Page 15 of Demon's Angel

Another rise and dip of his chin, encouraging me to continue.

“I needed to find a well-paying job here. Vicky was already helping out, said she could do more hours if I was bringing the money in.”

“You studied business management or some such shit, didn’t you?”

It’s my turn to nod. “I majored in art but realising I might find it hard to earn a living doing what I love, I took courses in business studies alongside. Anyway,” I pause, gathering the strength to tell him the cold facts calmly. “I told you the other day I was taking what jobs I could, while looking for something more suitable. Thought I’d found something when I answered an ad for a manager, seemed something I could turn my hand to. By then I was starting to get desperate, I’d had a few interviews, but was never called back. I knew it wasn’t the ideal job, but it was more like the kind of money I hoped to be earning.”

His eyebrow rises as he sees me bite my lip. My hands clench together and begin to twist in my lap. I allow myself a moment to watch his throat work as he swallows his beer, then, when he puts the bottle back down, I resume.

“I had an interview with the person who introduced himself as the owner. It seemed to go well. A day later, I had a phone call, and he invited me out for a drink.” Seeing his quick look, I hurriedly correct any mis-assumption, “It was a business meeting. The job was mine; apparently, he just wanted to go over some details.”

The look on his face, his intense doubting eyes on mine, is familiar. No, the jury hadn’t believed me, either. It makes me sound so naïve, which I was.

Chapter Six

Demon

That it’s gut-wrenchingly hard for her to tell her story is clear. That it’s going to be equally difficult for me to hear is also true. So far I’m reading she was gullible, used. Why should she have street-smarts? She wasn’t brought up the same way as I. Nathan and I shielded her, protected her, when perhaps we should have explained how the world works. When Nathan had gone, I should have kept tabs on her, should have fucking known she was back in town. Should have checked up on Nathan’s kin, not assumed that, as they were the same age as my parents, that they’d have been jogging along just fine. I should have been there for her.

What she’s been through in the past few months? I should have been there beside her. If I had known, what she’s going to say next might not have occurred. One thing I’ve already changed my mind on, there’s no doubt she loves the kid. She truly believes handing him off like she’d done was the best she could do. I’m beginning to suspect there’s a whole load of pain on someone’s horizon, but I’m going to have to coax her to tell me whose it is.

Her eyes are red and swollen, tears still glistening where they hadn’t all dried, but it doesn’t detract from her ethereal beauty that remains visible underneath. When I’d carried her, she’d melded perfectly to my body. When I’d held her against me, it was all I could do to keep my cock under control. It’s getting harder and harder to remind myself she’s Nathan’s kid sister, someone completely off-limits. I suspect she’d be disgusted if she knew exactly how the man she looks up to really wants to comfort her. I’ll push all those selfish thoughts out of my mind, then do what I can to help her. After that I’ll send her on her way with a promise that I’ll be there as a big brother, be an uncle to her kid. Now she’s got no family to speak of, I can at least step up and do that.

But first I’ve got to know what I’m fighting. I wish she’d drink something stronger than water, it might help her get this painful memory out. That milk drying on her t-shirt, the reminder she’s ripe and fertile is not a turn off for some reason. In fact, it’s hard to keep my eyes on her face and not react like Theo would most likely do, and reveal my hunger for a taste. What the fuck is happening to me? A lactating woman with a kid attached has never attracted me in the least. I’d laugh if my mirth wasn’t sure to upset her; if she guessed the real reason, that is.

“Go on,” I encourage, croakily, having to cough to clear my throat.

“I went for the meeting.” Her eyes close. In memory? Or does she not want to see my expression? “I dressed smartly, nothing sexy. I was looking for employment, not preparing for a night on the town. I wore a suit jacket matched with a knee-length pencil skirt. It was grey, and my shirt was white.”

The unimportant details are either helping her focus or justifying what happened next wasn’t her fault. I have no doubt in the matter. Girl can walk around naked, but if she says she’s not interested, a man should take note. Even our sweet butts can refuse our attentions if they’re having an off night and are not in the mood. Though, too many refusals and they’d be out on their ass; we’re paying them to put out after all.

