Page 7 of Corrupted Union

Caitlin chuckled. “I’ll be in shortly.”

I squeezed her arm. “No rush.” If I were her, I wouldn’t want to hurry back to Oran’s side either. I had a really fuckin’ bad feeling things with him were going to get ugly … sooner rather than later.

“I didn’t realizeyou’d come up here yesterday. We could have made the trip together.” I tried not to sound annoyed as I followed Stetson up the stairs of his father’s ten-thousand-square-foot brownstone. The place wasn’t five minutes from where my parents lived, which meant I’d made the trek two days in a row from the West Village to the Upper East Side. It was only a half hour, but still. The travel time had eaten up a chunk of my weekend.

“It was a last-minute thing. Dad got back from a trip and asked if I’d stop by for dinner. It was just easier to stay here.” He turned around at the top of the stairs and pulled me into a hug. “I’m glad you came, though. Our schedules haven’t meshed up well lately.”

He was right. Though, to be honest, neither of us had made much of an effort to align our busy schedules. We’d known each other so long that it made our relationship different from other people’s. Even though we’d only started officially dating a year ago, we weren’t ridiculously obsessed with spending every minute together. I’d known Stetson since middle school. Our fathers were longtime friends, so we saw each other regularly growing up. Dating had felt like the natural progression of our relationship, and our fathers hadn’t exactly been shy in their hopes that we’d get together. When I told Dad that Stetson had asked me out, his smile could have turned night to day.

“I had hoped to do some studying today, but I figure I can squeeze in a few hours in the morning before class.” I gave a hint of coyness to my smile, peering up at him through my lashes.

Stetson was cute in a boy-next-door sort of way. His light-brown hair was thick with short curls, and his golden-brown eyes lit with a mischievous glint I found endearing. Tall and lean, he was surprisingly athletic for his height. After being on his varsity team all four years of high school, he now played field hockey for a club team. More than anything, though, Stetson was comfortable. Easy. We both knew what to expect from one another and seemed to like it that way.

“You always ace your classes,” he teased. “One night off won’t hurt anything.” He gave one last squeeze, then released me to walk down the hallway. “Come on, Duke is about to play. Preseason starts tonight,” he called back to me.

I stood for a second and glanced down at the outfit I’d spent too much time picking out. A forest-green cashmere sweater that accented my hazel eyes, cut short to hint at an exposed midriff above skinny jeans that were damn near painted on. Stetson hadn’t even noticed.

Sex wasn’t exactly the cornerstone of our relationship, but it had been a week, and I’d at least hoped to catch his eye. After my run-in with Keir the night before, I’d been so strangely turned on that I couldn’t sleep until I’d relieved the aching need pulsing between my thighs.

Adrenaline did funny things to the body, or so I told myself. It was the only logical explanation.

I shook myself out of the memory and followed Stetson to the swanky TV room. The three-story home, plus the basement, was opulent in every way. My parents’ house was just as old as this one, but they’d updated to a modern design that was light, open, and inviting. Stetson’s father insisted on keeping the austere feel of the traditional decor in his home. Black-and-white checkerboard marble floors ran throughout the main level with wainscoting, dark paneled wood, or richly colored fabric lining the walls. The crown molding was ornate, the fixtures an ostentatious gold, and the furnishings could have come straight from a palace. Not exactly my idea of homey.

At least the second floor was a bit more updated since that was Stetson’s domain. He had the entire west end of the second floor to himself, which was why he frequently came home. His place wasn’t bad, but he definitely preferred the lush Upper East Side to campus.

I was surprised to see several soda cans on the coffee table and the normally neatly folded blanket wadded into a ball instead. The house was always immaculate, which meant that even a few out-of-place items seemed odd.

Stetson saw me eyeing the uncharacteristic disorder. “Dad told Hannah not to mess with my wing. Something about her getting older and me being too spoiled.”

“You do something to piss him off?” I teased.

“Who knows with that man,” he grumbled playfully, settling into the large gray sectional.

We watched the start of preseason basketball for a half hour before I had to get up and relieve my boredom with a trip to the bathroom.

“While you’re up, can you grab me a beer?” Stetson asked, eyes trained on the TV.

A frown tugged my mouth. “Yeah, sure.”

This was not how I’d envisioned spending my evening. At least dinner would be soon, and then we could spend a little time together.

“Hold up,” Stetson called. “I forgot that the bathroom in here is having issues. Use mine or the one off the guest room.”

I rerouted to the hallway, rolling my eyes as Stetson whooped at the television. The guest room was closest, so I let myself inside. The drawn drapes and the navy-themed decor made the room feel eerily solemn, like one of those old Victorian-era movies when a room was boarded up after its occupant had died of some contagious disease. I couldn’t imagine why his father didn’t update things, except that the place sort of suited his personality. I’d never felt comfortable around Lawrence Wellington. I didn’t know what it was, but my skin itched with the need to escape when he was nearby.

That was how I should have felt when Keir held that knife to my throat.

Your intuition told you he wouldn’t hurt you, and he didn’t. That’s not so strange.

I rolled my eyes.Right. And you’re not remotely biased.

Crossing the room to the en suite bathroom, I turned on the light and paused in front of the gilded mirror for half a second—just the briefest glance. That was all I ever allowed. Only long enough to check that my heavy cat-eye liner was on point, black mascara fully coated my blond lashes, and a flawless layer of foundation made every last freckle invisible. I performed the spot-check in a blink but otherwise avoided mirrors whenever I encountered them. I didn’t like to see what stared back at me.Whostared back at me.

While I couldn’t totally escape the truth, I could avoid summoning the resulting dark emotions by removing mirrors from the equation. I wasn’t a fan of emotions in general. I’d always been able to keep mine in check, which was the reason my response to Keir had been so unsettling. What kind of person was aroused by a man holding a knife to their throat? It was a question I didn’t want to answer.

I shook my head to clear the intrusive thoughts and finished doing my business. After washing my hands, I reached for the door when an odd sound caught my ear. Was that … crying?

I looked up and studied the antique vent cover on the ceiling as another feminine wail drifted down, no mistaking it. No animal or inanimate object made sounds so saturated with emotion. The soul-crushing despair reached inside my chest and clutched my heart with rabid desperation until I could hardly breathe.

---