Stroke of Midnight Page 17

  I’m nervous about tonight, but I’m also excited. I want to prove to Winston I can stand by his side as someone he can be proud of.

  I take a break even though it’s now almost four. It shouldn’t take long to put on my makeup and dress, but I can’t dawdle too much. Sitting on the bed, I dig out my phone and text Winston.

  Me: Are you having fun?

  Winston: Endless amounts.

  Me: You just miss me.

  Winston: Don’t flatter yourself.

  Me: Liar. The stylist had to leave.

  Winston: Should I send another?

  Me: I’m not a complete idiot. I can do my own hair and makeup.

  Winston: Send me a picture.

  Me: I’ll trade you one.

  He sends me a selfie of him scowling. Tons of photographers are milling about behind him in a luscious courtyard. It makes me laugh because he seems miserable. In return, I send him a smiling selfie of myself.

  Me: I still have to throw on some makeup and my dress. The limo will be here at five.

  Winston: I can’t wait to see your face all made up knowing I get to make you cry it off later when you’re choking on my dick.

  I send him some emojis sticking their tongue out.

  Me: I’ll send you a picture when I’m done. I expect endless amounts of praise.

  Winston: You’re the only girl I know who shamelessly begs for compliments. They don’t count when you force them out of people.

  Laughing, I toss the phone on my bed and head back into the bathroom to do my makeup. I’ve nearly got it done when Manda charges into the bedroom.

  “Are you almost done, Ash? For crying out loud, the limo will be here in fifteen minutes!”

  I climb off the bathroom sink and admire my face for a moment. Definitely better than any stylist could do. I spritz on some perfume and then walk into my bedroom to find Manda scowling. She hastily unzips my garment bag and pulls it away to reveal my beautiful dress.

  “This dress is an embarrassment,” Manda snipes. “You do realize there will be women showing off their breasts and thighs and arms? You’ll be dressed like a nun.”

  “And you do realize Winston chose that dress for me? He likes it, and he likes me.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “For the life of me and your father, we can’t seem to understand why. Your father thinks it’s the sex. You’re young and he’s older. I tried to tell him that Mr. Constantine seems to value you for your brain and skills, but your father won’t hear of it. And honestly, I don’t believe Mr. Constantine. Your father is horrified at the prospect Mr. Constantine will end things and you’ll come unglued with your teenage emotions, clinging to him in a way that’ll get you a restraining order.” She yanks the dress off the hanger and starts for me. “You cannot do anything to jeopardize this family’s social standing with the Constantines. Mr. Constantine has given me an in with his mother since her plastic surgeon is retiring soon. It’s a great thing for our family. If he truly does fall for you, a marriage to him will only complete things.”

  “I can dress myself,” I grumble. I don’t have much to say about the rest of her bitchy monologue. She’s only been somewhat nice to me lately because she wants in good with Winston’s family. It saddens me to think Dad thinks Winston is just using me for sex.

  But he is, isn’t he?

  I push those thoughts away. Winston and I have something budding. Something I desperately want to have. We may have found ourselves in this thing through money and exchange of power, but it’s already evolving, especially after last night.

  With an annoyed huff, I yank off my dress and toss it on the bed. Spinning around, I hold out my hand for her to give me the evening gown. Her critical gaze sweeps down over my undergarments, no doubt judging the way I can’t fill out a bra the way her designer tits can. When she gasps, I roll my eyes. I’m sure she’ll say I need liposuction or some other equally demeaning thing.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  I look down and read the words written on my stomach. Oh crap. Embarrassment licks over my flesh like fire.

  “It’s just a game we played,” I blurt out.

  “Your games are going to destroy our family,” she snarls. “I’m disgusted, Ash. Well and truly disgusted.”

  “Winston’s not, and that’s all you seem to care about,” I snap back. “I can dress myself.”

