Sine Qua Non

Chapter Twenty

Nicholas threw his car into park in front of V.H. Investigations. The fake Spanish revival tiling really set the stage. If you were going to hire a guy to catch your second wife cheating—or entrap your daughter who desperate to escape from your poisonous influence—why not hire someone who paid rent to work in a strip mall?

Jay had been very quiet on the drive over. She was always quiet, but usually her silences held a certain charge—judgmental, disapproving, wounded. But she hadn’t said a word since she’d taken the wine bottle from him and gulped it down with those dark siren eyes.

When they were young, she had always been the voice of reason. The conscience he’d never had. Hollybrook’s little angel, he had called her. Rule-abiding to a fault.

But as her eyes lifted from that bottle, she looked like every bad thought he’d ever had. He wasn’t sure what to make of her silence or that look, but he liked it, just as he’d liked seeing her finally stand up to her evil bitch of a mother.

“You think I was too harsh,” he said at last.

“What?” Jay blinked like she was coming out of a terrible dream. “No. She’s been awful my whole life but I just didn’t want to see it. To think that she would go through all that effort to hurt me . . . after all that I’ve been through—”

“It was cruel.”

“Yes, it was cruel.” She looked as remote as she had in those conference rooms, whenever he’d given someone a talking down. “For so long, she was the only family I ever had . . . and she made me feel so awful . She’s never looked at me the way that she looked at me today. Like she was afraid of me.”

“That’s called power,” he said. “Enjoy it.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t.”

“Why? Because it might make you a bad person?” He tilted her face towards his. “Be a bad person, then. Take a little pleasure in thwarting that spiteful bitch.” Who fucking hit you.

“Do you really think she’ll leave town?”

“God, I hope so.” He leaned back from her, reaching down to unbuckle his seatbelt. “I’ve always liked it better when the trash takes itself out.”

Jay slid out of the car, rubbing at the cheek her mother had slapped. Her face was solemn but there was a restless energy in her movements; it was as if she had been a wilting blossom that had just been placed in a new glass of water and finally allowed to bloom now that she’d shaken off her mother’s poison.

I see you now , he thought. This is the you that you don’t give anyone else.

Strong and even a little vicious beneath all the sweet.

The woman who fucked him with her nails buried in her back.

Frank Van Hoff was at his desk, sifting through his papers. He didn’t look up when the door opened. “I don’t take walk-ins. If you want to arrange a consultation, do it through my website.”

“I think you’ll want to see me.”

At the sound of his voice, Frank’s head whipped up just as Nicholas reached behind him to lock the door and flip the sign from OPEN to CLOSED.

“What do you want?” Frank demanded.

“My stepmother is a client of yours.”

“I don’t discuss clients with non-clients.”

“I just came back from talking with her,” Nicholas continued. “She informed me that she had been using your services, which she wouldn’t be needing anymore because she plans to leave town very, very soon—along with your nephew.”

The other man’s mouth tightened. Nicholas suspected Jake had already called to warn him, and maybe give his own colorful version of what had happened. Even when they were kids, he’d been a spineless weasel. First to throw the rock, first to deny the blame.

“You can call her yourself, if you don’t believe me.”

“What do you want?” he repeated.

Nicholas saw him tense as he put his hands on the man’s pretty polished desk and bent down, staring him right in the red-rimmed watery eyes that made him suspect that there was a bottle of whiskey locked in one of those many drawers.

“I want the negatives you have of us.”

“I don’t keep photographs in the office.”

“I think that’s a lie. You seem like a man who enjoys keeping his vices close. Give me the negatives and you can continue slithering under the radar to conduct your shady little business without any further interference from me. I doubt you’ll get a better deal elsewhere.”

“I only answer to the police.”

“I have a stake in almost every big property in town. Even your brother—the sheriff—looks to me during election time, which is coming up soon. Do you really think, knowing him as well as you do, that he would ever side with you over me? He didn’t even choose his own son.”

Frank studied him for a long moment, with the cold stare of a seasoned gambler. “Danielle owed me money. It doesn’t sound like she’ll be paying up now.”

“I’ll cut you a check.”

“Ten thousand. Plus expenses.”

“How affordable.” Nicholas reached for his checkbook. “She got what she paid for then.”

Frank barked out a humorless laugh. “She said you were a stone-cold motherfucker but I figured you were just another prissy little rich boy with a fire lit under his ass.”

“The negatives,” Nicholas said, without looking up. “Now.”

Frank reached into one of his drawers and slapped down an envelope. The edge of something glossy slid out of it. “It’s all in here. Call it a fucking wedding present. I don’t give a fuck.”