This time the pause is lengthy. “What happened?” I prompt.

“I accepted a small glass of wine, drank it slowly. He took me through business hours, the days I was expected to work. I asked a few details on what the job entailed, and that’s when he became a bit vague. It didn’t strike me as suspicious; he brushed it off as stuff I could learn on the job.”

“Were you attracted to him? Show him any interest?”

“No, I did not.” She sounds and looks adamant. “If you must know, I thought he was a sleaze. But beggars can’t be choosers, and no one needs to like their boss to go to work.” When I raise my chin in acknowledgement, she carries on, “I finished my wine. There didn’t seem anything more that needed to be said. I stood to go, he told me to wait there as he was going to the bathroom, and that he’d be back and see me out to my car. Just sounded like a gentleman. He was gone before I could tell him there was no need. He returned shortly after, carrying another two drinks. Again, it wasn’t a huge glass, and I knew I’d be alright to drive. I didn’t feel I could refuse. I’d just agreed to take the job after all. He said it was a celebratory gesture.”

A second drink which she hadn’t seen poured. “He roofied you.”

Her lips purse. “He did.”

“Do you remember any of it?”

The blood drains from her face. I feel a bastard for pushing her, but I can’t stop asking for details. “Vi, tell me.”

“I don’t remember. Not… not that part. I was sore the next morning. I, er, woke in his bed.” Her face has paled even further. “I guessed what had happened. I accused him of rape. He said I’d come onto him, and that he’d done me the favour of taking me to bed. He wasn’t bothered I’d accused him, he… he just laughed and said no one would ever believe it. That he hadn’t particularly enjoyed it, and that after all that, I wasn’t someone he wanted working for him and hadn’t got the job. Then he booted me out.”

He’s dead. He’s fucking dead. No two ways about it. I won’t do it fast, nah, I’ll take my time. When he’s begging for death, I’ll start all over again.

My fists clench and unclench, and I draw in a deep breath, then another, in a vain attempt to calm myself down. Eventually I can ask, keeping my tone even, “Did you report it?” If only I’d stayed close to her, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now.If I’d been around, the fucker would have been dead the next day.

“Not then, no. I was in shock. I believed him, you see, that I couldn’t back up my story. I was in a hell of a state. Vicki came the day after; I didn’t think she was working until the day after that. I was as confused as hell. Must have been walking around in a daydream. When I eventually pulled myself together and could think, I realised I’d heard Rohypnol, or whatever he used, doesn’t stick around in your system long. I was drinking with him voluntarily and left with him. No one knew I was interviewing for a job, there had been no other staff in the office. The bartender? What would he have seen? A girl who couldn’t hold her drink. I got tested, I was clean, I thanked my lucky stars for that and that I couldn’t remember the details, and promised myself never to get in that position again.” Her voice is trembling. She’d been affected much more than she’s letting on, but like she dealt with the death and otherwise loss of her parents, she’s struggling to be practical and strong. My heart bleeds for her, my brain has new respect for her.

Now her lips purse, this time in determination. Unable to stop myself, I reach for her hand. “It didn’t work, did it? However you tried to forget it, you couldn’t. Shit like that stays with you, Vi.” I’ve had my recent experience with Moira to realise it remains with you forever, that it never fades from your memory even after almost four decades have passed. The circumstances were different, but still the horror would be retained in the back of your mind. Especially with a constant reminder. Like I’d been there to remind Mom, Vi had Theo. I stare at her. “You weren’t a virgin, were you?” At the side-to-side motion of her head, I continue, “You weren’t a virgin, but you had sex against your will. By a man who should never have taken advantage of you. By someone who had to drug you to get you into bed.” I tap her forehead. “I’d bet good money you still have nightmares.”

Her eyes fix on me, surprised at my level of understanding. Perhaps a few months back I wouldn’t have been able to comprehend how being taken advantage of like that, used without giving her consent, would make a woman feel. But I did know; it had happened to my mom. Only recently I’d had to come to terms myself that I was a product of rape, had had to delve down deep inside me to examine whether I carry any traits of my true bloodline, dealing with the knowledge the man who’d sired me was a rapist.

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