  She storms out of my room, once again slamming the door. I calm my shaking hand and then pull on my dress and accessories. It takes some acrobatics, but I manage to get my dress zipped up. Once I decide I’ll be Winston’s worthy date, I grab my camera and snap a few pictures to send to him. He doesn’t reply, which means he’s busy with the photoshoot.

  “You pissed Mom off,” a dark voice rumbles.

  Whirling around, I glare as Scout enters the room followed by his matching monster clones. They’re all dressed in tuxedos, filling out the material like grown men. In another world, a girl would grow weak in the knees at seeing them like this—handsome and dressed to the nines. My knees are weak for a whole other reason.

  Fear.

  “Get out of my room,” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest. “Now.”

  Sully walks over to my jewelry box and runs his finger along the top. “Nah, we’re here to babysit you per Mom.”

  “She was so mad, she made Baron drive her to the party,” Sparrow reveals as he closes the door behind him. “That means you’re stuck riding in the limo with us.”

  “I’ll take an Uber before I ride with you morons,” I hiss. “Get the fuck out of my room.”

  “And let you get away with it?” Scout asks, his voice cold.

  “With what?” I demand.

  “Screwing us out of Harvard.” Scout cracks his neck. “When Mom finds out what you made your boyfriend do, she’s going to destroy you.”

  My blood runs cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  What did Winston do?

  “Holy shit,” Sully says, peeking inside the jewelry box and ending all talk of Harvard. “There’s a lot of cash in here.”

  “Don’t touch it,” I bark out.

  He pockets the money and laughs. “Already did. Finders keepers.”

  Scout approaches me, and I take several steps back. He picks up my phone, holding it out to me. “Unlock it.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t test me, sis,” Scout growls, his eyes nearly black with evil intent. “Unlock the fucking phone.”

  “Why?” I screech, my voice quivering.

  “Mom says you’re a paid whore,” Sparrow says, digging through my bag and retrieving my laptop. “Are you?”

  “Don’t touch my stuff!” I start for Sparrow to take my laptop, but Scout grabs my wrist in his brutal grip.

  “Let him do his big brother job and check up on you.” Scout gives me a shove toward Sully who wraps his arms around my body, trapping my arms.

  “Let me go!” I kick my legs out to no avail.

  “What’s your password?” Sparrow asks.

  “Fuck you.”

  Scout kneels in front of me and grabs my hand. I cry out when he presses my finger to my phone. It unlocks. Just. Like. That.

  “Don’t,” I plead.

  Scout rises as he begins perusing through my phone. “Oh, sis, you really fucked up.”

  Tears well, but I fight them back. “It’s none of your business.”

  “Our sister being a fucking prostitute is every bit our business,” Scout snarls. “You’re a sick bitch. Holy shit.”

  I do start to cry when I hear my moans. Winston’s cruel words. The whip of the belt. My screams. Sully is hard, his dick pressing into my ass and Sparrow has joined Scout to watch the video.

  “He pays you to have sex with him,” Scout says, his voice deceptively calm. “Tell Sparrow your password so he can look at your account.”

  “What are you going to do?” I ask through my tears.

  “See just how much our sister’s cunt is worth.”r />
  “Then what?” I demand.

  “Depends on you.” Scout’s eyes darken with lust. “My silence can be . . . negotiated.”

  Choking on a sob, I blurt out my password. Sparrow sits down on the bed and begins tapping away. His eyes bug out of his head.

  “She’s got over a hundred grand.” Sparrow whistles. “A high-paid whore.”

  “We’re taking it,” Scout growls. “Every dime. You owe us, especially after ruining our chance at Harvard.”

  “Then take it,” I whisper. “Just . . . don’t say anything to anyone. Please.”

  Scout is quiet as he starts mashing buttons. All three of the guys’ phones buzz.

  “Over thirty grand each,” he says with a wicked smile. “Poor Ash is broke now. She’ll have to spread her legs some more to make that up.”

  “Just leave,” I beg. “The limo is here. Please.”

