What's Left Of Me (The Firebird Trilogy Book 2) (5 page)

She clicked it off and stuffed the donut into her mouth, her neck and shoulders knotted. She needed that massage after all. And maybe a punching bag for the gym.

Chapter Five

Alex

“What is with you people?” Alex leaned forward and squinted at the woman across from him. Spasms lurched through his stomach. He’d lied to Stephanie about where he was going and had been late on top of it. “You’re coming out of the woodwork lately.”

Courtney flipped her chestnut hair over her shoulder. Her smarmy smile instigated the urge to throttle the bitch. “A million or your wife and the whole world find out you’re a freak.”

“I’m not a freak,” he said through clenched teeth and glanced around the coffee shop.

“Does your wife know what you really like to do during sex?”

His cheeks caught fire.

“Oh, that’s right. You’re bipolar. That’s your excuse for everything now.”

What once boiled over as violent rage now threatened to become tears. Which was worse—looking like a psycho or a pussy? “Shut the fuck up. Don’t you dare say a word about my wife.”

“Aw, you have a sensitive side now. I hear fatherhood does that. The stories your daughter is going to hear about you.”

He shot up from the table and, gripping the edges, reared over her. “You’re not going to see a dime from me, and neither is that other lying
súka
. You want to release it? Go ahead. Let the world see what a filthy whore you really are.”

She sank back in her chair, her face pale, as his revulsion swept over her in blistering swells.

“You have a boyfriend, isn’t that right? He’d never touch your nasty
piz′da
again if he saw that video. Does he know he got my sloppy seconds?”

“You hate women, don’t you?”

“I hate women like you. Now stay the fuck out of my life.” Alex limped away and down the street, where he sat in the Mercedes, shaking, tears simmering in his eyes. Too heated to drive home, too appalled at the things he’d said so easily despite his hatred for Courtney. How easily he’d said similar things to Stephanie when he was in the hospital. The blatent animosity.

That kind of man was unfit to raise a daughter.

***

Stephanie

Stephanie sat forward with her arms resting on a table as the doctor scrubbed her skin where he would perform the biopsy. She tried not to pick at the nail polish applied after her mani-pedi at the spa the other day. Anything pink or girly made her cringe; fortunately, she’d found a color called Night Breed, black with silver glitter, that was too fun to pass up.

The doctor had given her a mild sedative, but she was far too awake and aware of the procedure. Too cognizant of the implications should the result be positive. A pinch stung her back when he injected a local anesthetic. “I’m going to make a small incision, then insert the needle into the abnormality. Keep still for me, okay?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. Pressure, then a short, sharp pain in her back and through her lung where the needle located its target. The doctor extracted the aberrant tissue and applied more pressure to stop the bleeding before bandaging her.

“We’ll have results in no more than a week. Go down the hall for your X-ray, then we’ll get you out of here.”

“Does it look cancerous?”

“I’d rather not make any guesses. Sometimes things that look cancerous aren’t, and vice versa. We’ll call your doctor as soon as we know one way or another.”

“All right. Thank you.”

Stephanie plodded down the hall, her gown flapping against her exposed back.
I’ll be fine if I believe I am.
A child’s logic. But even a child wasn’t stupid enough to believe anything was fine.

***

Alex was sitting in the great room, hunched on the couch with his head in his hands. Medication couldn’t prevent his dark moods completely, only dull them, and they remained obvious when they struck. Stephanie fed Anya, changed her, then put her down for a nap. Alex hadn’t moved.

“Alex? Honey?”

He curled his fingers tighter in his hair, his cheeks blotchy.

“What’s wrong?” She sat beside him and lowered his hands. Strands of black hair fluttered onto his lap. “Stop,” she murmured. “Stop hurting yourself.”

His beautiful face contorted into a mask of heartrending agony he concealed behind his hands.

“Alex, talk to me. Please. Do you want me to call your doctor?”

He shook his head. “I just want to be normal.”

“You’re Aleksandr Volynsky. You’re never going to be normal.” She nuzzled his ear. “What happened? You were fine when I left. Did everything go well at your meeting?”

He gave her the look of someone about to vomit. “You’re going to leave,” he whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I lied to you. I didn’t have a meeting. I just didn’t want you to know where I was going.”

Her chest tightened. “Go on.”

“I met with someone who…” He smeared his hands down his face and stared out the windows. “She has a video.”

“A video.” Stephanie’s stomach turned inside out. “Well, I suppose we should’ve seen that coming eventually.”

“I wanted to make the video. She didn’t do it secretly.”

“I see.”

“It was two years ago. But I don’t want you to think…I can’t let you see that. Even if she releases it. She wants a million dollars to keep it off the internet. Please don’t watch it. I can’t—”

“Alex, slow down. Breathe. She’s blackmailing you? Over a sex tape?”

“It’s not just…I did things.” His Adam’s apple dipped. “Please don’t ask. Please don’t make me tell you.” Tears thickened his voice.

Jesus, what is in that video? What don’t I know about him, even now?
“Why?”

“If it gets out, they’ll convene a grand jury. I know they will. It’s the evidence they’re looking for that I could hurt someone.” He bowed his head to his hands again. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Alex—”

He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, leaving them red and puffy, then stood up. “I’m sorry. I’m going for a walk,” he said, his voice brittle.

“All right. Just…”

He stopped at the door and turned to her, waiting for her to say it.
Don’t do anything stupid.

“Don’t forget your phone.”

Alex snatched it from the counter and left without another word.

