Page 29 of Always
There are times when I want to ask Maverick if he feels guilty, but then I see the way he looks at Raven, that I know he doesn’t. It was a bad thing we had to do to get to the good part. And even then… it didn’t feel so‘bad.’ It felt right. The only thing that felt wrong was Sofia getting away. And now we have her.
And my baby has a look on her face that tells me some kind of justice will be served.
Chapter Thirteen
Raven.
This isnotwhat I was expecting for my last surprise.
Albeit it is a nice one. I won’t lie and say I haven't thought about what I would say or do to my mother if I ever saw her again. I just know that there’s a slow starting symphony beginning to form in the back of my mind. Slow and low… but not enough to warrant murder. Not enough for me to switch off my emotions. I need them right now. Because I need the truth. I need the final answers.
I watch Sofia through the two-way mirror. Even though she looks exhausted and understandably furious, she is still flawless. I even feel a little insecure that the only makeup I’m wearing is my smudged eyeliner from getting fucked to death on the jet and I’m still wearing my sweatpants and Jonas’ hoodie.
If only they’d told me, I’d have… I don’t know, gotten some kind of power suit on. One that said, ‘I’m going to totally and completely destroy you.’ Not my leggings and Jonas’ sweatshirt with a… what kind of stain is that? God, please don’t let it be cum.
I go through the documents in the manilla folder in my hands, then set it to the side.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Once Aleksi is done setting everything up, I had the guards move Sofia to one of the old interrogation rooms where a camera is set up, handcuffed to the table, legs cuffed to the chair. I haven’t shown my face to her yet and with the way the hidden camera is set up, you won’t be able to see my face, either. Aleksi also said he can modify the wavelengths in my voice so when I speak, it won’t sound like me. He also knows to block out anything that could incriminate me or my guys.
Some would call it extortion.
I call it… security.
A truth for a truth.
Each of my men watch me as I grab a plate full of the food I ordered. The guards told me she hasn’t eaten in days. She flings everything back at them. It’s all foods she prohibited me to eat as a young girl entering adolescence. Pizza, desserts, a burger, fries, a burrito, and chocolate churros. All the foods I had to hide and end up gorging myself on, spiraling into a weird vicious cycle of fasting, binging and purging because of her.
One of the guards opens the door for me and as soon as her emerald eyes recognize me, she rolls them and slumps in the rickety chair. I set the plate down in front of her and smile while taking my seat. “Hungry?” I rasp in Spanish.
She doesn’t look surprised that I’m talking but she eyes the food, swallows what I’m sure is a pool of saliva, and blinks back at me. “I haven’t had carbohydrates in twenty-fouryears. Do you know how hard it is to stay likethisin a vain world full of cameras?”
I shake my head.
“Every fucking day I have to make sure I look cover-worthy so people will buy my clothes. Every day. I starve myself and workout rigorously so fat bitches all over the world believe if they purchase from my line they too, could look like me.” She scoffs bitterly. “And now we have to use more fabric to covertheir disgusting, flabby bodies, and they get outraged when it doesn't cost the same as a size two. And don’t talk to me about the fucking BBLs and the fake tits and the tummy tucks. They’re allplastic.Allof them. If only they would stop shoveling this… chingadera-” she swings her arm and the plate offucking shitcrashes into a wall “-into their fat faces and go to a fucking gym, they wouldn’t be going into debt trying to look like their favorite celebrities.”
I suck in my cheeks, hollowing them but I don’t talk. Not yet.
Those eyes of her blaze a green I’ve never seen before. “Likeyou. I always had to make sure you weren’t shoveling food into your mouth and yet- there you were-fat. All the time you were fat. I put you in ballet, you cried becauseyour poor little toes hurt.”She mocks me. “I put you in gymnastics and you didn’t like how the leotard felt. I put you in dance, and you complained you didn’t like the music.”
I blink at her.
“I don’t know what Jonas sees in you. Fat. Pathetic. Not even your mouth works. But I suppose it’s good for other things, isn’t it? I bet helovesthat he doesn’t have to hear you talk and you let him fuck you whenever because all you have to offer is the fat twat between your fat thighs. But he’ll grow tired of that soon. He’ll leave you behind as soon as he realizes you’re nothing more than a blob of a body. Or he’ll use you to have his children, raise powerful little Syndicate princes and keep a mistress on the side.
“Shewill be the woman he truly wants. I bet he has one already. Tell me, does he lie pretty while his cock is inside of you?” She grunts like she’s getting fucked then mocks Jonas. “I love you, baby. Have my children, baby.” She cackles wickedly. “Vapid girl. At least with the Prescott’s I would have gotten paid for each heir you produced.”
I tilt my head to the side, letting the words in our native tongue settle over them before I open my mouth. “That’s why we’re here now, isn’t it? My womb.”
She scoffs. “I never knew what they saw in you. Why they wanted to sign away so many millions of dollars foryou. I told them you would make the worst wife. I told them you wouldn’t be a good mother.”
I can feel the bitterness of my words on the tip of my tongue. “And you were?”
She slams her fists down on the table, the handcuffs rattling. “I gave up acting for you! I pushed you out and you ruined my body! My entire career down in flames because your father wanted me to keep you! Now look where he is! Rotting in the ground!” She lets out a harsh cry, real tears escape her and she tries to get to me but she can’t. “And now my Johnny… my Axel… I know you have something to do with it!” She spits at me and it lands on the table between us. “Rotten inside like your father!”
Icouldtake this time to remind her she wasn’t there when I needed her. That she was as absent as the mansion was vacant. I could also remind her that her ‘acting career’ is how she met John Weston Monroe and left my father. But I don’t have time for that. “You know, Stephen Prescott kidnapped and drugged me.”