  “You’re not coming with us?” Scout asks, his brow arched high.

  “I’ll find my own ride.”

  “With no money and no friends and your John already at the party, how do you plan on doing that?” he taunts. “Are you going to walk?”

  “I’ll figure it out,” I snap.

  “Sparrow, make the call. Sully and I will deal with her.”

  I don’t know what that means, but I don’t want any part of it. I start to scream and kick.

  “Winston, I’m sorry, lover but I won’t be able to make it to the party,” Scout says as he types on my phone. “While it was lovely using you for your money, I won’t need it anymore. My brothers will look after me now.”

  “He’ll know that’s not me,” I spit out.

  He shrugs. “Doesn’t change the fact you’re not going to the party.”

  My eyes widen in fear as he approaches. He grabs a handful of the hair I spent so much time on, and he yanks me forward. His lips crash to mine in a brutal, painful kiss that makes my lip bleed. He pulls away and then jerks me out of Sully’s grip, pushing me to the floor.

  “Grab those scissors,” Scout barks out.

  I try to scramble to the bathroom on my knees, but Scout steps on my back making me scream at his forcefulness. I shriek when one of them starts cutting my dress.

  “If you’re a whore, you have to dress like one,” Scout explains as though he really is a big brother chiding his younger sister.

  I sob and kick out but they’re too strong. I’m outnumbered by the Terror Triplets. My legs grow cold as the material is crudely cut away. They roll me onto my back and continue destroying my dress. All the floor-length material is gone having been cut high up my thighs. Sully straddles my stomach and then brings the scissors to my throat.

  All my thrashing stops as he scrapes the blade along my neck. He cuts the fabric in a V from the neckline to between my breasts, nearly exposing me. Sparrow returns and grabs my hands, pulling them above my head while Sully holds my legs down. I’ve lost all fight and cry deep gut-wrenching sobs.

  Scout’s face is screwed into a monstrous one as he cuts through the material on my stomach. “Mom was right,” he murmurs as he cuts out a square to show off the Sharpie words on my stomach.

  He climbs off and towers over me. “Let her go.”

  As soon as they release me, I curl in on myself, desperate to hide from them. Scout grabs a handful of my hair, dragging me to my feet. He forcefully walks me into the bathroom and yanks open the shower door. I panic, fearing we’ll have a repeat of last time. With a hard shove, he sends me into the shower floor. My knees skid across the tile, scraping them open.

  “Dirty whores need baths. Stay right there and don’t fucking move.” He turns on the icy cold shower.

  With water raining down over the back of my head, I stare at the tiles that are smeared with blood. My entire body trembles, and I remain still, listening for sounds of them leaving. I’m not sure how long I wait, shivering with my teeth chattering, but I eventually hear a knock.

  “Help,” I croak out.

  The shower door opens, and the water shuts off.

  “Oh, you poor, poor girl,” a deep, masculine voice croons. “Let me grab you a towel.”

  A warm towel wraps around me and someone picks me up. I’m carried into my bedroom and the person lays me down. He sits beside me, stroking my wet hair from my face.

  Dark eyes. Dark hair. Dark intentions.

  I know him.

  The guy from the club.

  Leo Morelli.

  “I had to see you again,” Leo says, running his thumb over my numb bottom lip. “What would possess Winston Constantine to sell a thirty-eight point five million dollar building that he loves very, very much to me? A Morelli?” He chuckles. “I didn’t even know what I had in my hands that night at the club. I should’ve dragged you out of there, kept you locked up tight.”

  I close my eyes, tears leaking out, and say the one thing I want but won’t get. “C-Can y-you c-call W-Winston?”

  “Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

  My eyes are bloodshot and burning but I obey him. His smile is handsome. Terrifying, but handsome. He pets my hair like I’m an injured kitten. Violent intent gleams in his dark orbs.

  “W-Why are you here?” I whisper.

  “I’m your new best friend.” He chuckles. “Your new buddy, Leo.”