“I don’t want to see you anywhere near our home or offices again.”

“I doubt that will be a problem,” Frank said, lighting up a cigarette. Nicholas noted, with disgust, that the ashtray on his desk was overflowing. “You and I don’t exactly run in the same circles. I only knew your father because we played cards.”

“Lucky me.” Nicholas toyed with a dagger-shaped letter opener he’d plucked up from the desk. “I never gamble unless it’s a sure thing.”

“Be careful with that! That’s real sterling silver. I got it in Scotland.” He reached for the letter opener and Nicholas jerked it back, out of reach.

Frank turned irately to Jay. “Do you talk?”

Jay eyed him with distaste. Nicholas had been on the receiving end of that look before: it was just as scalding as he remembered and appeared to make Frank angry. As he reached down for the envelope and opened it with Frank’s fancy sterling silver letter opener, the other man said viciously, “I guess with a body like that, she doesn’t need to talk.”

Nicholas looked up, letting the blade slide noisily through the paper.

That gave Frank pause, but mean-spiritedness won out over caution.

“I remember your dad used to talk a lot about you when we played poker. He always talked about what a good girl you were. Figured you’d marry well, shore up the family business.” He smiled unpleasantly. “I suppose one of those things turned out to be true.”

“He was disgusting,” said Jay, “and so are you.”

“You married the fruit of his loins, honey,” he said, with a hoarse smoker’s laugh. “So how disgusting could he really be? I’ve seen the pictures. God, I thought your mom was a fox, but you do shit she wouldn’t do for free. What’s that old saying—lady in the streets, whore in the sheets? Maybe in ten years, you’ll thank my nephew for photographing your wedding n— motherfucker .”

A meaty thud pierced through his scream.

Nicholas pushed down harder on the handle, driving the sharp point of the letter opener into the web of flesh between the man’s thumb and forefinger, pining his hand to the desk.

Blood began leaking out, soaking into some of the nearby papers.

“If you go to the police,” Nicholas said casually, “I’ll find you and do the same thing to your dick. Even if they do put me away, I’ll get out and then I’ll come after you again. And then I’ll be angrier. You will suffer worse than you have ever suffered in your life. Do you understand?”

Moaning, Frank managed to bob his head.

“You don’t fuck with her.”

“Sorry,” he croaked.

“Not to me. To my wife.”

Swallowing back a whimper, Frank lolled his head towards Jay. “Sorry.”

“Oh my god, Nicholas,” Jay said. “Stop it. We need to go. Now .”

Nicholas slapped Frank in the face with the envelope. “Make sure you pass my message along to your nephew. Just in case he thinks he got off easily.”

Jay was stumbling, and the warm tones of her skin had taken on a slight grayish cast. As the doors swung back behind them, she looked around the half-full parking lot and said, in a low, terrified voice, “Nicholas, what the fuck? I mean, seriously, what the fuck ?”

“You expected me to stand there and let him talk to you like that?”

“You stabbed him in the hand . After threatening his nephew. My god, Nicholas, he could go to the police. They could both go to the police. Don’t you understand?” Her voice became higher, desperate. “They could arrest you and lock you away.”

“Jay.” He felt an unfamiliar heat in his face and throat.

“I don’t want to be alone. I can’t go back to—I can’t go back to before.” She reached for the doorhandle blindly and he caught her by the wrist, holding it against his chest. “Nick, I can’t—”

“Nothing is going to happen to me.” He folded his hands over hers. “But we’re not getting into this car until you promise me that I won’t wake up to an empty house.”

“No,” said Jay. “I wouldn’t leave. But we have to go—”

“You did leave me. Twice.”

“I know. I know. But I wouldn’t do it again.”

“Why did you leave that night? Why not the first one or the next? Why did you leave on the night I bared my fucking soul to you and chose you over my father?”

“Because what I saw in your eyes scared me. It wasn’t love—it was obsession. I saw a man who would burn down his entire world to make a place for me in its ashes, who didn’t care how many pieces he broke me into as long as he owned them all.”

“And now?” he asked, his voice hollow.

She plucked her hand from his face and held it in her own.

“And now I’d rather watch the world burn with you just as I am. So please , let’s go. Now.”

*****

Jay woke up to the smell of smoke.

She shot out of bed, panicked to find herself alone, the sheets next to her cold. But then she went to the window and looked through the glass, her breath fogging the clear surface.

Nicholas had the fire pit lit. The orange glow of the flames softened his profile, throwing the shadows of his bare torso into relief. He was feeding something into the fire—she thought, from the way their glossy surface reflected in the light, that they might be photographs.

