Page 80 of Vow of Revenge
Cynthia swallowed her tongue, retreating to her seat. I stumbled from her apartment and out into the street. The cold winter air bit my flesh.
Dublin was no longer my home.
My apartment was no longer my home.
I needed to leave this place.
She wouldn’t return my calls.
It was over.
The truth was hidden behind anger. Masked in dark misconceptions.
I went to her apartment, only to be told by security that Calvin terminated the lease and the entire contents were packed up by an independent removal company.
She was gone.
I loved her. No, I didn’t love her – my entire soul was woven into hers with a deeper emotion than I could tolerate.
I was deeply, madly and unbearably in love with her soul, her heart, her smile – with Freya Harte Beaumont – and she hated me.
Hotels can be fun, if you’re with a lover or spending time in the spa with a girlfriend, or sister. This time, my stay was as lonely as my soul. I decided to return to Belfast, where I grew up, before I coaxed Syrah down to Dublin for an independent life. What an idiot. As if I knew what she needed. I was just a stupid girl, stuck in my own morals and pathetic ideals of a life better lived, an existence outside of wealth.
What a pile of shit.
I was wrong about everything.
Calvin was happy to have me back up North. He had begged me to return to him, to our family home, but I couldn’t, I needed space. I was angry at his underhand medalling, but I was also grateful that he cared enough to do so. I was frustrated with my life, with my mother’s brutal death yet peaceful in the knowledge that she fought back and sought her own justice. She was more of a woman than I was. Instead of facing my tormentor, I ran away.
The nightmare was over, so I told myself anyway. Every night spent alone was a night of misery. I couldn’t even dream in peace without Kaleb’s wicked tongue teasing my skin or his crystal blue eyes glistening like a pool of tranquillity, a misleading sanctuary. My soul was empty, drained of his love and stripped bare from the bereavement of my sister.
I spent days hidden away, ordering room service and writing. Like a hibernating bear, only I kept my hairy bits shaved and maintained.
Today was the first day I felt like venturing outside. I pulled on a pale blue cashmere jumper and stepped into navy skinny jeans, noticing how they hung on my usually curvy hips.
My inbox pinged. I had distributed my business details to several companies, hoping for a door to open of its own free will. I needed to earn my own cash, even though Calvin was footing my hotel bill and putting me up in the master suite for as long as I wanted.
I sucked in a gust of air. My heart raced.
Email: Kaleb De Courcy
Heading: We need to talk
Freya,
We have important details to discuss. I know you’re in Belfast. Please meet me. Just half an hour and I will explain everything.
Kaleb
I hated him.
I craved him.
I wanted to spit on his face.
I wanted to lick it off.
There was no way in hell I could meet him. I didn’t trust myself not to fall for his bullshit again. He was a liar with meaningless words, a thief who stole my heart and the son of an evil bastard who tortured and killed my mother. No matter how real it once felt, it was too fucked up to go anywhere.
