CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - LYSSA

 

We have three days. That’s it. In three days my stepfather will go back to the estate and take charge of things again. Then there will be caterers, and event planners, and a tent will go up on the back lawn, and there will be decorators, and florists, and cake makers, and all that other shit that goes with a wedding.

And a husband.

In less than a week Dickerson Worthington will be dressed in a tux, standing at the altar, expecting me to walk down it and say “I do” in front of everyone.

That can’t happen.

And I know Mason thinks I’m this tough girl. This fighter who wins all the battles.

But it’s not true. Not when it comes to my stepfather.

He will get his way. That’s what he does. What he’s always done.

It’s hard to imagine why I would give in to him. Even for me. And when I’m away, it’s fine. I’m fine. I have confidence, and I feel in control, and I am that wild girl Mason sees in me.

But when my stepfather is there… I don’t know what happens to me. I just can’t say no to him. I turn into my little girl self. And she is not a fighter. She is afraid. She wants to hide under her princess bed. She wants to run away, and tried to, many times, but she gets caught. She always gets caught and brought back. And it’s always a villain who catches me, never a prince.

Until now.

Mason Macintyre is a prince. And I want to ride off into the sunsets of Sweden with him today.

Before my stepfather figures out I’m gone. Before I’m captured by another villain and my prince gets away.

I start checking flights on Mason’s phone while he tries to come up with something for me to wear.

“Sweats?” he asks. “You can’t wear my jeans. They’re too baggy. I tell you what, if you wear sweats, I’ll wear sweats too. We’ll pretend we’re working out.”

For a second I picture myself walking through the park in sweats and have an instant revulsion at the thought. But then I picture both of us walking through the park looking like fitness partners. Holding hands like a cool, beautiful athletic couple.

And I love it. So I say, “Sure. I’ll wear the sweats.”

They are too big as well. But Mason just rolls the waist over a couple times and I tie a knot in his over-sized t-shirt. We look at ourselves in the mirror when we’re dressed.

I approve.

“Come on,” I say, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door. “I’m anxious to get these plans made.”

“We can’t make a flight today,” he says, grabbing his keys and his phone as I tug him out into the hallway. “But there’s one on Tuesday.”

“Tuesday?” After checking for flights I have since learned that today is Sunday. I kinda lost track of time out at the estate. “No, there’s one tonight.”

“We can’t just book an international trip for tonight, Lyssa. We won’t even make it to the airport in time to check in. Tuesday is fine.”

No. Tuesday isn’t. Tuesday is way too close to Wednesday when my stepfather will come back out to the estate and figure out none of his big plans panned out.

He will realize I’ve skipped out. And he’ll know Mason helped me. “We could charter a jet,” I say as we get into the elevator.

He looks at me like I’m insane.

“I have credit cards.”

“I have money,” he says. “Even without your stepfather’s payment. But it’s excessive. We can wait—”

“We can’t wait,” I say, a little bit excited and loud.

He shoots me another weird look. Not like I’m insane, but like there’s something wrong with me.

“Sorry,” I say. “It’s just… I don’t want to confront my stepfather. I can’t see him, Mason. He will talk me out of this.”

“Just be strong,” he says, squeezing my hand.

But I shake my head. “No, you don’t understand how persuasive he can be. He’ll just come between us and take control and then I really will be stuck marrying stupid Dickerson.”

“No, you won’t,” he says. “I’ll be there with you. I’m not letting you out of my sight for one minute. So if he finds you, he finds me too.”

I’m not convinced but Mason turns and takes both my hands, gives them a good, hard squeeze and says, “I promise. I won’t let him take control of you again. I’m in charge now.”

I let out a long breath.

“Promise,” he repeats.

“OK,” I say. “Tuesday. But no later than Tuesday. Even if the flight is full.”

“If the flight is full, Wild Thing, I will get you your private jet.”

I repeat his words over and over again as we walk through the park holding hands.

I’ll be there with you.

I’m in charge now.

And I believe him. I really do. I put my stepfather’s reaction three days from now out of my mind and enjoy the walk through the park.

We are a couple.

“Well, this is me,” I say as we leave the park and cross the street. Both of us look up at my building. It’s much taller than Mason’s and there is only one penthouse and it’s mine.

“Pretty nice,” he says.

“It is nice,“ I say. “And it’s the only thing I have in my own name. Aside from that disgusting house in the country. This was the only thing he couldn’t steal from me because it was secured in a separate trust that came from some secret account my mother had with my real father.”

