Page 18 of Inside the Maelstrom: Part One
I uncurled myself and stood, resetting my fucking backbone. I needed to get out of here, out of this house, out of this city.
Grabbing my coat from where I’d laid it over the hall table, I slipped on my shoes. I paused at the front door. I didn’t want to ever come back here—not in three weeks and not in three decades. I raced back up the stairs, not even trying to be quiet this time. Tearing open my bedroom door, I walked to the back of the closet again, grabbing a duffle and flipping open the safe. I unloaded everything; I’d store it at Otto’s house. I couldn’t trust it here with them and I never wanted to come back.
In went a photo of me and Otto as kids, and of my grandparents in the kitchen of their home in Martha’s Vineyard. The rest of my money went in there, as well as my grandfather’s 1971 Rolex Daytona and my grandmother’s Cartier engagement and wedding ring set. My mother had been pissed when I’d inherited those rings.
I hitched the bag over my shoulder and took off out of my room like the hounds of Hell were biting at my ass. I strode past my mother coming out of her bedroom—before lunch, shockingly.
“Hendrick? When did you get home?” I didn’t stop, didn’t even slow my step. Just took the stairs two at a time and burst through the front door.
Hailing a cab, I climbed in the back, directing him to the St. Regis. I pulled out my cell and called Otto. He answered on the third ring, probably because I never called. Calling was for doctors’ offices, serial killers and emergencies.
As if to prove my point, Otto’s first words were, “Are you okay?”
Despite the thumping pain in my head, I smiled. “I’m good, man. Can I stash some stuff at your house?”
“Sure. Put whatever you want in my room. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Never better. I’ll see you soon.” I hung up and leaned toward the cab driver's seat. “Actually, take me to Bayridge.”
I spent the thirty minute cab ride scrolling through social media, deleting the DMs from ugly Instagram girls and social media influencers who wanted to use my clout for their own gain. Not going to lie though, I answered a couple of the prettier Instagram models.
When the cab pulled up in front of what had to be the all-American dream house, I smiled. Everything from the manicured topiaries, to the bright lace curtains, to Otto’s cat Steve McQueen sitting in the driveway, made me happy.
Otto’s family had always been comfortably well off. This house had been in their family for generations. Love and laughter seeped into the walls, and everything was bright and well loved. In summary, it was the antithesis of my own family home.
I paid the cabbie and climbed out, walking up the manicured path to the front door that I knew better than my own. Pulling out my keys, I hesitated, before stuffing them back into my pocket and knocking.
Letitia, Otto’s mom, opened the door. “Hendrick! How… What the hell happened to your head?”
Ah shit. The blood from my temple. I swiped at it with my jacket sleeve, and she slapped at my hand.
“Don’t do that! You’ll stain your jacket and get cloth fibers in the wound. Come in, I’ll clean that up.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me into the house. “Hendrick…”
I knew what she was going to say. She’d been gently saying it to me for years. Since the first time I’d turned up on her doorstep with a fat lip, she’d given me the same advice. Call the police. Talk to someone at school. Move in with them. So many solutions to a problem that had no solution.
“It’s fine, Letitia. Never again.”
She gave me a sad smile. “Come on. Put that in Otto’s room, and I’ll get my llama bandaids to patch up your head.”
Chapter10
Aviva
Sampson stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, already on the phone. He had ink across his chest, up over his shoulders and down his arms to his elbows. It was like a dark swirling cape across his body.
I tried not to stare, but between the tattoos and the abs… I was only human, okay?
“I don’t care how long it normally takes, I need it tomorrow,” he snapped, walking to his giant closet. I breathed a relieved sigh when he covered up. He was too pretty, like a rough-hewn ancient warrior beneath a rich boy facade.
“We should go check out your bookstore,” Otto said right behind me, making me jump. I whirled around to see him standing there, grinning. “Better to get it done, don’t you think?”
My face flushed hot, and I nodded quickly. “Yes, of course.” I picked up my purse, and bounced toward the door, hoping that Sampson hadn’t caught me perving on him too. I cast a quick look over my shoulder, and crashed straight into his dark, intense gaze. My eyes fell to his full lips, twisted in a self-confident smirk.
Yeah. He knew. Fuck.
I hustled out the door after Otto, pretending it never happened. Being purposefully oblivious was a skill I’d mastered over the years. Otto didn’t speak as we stepped into the elevator, but the silence wasn’t awkward. It was oddly comfortable, considering I didn’t know this guy from Adam. We walked through the beautiful lobby of the St. Regis once again, and I gasped a little more. I couldn’t help it. It was gorgeous.
Out on the street, Otto turned to me, his smile bright. “It’s about a twenty minute walk, or we can catch a cab?” He indicated a cab that was coming down Fifth Avenue.