***

Stephanie wheeled Anya into the en suite and parked her by the shower, then shed her clothes and sank into the tub’s hot, frothing water. Massage jets eased the tension from her muscles but not from her mind. No Alex. Not even a call, and her attempts had gone to voicemail. He could’ve met up with Jacob and gone out somewhere. She consoled herself with that possibility, but she couldn’t put out of her mind what must be on that video. What he’d deemed so depraved he’d break down over it.

The front door opened and closed. Keys clanked on the counter, then footsteps padded up the stairs. She watched the doorway. Alex peered in, caught sight of Anya, and leaned over the bassinet to give her a tender kiss. Then, straightening, he gazed at Stephanie from across the room. His stare fell upon the tips of her breasts visible above the water.

She pressed a finger to her lips before licking them. No speaking, not right now.

He stripped off his clothes, his exquisite, tattooed body awakening her appetite for him. She shifted to make room, and Alex climbed into the tub. He remained flaccid even when she straddled him. With his hands on her waist, he closed his eyes and nestled his face in the crook of her neck.

She laid her cheek against his hair and circled her arms around his broad shoulders. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Not this.” He let out a heavy, shuddering sigh. “I don’t want Anya to grow up hating me.”

“How could she ever hate you?”

“The way I treated people…I don’t hate women.”

“Who said you did? Alex, what is on that video?”

Alex cradled her head and, having compelled her lips to part, slid his tongue slowly over hers. He captured her bottom lip between his and sucked on it before letting go. A delicious distraction, but not enough to quell her fears.

“I’m worried about you, Alex.”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I know that.” She stroked his hair and gazed into his eyes, portals revealing a terribly frangible creature within the suit of armor he’d constructed to protect it. They were watering, looking back at her but their focus turned inward, toward whatever secrets he withheld. Stephanie grazed her fingertips over the firebird on his arm.
When are you going to give him the hope he needs?

“Your biopsy,” he said softly. “How did it go?”

“We should have results in a week, maybe less.” She lifted her chin, hoping to inspire in at least one of them a confidence she didn’t feel. The burning sensation under her breastbone persisted. “Alex, I need to know you’re okay. For Anya.”

“I don’t know if anything is okay. Not you, not me. Do I?” He broke eye contact. His shoulders sagged, and his face slackened with the exhaustion of so many burdens. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

Her hands fell away from him, having lost their purpose. Suddenly cold, she chafed her arms instead. “All right.”

“Good night.” Water cascaded from him as he rose and grabbed a towel. After drying off, he gave Anya one last kiss before disappearing into the bedroom.

***

Stephanie bypassed the main office for the elevator to the executive offices two floors up, where the receptionist buzzed Jessica. “Go on in,” she said cheerily. With a painful, taut smile, Stephanie politely nodded.

“Well hello!” Jessica edged around her desk and hugged her. “How’s Anya? You look great, by the way.”

No excuse to avoid getting back in shape with a gym in the house, but she couldn’t make the inside match the outside. “She’s wonderful. And thank you.”

Jessica settled back into her leather chair and arched an eyebrow. “And how are you? What brought you back so soon?”

“I…” Stephanie laced and unlaced her fingers. “God, I feel like the worst mother ever. I’m already dying to go back to work. Is that horrible?”
Dismiss it as baby blues. Please. I don’t love having shit up my arms when I change a diaper. I don’t love waking up to high-pitched shrieks at three in the morning. I don’t love wondering if she’s died because babies have such strange breathing patterns. Tell me I’m not an awful mother. An awful
person
.
“I just can’t sit there doing nothing but taking care of a baby.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I love her to death, I really do. But I’m not that person.”

“Some people go back to work right away. Some never do. There’s no right or wrong, only what makes sense for you.”

Stephanie flopped back in her chair. She drew a deep breath through her nose and exhaled with thoughtful quietness. She’d never been one to rely on others for validation, but motherhood was still largely uncharted territory for her. For now, though, other matters required her attention.

“So here’s my idea,” Jessica said. “We get out in front of the rape allegation. Take some of the power away from whoever’s doing this.”

Stephanie shifted her gaze to the window.

“What’s wrong?”

“I thought the rape allegation was the worst it could get. But last week he told me someone is threatening to release a sex video. He refuses to tell me what’s on it. Won’t even talk about it.”

Jessica folded her hands and tilted forward. “What do
you
think is on it?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure I don’t want to. But the way he acts when it comes up…” Beyond the glass, Lake Erie reflected pendulous rain clouds, the water’s fragile surface shivering with wind as though it would shatter. “It’s bad. And I have to find out what it is.”

***

A sudden hush fell over the office, the way it did when the subject of secret gossip walked unannounced into a room. Awkward clearing of throats and heads swiveling back toward monitors. Stephanie set her bag down, dropped into her chair, and switched on her computer, her face hot. A slew of “welcome back” and congratulatory emails had stacked up in her inbox. Thanks to the show, she no longer wrote full-time, maybe one editorial or feature a week instead of a daily column. She had shaved her fifteen-hour days, when as a reporter she arrived at First Niagara Center at 9:45 a.m. and didn’t leave until 12:30 a.m. after scrambling to submit copy, down to twelve. Now she woke at 3:00 a.m. to reach the studio by four for a show that started at six. In bed by 8:00 p.m. Though she usually made it home by mid-afternoon, the idea that she and Alex didn’t spend enough time together had grown increasingly bothersome. She’d been doing little things like hiding naughty notes in his pockets or sending racy photos to his phone, but nothing proved an adequate substitute even for cuddling and kissing, let alone making love.