“Your real father,” Mason says. Like he’s never considered that there was another man in my life once upon a time. “What happened to him?”

“It’s a weird, sad story,” I say.

Mason looks at me like he has never been more interested in what I have to say, ever. “Tell me,” he says, squeezing my hand.

“I don’t know if I can. It’s… not normal.”

“Not normal how?” He asks.

“I don’t really know. He just left one day when I was little and never came back. Then this apartment turned up out of nowhere after my mom died and I graduated from college.”

It’s not entirely true. I know what happened to my real father. My stepfather told me that story often enough when I was small. Trying to make a point I guess. That he left. He chose to leave me and my mother behind. And that my stepfather was in control of my life now, the same way he was in control of my mother’s.

But it’s not a story you tell people. Not even a guy like Mason.

“You never tried to contact him? And he never tried to contact you?”

But I can see he’s not going to let this go. So I have to tell him some of it.

“No,” I say. “He didn’t come to my mother’s funeral. He’s not even on my birth certificate anymore because it was changed after the adoption. And that happened back when I was seven, and by that time… I don’t know how to explain it. I was just… Lyssa Baylor. I don’t even remember my first last name. And no one will tell me now.”

That part is true. I really don’t know who he is. I can’t even remember his face. My stepfather got rid of all my mother’s photos of him.

“Hmmm,” Mason says. “But he must be somebody important if he and your mother put together such an extravagant gift as this?”

“You’d think,” I say. “But… I doubt it.”

I spot the doorman as we approach and smile, ready to say hi, but he’s busy with another tenant and doesn’t see me. Inside everyone is busy so even though I’m polite to everyone here and normally say hello, I don’t get a chance.

Mason follows my lead, still holding my hand, as we walk to the elevator. Inside, when the doors open, I scowl at the elevator attendant. “Who are you?”

“Charles, ma’am. And you are?” He gives me a tight smile. “I’m new here.”

“Lyssa Baylor.”

“Ah, top floor it is,” he says, entering a key card and pushing the button for my apartment.

I glance at Mason and sigh. He raises his eyebrows at me and smiles. Be patient, that smile says. New guy.

Fine.

But I know these building people. They are like friends and I had to walk in like a nobody. It kinda kills my good mood.

The elevator doesn’t open up into my apartment, thank God. That’s always freaked me out. So we get off in the hallway outside the double doors of my apartment and I punch in the security code to unlock it.

The lock beeps green and Mason opens the door wide and waves me forward in front of him like a gentleman.

A loud noise fills my ears and then everything happens in slow motion.

Mason’s body jerks back and falls to the floor.

I scream, and someone grabs me, putting a hand around my mouth. I kick, and fight, and elbow them in the ribs.

But there’s another man and then another and another. And three large blocks of pure muscle wrestle me to the ground and stick something sharp into my upper arm. It burns.

I bite the hand covering my mouth, still kicking, and writhing, then scream when he pulls it off my face.

But they flip me over, face down, and I have to turn my head so I don’t smash my nose into the cold, stone floor.

My stepfather stands off to the side, hands behind his back, rocking on his heels like this is just another day. Just another fight with Lyssa. Just one of many.

“Be a good girl now, Lyssie. It’s OK. I’m going to take you home now.”

I breathe hard, screaming curses at him. “You asshole! You fucking asshole! What did you do?”

One man places a knee on my back, forcing all the air out of my lungs, and I feel like I’m going to suffocate. They hold me like that for several minutes as I writhe and fight.

“You will marry Dickerson Worthington, Lyssie. It’s all set up. And you will live in that house as his wife. You will be the woman I’ve spent all these years turning you in to.”

“You’re sick,” I say. “You’re so sick.”

“No, sweetie. It’s you who’s sick. But don’t worry, we’re going to take care of you. We’re going to make sure everyone knows how sick you are and get you the help you need.”

I look at Mason, collapsed on the floor next to me. “What did you do?” I scream. But it’s weak. I can barely breathe.

“He overstepped and filled your head with delusions.” My stepfather tsks his tongue. “It’s a good thing I had people watching the house. Just forget about him now. I’ll take care of everything and no one will know what happened here but us.”

His men pull me to my feet but I’m already wobbly from the drug. They have to hold me up and my feet drag across the floor as we leave the apartment.

The elevator door is open and waiting, the unfamiliar operator pressing the buttons for the lowest garage level where deliveries come in.

And then I just… fade away.