planks and black lacquered accents.
He joins me on the uncovered deck where a row of white leather sofas overlook the stern-facing water that reflects the harbor lights. It is silent, apart from the tiny ripples of water lapping between the beams of the pier. Too quiet for a city like Los Angeles, and I realize that this place is exclusive, secluded, and away from prying eyes that want a peek into the everyday lives of famous people. The grip that tightens my stomach clinches even harder when he sits on the couch and tells me to stand before him. I glance over my shoulder, looking for an escape, but I find only a dark glass wall separating me from the luxury inside this boat.
“Dance,” he orders me, and I look at him again.
His gray eyes, like Evan’s, scrutinize me. The similarity ends in color, because these are two pieces of ice without a soul. I don’t dwell on their physical resemblance. I don’t want to associate Evan with his father for even a moment, ruining my perfect image of him.
“There is no music.” My voice is still, unlike the shaking I feel inside.
He leans against the back of the sofa, arms outstretched on the leather fabric and looking like a predator. “Shut up and dance.” His order is a lash, straightening my spine.
I close my eyes and swallow the bile. I begin to move sinuously, imagining a rhythm, picturing someone else’s eyes on me. Two gray eyes very similar to those scrutinizing me right now but permeated with sweetness and a sense of honor. Evan’s face appears in my mind. His lips arching in a gentle smile, unlike his father’s grin. I am doing this for him, to free him from this family that doesn’t deserve him.
When I feel Aaron’s hands on me, I stiffen. It’s not the delicate touch I imagine of his son.
“Keep dancing,” he orders in my ear as his hands apply pressure to my hips.
Evan. I’m doing it for him. I would never have allowed this disgusting pig to lean on my back, his breath on my neck, his lips touching my skin, making me shudder with disgust and terror. I’m doing it for the Jailbirds, to free them from another disgusting man like Anthony. I’m doing it for Lilly, the Red Velvet Curtains, to give them the career they deserve, and for my mother, who keeps breaking her back with two jobs to pay that mortgage. I need motivation to convince myself that his hands on me aren’t unbearable, that his breath on my neck isn’t revolting, and that his lips on my skin won’t leave marks I’ll never be able to remove.
One hand grabs the shoulder strap of my dress and tears it off, trying unsuccessfully to lower the light fabric that covers my breasts. I feel the tears threatening to come out until a voice I recognize makes my eyes widen in shock.
“Take your hands off her,” Evan snarls with a fury I’ve never seen in him. His eyes are fiery, his nostrils dilated, his lips tightened in a thin and taut line. A growl tears from his chest before he hurls himself at his father.
In a split second that feels like forever, Aaron Sr. ends up on the ground with his son straddling his chest, punching him in the face. He tries to defend himself, to raise his arms, but Evan’s anger is uncontainable.
The sound of bone against bone, breaking, the blood covering Aaron Sr.’s face makes my heart pump wildly in my chest, panic overturning my stomach.
“Evan, stop.” My voice comes out in a whisper, but even if I screamed, he couldn’t hear me.
Punch after punch, his anger pours out on the face of the man who no longer has the strength to raise his arms.
“You’ll kill him, Evan. Stop!” I scream, but he doesn’t hear me.
Two strong hands grab me by the shoulders and move me to the side. Aaron’s imposing figure pounces on his brother. He tries to grab Evan’s arm, but his fury is so blind he accidentally elbows Aaron in the eye. Aaron loses his balance for a split second then pounces again and finally manages to grab Evan and drag him away, forcing him to the ground on his back and holding him still with his entire body weight.
A guttural growl escapes Evan’s lips as he tries to wriggle out, but Aaron doesn’t give up. “If you kill him, you’ll end up in jail and you don’t deserve that!” Aaron growls back.
I look at his father, unconscious, his face unrecognizable. The two guards stationed here earlier run onto the deck and kneel next to the man. One of them, the one who looked at me with pity, glances at Aaron and nods his head toward the pier. “Take him away before we call the police.”
It’s not a threat, I realize. It’s a way to give Aaron time to save Evan from a lawsuit. The two brothers stand up, don’t even look at me, and get off the boat. I struggle to keep up with them. Evan’s hands are swollen and full of blood.
“Wait. Evan, wait, please.”
He stops, turns, and the anger I see in his eyes freezes me instantly. Aaron’s hand on his chest holds him still. He’s in the same clothes he wore to the restaurant but no tie, his hair disheveled, his shirt torn. He is so out of his mind he is not even recognizable.
“Wait for what? For you to finish fucking him? Do you always solve everything by opening your legs? Don’t you have the slightest respect for yourself?” he shouts furiously.
The words hurt like a stab wound, but the anger that fills my chest overtakes it. “I did it for you, so you’d stop throwing up around Manhattan on the verge of a nervous breakdown. To give you what’s yours. To give my friends a career. If I have to open my legs for them to be happy, then that’s what I’ll do!” I shout even louder.
He tries to reach me, but Aaron holds him back, giving me a stern look as well.
“You had no right to do this. You don’t have…” The words get stuck in Evan’s throat as his hand reaches his chest and a grimace of pain twists his face. His fingers grip his shirt as though trying to hold together the pieces of his heart.
Aaron turns to him and, in a gesture of pure panic, holds onto him while Evan doubles over and collapses to the ground holding his chest.
