Roses

Chapter 18

Adam

Zoey Kirby has officially fucked me over. She was supposed to be easy to hate. She was supposed to fall in line with my plan. But of course, in all my planning, I didn't once consider one thing. I may actually like her.

Fuck like. It's beyond that. Way beyond. I'm only not admitting it to myself right now because this is already too much for me. I'm finally being honest with myself: I can't go on with what I'd planned for the girl. I'm far too invested in her.

If the way I had been acting ever since she came back to Roses was not enough, tonight's events for sure sealed the deal. I don't know if it was Bruno's flirting, the guy cornering her or the goddamn phone call she got in my car. Fuck, maybe it was the look on her face when I picked her up. The pure admiration in those breathtaking eyes. But something happened over the course of the night that made me face the truth: she is mine.

Has been since the moment fate put her on my radar.

I didn't want to wake her up earlier in my car. I wanted to bring her back to my home, tuck her in my bed. But I also knew she would freak the fuck out if I did that. She has the tendency to run away when things get overwhelming. If she ever found out the depth of my feelings for her, I wonder how far she would run before realizing I would never let her escape me.

I smile into my glass of bourbon. I don't drink too much. But after getting back home, it's the first thing that came to my mind. I don't know if I'm celebrating my future with her or mourning my past with her. But I do know I'm drinking to her.

I wonder what she's doing right now. Probably sleeping. I have had the opportunity to watch her sleep twice now and both times I couldn't help but be mesmerized by how peaceful she looked. I am no fool, I know many things trouble her. But when she sleeps, she looks like she's in pure bliss. Would she be able to drift to slumber so easily if our roles were reversed?

Because I haven't had one full night's sleep without thoughts of her plaguing my mind. Conscious, unconscious, subconscious... it really doesn't matter at this point. She has penetrated all my layers.

And I don't know if I've managed to breach even her surface.

It doesn't evade me that so far in our relationship I've always been the one to take the first step. She hasn't given me anything willingly. I was hoping we could talk a little before I took her to the party. But she didn't even let me get to her door. Did she do it in an attempt to not have me in her space?

She has never once invited me inside her home.

I hate it. I hate all of it. But I know it's not justified. Over and over I have to remind myself that this obsession is a one way road--from me to her. She will never come to me through this path.

That's alright. I'll make a new path for her. But for that, I need to do a few things first.

I pick up my phone and prepare to talk to someone I didn't think I'd need to tolerate so soon. "Thorns," Bruno greets, satisfaction seeping into his tone. He knows a man like me wouldn't contact him unless I wanted something from him and that already gives him the upper hand.

"I need the details of every security guy that was present at tonight's party," I rasp. Flattery will get me nowhere with someone like him. If I want something from him, he'll take something from me. It's that simple for him. So I don't waste any time telling him what I want.

"Interesting," he drawls and I'd bet good money he's smiling right now. "What's in it for me?"

"What do you want?" I grit out the sour tasting words.

"Your girl."

"Viktor," I warn, my fingers tightening around my phone. I can't believe that I know he's only doing it to rile me up yet it's still working.

He chuckles on the other end. "Fine. You can have her. I'll think of something else."

I hate the idea of being in Viktor Bruno's debt. But he doesn't want money and I want the information now. For Zoey, I'm willing to do anything.

"When will I have what I want?"

"An hour." He disconnects the call then and my respect for the man increases just a tad. I admire efficiency.

Then I make another call. "Sir?" Kage picks up after one ring.

"There's a man called Jack Zoey's in touch with. Find out about him. Also," I pause, remembering her other phone call that I eavesdropped from my camera. "Find out about all the men from her life in New York."

"Yes, sir." I end the call and put down my phone.

Kage is the guy I'd hired when I first decided to go after Zoey. He probably thinks this is another thing to be added to her file for me. Her undoing looks meticulous as an agenda in a file. Too bad I'm only going to abandon it now.

I take another sip of my drink and close my eyes, reliving one of many memories I have of her childhood.

Police sirens blare across the neighborhood as if there is even one person who doesn't know what happened. Bob Kirby just killed his wife. Two reporters from two different news channels narrate the whole incident in front of their respective cameramen with the Kirby house in the background. Phrases like 'crime of passion' and 'domestic abuse' are used frequently.

They are right. But I hate that they are too late. This could have been prevented. Just like my mother's suicide a year ago.

It's like people know exactly what's wrong but wait for something terrible to happen to talk about it.

My thoughts and the reporters' narration stop when someone walks out with a little girl wrapped in a blanket in his arms. I peek out from the back of a minivan where I'm standing to get a better look at her face. I want to find out if she's crying. And if she is, is it just because her mother is gone or does she actually remember the part she played in it?

But I know that's probably impossible. She's only five. Her brain does not possess that kind of power. Yet.

Though what I see does make me stop and think if she does have memories of what went down a year ago. She isn't crying. She doesn't even look sad. Her face is blank and she's staring into space like she has shut off the whole damn world.

I remember the morning I found out my mother had overdosed on sleeping pills. I didn't shut off anything. I couldn't. I cried like a little bitch, balled up on the floor. Alone.

Why is she not doing the same? Does her stupid kid brain not yet comprehend what the fuck's happened?

Or has she silently accepted she has no one now?

I hate that I'm fucking sixteen and still haven't reached that phase. I hate that I still hold on to hope that my father's going to get better, which now I know for a fact is never going to happen. God, I hate everything right now.

Someone has to pay for how I'm feeling right now. My eyes make contact with the girl's. It breaks almost instantly as the man who was carrying her puts her in the back of a police car. But it was enough.

I've made my decision: she will be the one to pay. I don't care that she is just a child. She will be old enough one day. I don't care that life has been unfair to her too.

All I have is my hate.