Page 36 of Save Me
The SUV chews up mile after mile, night still surrounding us as we head back the way we came. I don’t even know where they’re taking me exactly.
“Where are we going?” I ask eventually.
“Your dad’s house,” Callum murmurs.
“Oh.” I don’t even know where he lives, yet these guys do. That seems wrong on so many levels I can’t even count them.
Thayer turns onto a tree-lined street in a very fancy neighbourhood not far from Crestmont and pulls into a driveway. Aaron’s mansion looms on the horizon, an edifice of wealth and might. It rears from the landscape, all sharp angles and sprawling grounds, so different from the cramped quarters of my mother’s flat.
“Fuck,” I breathe as Thayer presses the buzzer to announce our arrival at a little before 4 AM.
No one replies, but the massive electric, wrought-iron gates open, and Thayer slowly drives up the red-bricked driveway,taking me into a world that I couldn’t have possibly imagined was so close to me until now.
12
VOGUE
I sit tight,taking it all in. The sumptuous mansion with its intimidating façade feels like a slap across the face with its lavish excess. It’s a different planet compared to where I was dragged up, and the reminder stings like hell.
As we pull up to the front, lights flicker on inside, chasing away the shadows of night that cling to the windows. A cold shiver runs down my spine because now I wonder if he knows why we’re here before we’ve even stepped inside.
Thayer parks close to the entrance, killing the engine. The silence that follows is heavy, pressing down on me until I feel like I can’t breathe. I need air, space. But most of all, I need fucking answers.
Before any of us can move to get out of the SUV, the front door opens, and Aaron stands there, a mug of something steaming in his hands. He is dressed casually, which is neither surprising nor unusual at this hour, but it makes him look more ‘Daddish’ than I’ve ever seen him.
“Vogue,” he says when I climb out and approach him.
“Where is she?” I demand without preamble.
Aaron’s gaze slides over me, then to the guys as they join me. No one speaks; it’s my show here.
“Who isshe?” he asks, bringing those cold eyes back to me.
“Mum’s gone, her phone’s disconnected, her flat’s rented out. What do you know about it? Anddo notlie to me. I know you know something.”
Aaron takes a sip from the mug with a controlled motion that’s neither hurried nor dismissive. He studies me, his eyes settling into the hard lines of someone measuring his next move on a chessboard.
“Vogue, let’s go inside. It’s damn cold out here,” he says finally, stepping aside to let us pass. There’s an edge to his words that suggests this isn’t a conversation for the open air. It also tells me that whatever he’s about to say isn’t going to be good.
The interior of the mansion makes me choke back a sob of longing. It’s utterly gorgeous. The marble floor, the soaring ceilings, the art that probably costs more than my mother would earn in a lifetime. The guys follow me in, a silent, solid presence at my back. I feel them there, their support a tangible thing in this foreign space.
Aaron leads us into what looks like a study—book-lined walls and leather furniture. It’s extravagant but lived-in at the same time. He sits behind an oversized desk while we remain standing, looking out of place with our lack of sleep, travel-worn clothes and tense expressions.
I cross my arms over my chest, needing the barrier against whatever’s coming. “Talk,” I say flatly.
He takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly. “Megan has left the country. Packed her bags and fucked off.”
“What?” I snap. “Don’t be ridiculous. She could never afford to…” That ice in my veins is now spreading out to my entire body. I shake my head. “No.”
“I’m afraid so. After you informed me that you hadn’t seen even a penny of that money I gave her to make sure your life was comfortable but not extravagant so as to draw attention to yourselves; I went searching for answers.”
“You’re lying.” Tears well up and spill down my cheeks before I can stop them.
“I wish I was,” he grits out, pissed off. “But she saved all that money up, it seems, so that once you flew the coop, she could do a runner from her sad life to live it up in Jamaica.”
“No!” I roar, slamming my hands down onto the mahogany desk that separates us. The room seems to vibrate with my denial. “She wouldn’t do that! She wouldn’t just leave me without a fucking word!”
Aaron remains impassive, leaning back in his chair as if bracing for my outburst. “Believe it or not, Vogue, it’s true.” He reaches into a drawer and places an innocuous brown folder on the desk between us.
