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I stall. He doesn’t deserve a minute of my time, let alone five. But, goddamn it, curiosity gets the better of me. “Five minutes.”
He nods and opens the door to his building. I follow, but not before turning around and giving James a nasty look. We ride the elevator in silence. I should have made him talk in the lobby. Going into his penthouse is just asking for trouble. He opens his door, and I walk in, hating how much I missed the unique smell of his place. The TV is on, playing a movie, and I hate that I want to know what he’s watching.
“Would you like some wine?”
“No—yes. Yes, I’ll take some.” Combining booze with my unstable emotions and an empty stomach is a bad mix, but I need the distraction. He hands me a glass, and I accept it, sitting at the island. Theo stands across from me and pours a bourbon. “Your clock is ticking. Why am I here?”
He picks up a large envelope from the island and slides it to me.
“What is this?”
“Open it.”
His face is blank. Cautiously, I open the folder and pull out the items inside. Photos. Images of— “What the hell is this?” My stomach clenches, and a wave of nausea travels up my throat. “Jesus.” My hands shake, and a single tear flows down my cheek. I drop them onto the counter. “Why are you showing me—”
“Seven years ago, my father introduced me to a man named Charles Hill.”
“Theo, I don’t care. I can’t—”
“I have four more minutes,” he states. “Charles Hill runs a small, successful development company. I’d just finished my undergrad, and my father invited me to dinner. Charles was there, and they shared their vision of a merger with me. Monroe Investment Corp and the Hill Group would grow together. The same night I met Charles Hill, I met his daughter.” A chill runs down my spine. “I was asked to take Alana out. Show her a good time. Understand, I was fresh out of college. I was wild and had a chip on my shoulder. So I took her out. We got wasted, went to a hotel, and had sex—”
I quickly stand, photos falling to the ground. “I don’t want to know or hear—”
“Three minutes,” he says. “My memories of that night are foggy, but I know I woke up alone. Alana and I saw each other a few more times throughout the summer, but it was casual. When the fall semester started, I left for Europe to complete my master’s. I never spoke to her again.”
“Am I supposed to feel sad for you? Did you. . .?” I look down at the photos. “Are those photos—”
“I need you to hear me out. Please sit down.” I don’t want to, but my legs are shaking so badly I do. “Two years later, I returned home from Europe. My father called me into his office as soon as I landed, only to ambush me with those photos.”
I squeeze my eyes closed. How could he do something so horrible? “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because they’re a lie.”
“Pictures don’t lie, Theo. She doesn’t look very willing—”
His glass bangs onto the counter. “I’m not a fucking rapist. Those images are fake. I have no idea who that girl is. And I have never touched drugs.” My brows crease as I look at the images. “I don’t know how those were created or altered, but that shit never happened. I went to a hotel with Alana and woke up there. Without her or anyone else. The problem is, Alana claims otherwise.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It was her word against mine. She told her father I was messed up and ditched her at the party. That she was never at a hotel with me.”
“What? Why would she do that?”
“Because I think that was their plan all along.” He’s losing me again. “My father showed me those images with Charles Hill sitting there. I argued my innocence. Told them to check the hotel cameras, my credit card. But it was all wiped away. There was no evidence I was ever at the hotel that night.”
“How?”
“Because they had a plan. They told me they paid off the girl I’d supposedly raped, and Alana lied and said she was with me that evening. Those images would disappear, my name wouldn’t be ruined, and I would stay out of jail. . . with conditions. If I accepted their terms, I would have to play my part and marry Alana when the time came. ”
I don’t know how to digest this. It’s crazy. How can someone create such a disgusting scenario and cover it up? How can someone force. . . I shake my head. “I don’t. . . this is—”
“Crazy? Fucked up? I know. I’ve been living this nightmare for the past five years.”
He takes a step toward me, and I tense, stopping him. My denial of his touch hurts, but he doesn’t advance. “I was born and raised to be exactly who you pinned me as, an egotistical asshole. I would run my father’s company when he stepped down and take my place in a role already mapped out for me. When the time came, I would become CEO of Monroe Investment Corp, marry Alana, and together, we’d continue to build an empire.”
Hearing him say that out loud churns my stomach. Another tear falls. Ashamed, I turn my cheek and wipe my face. “I don’t want to hear any more of this.”
“I need you to. It was either marry Alana or lose everything. I never chose this. Or her. I can barely stand looking at Alana.”