  “I won’t sleep with you,” I hiss, glowering at him.

  He smirks. “Trust me. I don’t want to sleep with Constantine leftovers. I do, however, want to give you something.”

  “What?”

  “Silence.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Because you’re but a scared little girl,” Leo explains. “Which is why you need your brothers to keep quiet about what they found on your phone.” He wiggles said phone and pushes it into his shirt pocket. “My silence can be bought.”

  “Winston has enough money,” I throw back. “Name your price.”

  “We have a negotiator on our hands,” he drawls out, amused by my tone. “Some things are priceless.” He tugs at a wet strand of my hair. “I don’t want Winston’s money, I want his mind. And you, girl, are going to get inside it. I want answers. When I come to you with questions, I’ll expect you to get me those answers.”

  Divulging Winston’s secrets, personal life, and business dealings to a Morelli is the ultimate betrayal. One I’d never willingly follow through on.

  “And if I don’t,” I challenge, hugging the towel around me.

  “I’ll do more than embarrass you, my sweet thing.” His grin is sinister. “I’ll mortify Winston Constantine and his entire family name.”

  He would die.

  His mother would too.

  And poor Perry.

  There’s enough stuff on my phone to cause the biggest scandal New York City has ever seen. I’m not even sure half of what we’ve done is even legal.

  Crap.

  I have to be smart about this. I can’t just challenge one of this city’s biggest monsters without repercussions to myself and everyone around me.

  I’ll need to think like a Constantine.

  Leo Morelli may think I’m a weak, bullied little girl who’ll obey his harsh commands, but he’s wrong. I’m not as weak as I may seem, especially in my destroyed form at the moment.

  “I have one condition,” I murmur.

  “Only one?”

  “Let me make a phone call. Now.”

  His brow arches. “You think your Prince Charming is going to save you if you can just reach him?”

  He’s a villain, not a prince.

  But I’m not calling him. I refuse to set Winston off on his birthday in front of all those people and his family just so he can fall right into the Morelli trap.

  No, I have other plans.

  “Those are my terms.”

  “If you spill this conversation to him,” he growls as he stands and begins pacing my room, “I will send those videos to every news outlet in the world. Your future will be over.”

  I study the monstrous m
an. His jaw clenches, and his dark eyes flash with . . . something. Unease. Nervousness. Fear. It’s so brief you almost miss it. Most people are probably afraid to look this man in his eyes and don’t see the emotions he clearly likes to keep hidden.

  I see them all.

  A villain isn’t always terrible and cruel and frightening. Sometimes they’re vulnerable and soft and gentle. I only know this because my heart is falling for one.

  I see you, Leo Morelli, whether you like it or not.

  “Stay true to your word, and I’ll stay true to mine.” I sit up and toss the towel off me as I fish through my wallet for a certain business card. “Let me make the call.”

  He pulls out my phone, standing close so he can watch me. The phone no longer requires a lock code, which means Scout already changed that feature. If Leo wasn’t breathing down my neck, I’d change it or delete the photos or something. Instead, I make my call.

  “Hello?”

  “Perry, please come pick me up. I need a ride to the ball.”

  Silence and then, “Is everything okay?”

  “I had a dress mishap. Would your sisters happen to have an extra?”

  There’s no way in hell I will allow the Terror Triplets the satisfaction of going to Winston’s birthday bash thinking they have the upper hand and that they won.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Hurry,” I croak out. “I’ll text you my address.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Leo takes my phone and shuts it off before pocketing it again. He studies me, his body rippling with power. Finally, he pats me on top of the head. “Don’t make me ruin your life, because I won’t even blink while destroying everything. This may be about Constantine, but I will take you down in a heartbeat. Are we clear?”

  “Crystal clear.”

  He walks over to my jar of cherry Starburst and grabs a handful before pocketing them. “I’ll be in touch, Miss Elliott. Very soon.” He stalks out of my room without a backwards glance.