There was something so very gothic about that: a man destroying relics of the past with fire. She twisted her wedding ring as she watched him, not sure what to make of his behavior. If he was the tortured, brooding master of the house, what did that make her? Not the wife in the attic, but the one he’d slash his way through hell and back to save.

Her face softened, fascinated by the way he carried himself when he thought he was alone. No airs or attempts at intimidation, just a man who moved confidently in his own skin.

A man who was desperately in love with her.

On her way out the door, she stopped by Nicholas’s nightstand and reached inside the drawer, tucking the small foil-wrapped packet she’d retrieved inside the bodice of her nightgown.

Walking down the steps in the dark, she noticed the ghostly spaces where photographs of Nicholas had once hung on the wall. He must have removed them—or his father had. There had never been any there of her. Only the spider sculpture and the blue jellyfish sculpture and windows that looked out onto a property that was slowly beginning to fall to ruin.

She remembered Nicholas’s offer to let her redecorate the way she wished. She really didn’t want to touch the house, but the bare grounds and the driveway could use some love. A pop of color amidst all that white.

Jay walked from the righthand staircase out to the sunroom. In the light of the moon, she thought the wicker furniture looked a lot like bone. She could smell the fire now, not just the smoke, and she thought it smelled rather awful. All those chemicals—breathing in god-knew-what just to make a point.

Nicholas looked up as her shadow stretched over the tile, and his eyes widened briefly before he turned back to the fire. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I smelled the smoke.”

“Pull up a seat then.” He tossed in another photo.

“I’m almost positive those fumes are toxic.” She pressed against him with one arm looped loosely around his waist from behind. She felt his body tense as she stretched to rest her chin on his shoulder. “Don’t you have a paper shredder?”

“I thought you’d appreciate the theatrics of it.”

“While I was asleep?”

He shrugged. “In absentia then.”

“I told you how I feel about bonfires.”

“Yeah, you did.” He watched the edges of one of the photos blacken and curl. “Want to tell me your dreams?”

“I don’t remember my dreams anymore and I have everything I want.”

She saw his cheek lift. He tossed in the final photograph and then the folder, for good measure. Gently, he extricated himself from her hold, turning to look at her with the reflection of the fire gleaming in his pale eyes. “If that’s the case, what do you want from me?”

“Come over here.” She tugged at his hand and he followed her to the planter—the same one where he had gotten down on his knees and begged her not to leave him before trying to pay her ten million dollars just so she could do exactly that.

You beautifully twisted man , she thought. Oh, how I love you.

“I can’t leave the fire,” he said, sounding amused, though the looks he was giving her in her thin lace dress made her feel as if she were curling up at the edges just like those blackened photos.

“Sit,” she said, and he did, his mocking half-smile becoming considerably more satisfied as she straddled his lap. The scent of jasmine suffused them both as they kissed, and even with her knees bruising on the tiled edge of the planter, she was as conscious as she always was of just how brutal a man he was beneath the streamlined tailoring of his expensive clothes.

She covered his hands with hers, pressing to keep them pinned against the ceramic. They both had long fingers, but his were broader, and stronger. She could feel the flex of the tendons as he looked at her with those hooded eyes. “You’re not going to be able to hold me down.” He tugged on her lip with his teeth. “I’ll fight back.”

Jay’s breath came a little shorter when kissed her again, sitting up a little as he did. She grabbed onto one of his shoulders to restabilize, and put her other hand over his chest.

“Fuck—” He arched into her touch when she rocked against his hips, a low, satisfied sound emanating from his throat as she slid her palm over his pectorals, and over the ridges of his abdomen. “What do you think you—” A shudder ripped through him as she thumbed his waistband, his belly hitching as she teased the dark line of hair that thickened beneath his navel. “ Jay .”

There was power in this. Making him want. Making him wait. All his life, he’d been given everything he ever wanted. Everything but her. And she had been on the outskirts of his orbit all along, oblivious, until she tried to leave, and he collided into her world with a violence that set her entire horizon ablaze.

Can I watch the world burn with you? he had asked, when he was the one holding the match.

But now she wore the world at her throat.

“Yes, Daddy?”

Nicholas pried her hands away and looked at her for just long enough to make her heart begin to pound in earnest before flipping her over one of his shoulders.

“Nick! The fire!”

“I don’t care,” he said, striding towards the house. “I think need to deal with you.”

“No.” Jay slapped at his back, kicking her legs ineffectively. “Put me down.”

“Why?” But he set her roughly on the ground, standing in a way that let her know that she wouldn’t get far if she tried to run. “Do you want me to fuck you in the pool?”

“No.” She reached into her bodice for the condom she’d plucked from his bedside drawer. “I want you to do it here. Under the flowers.”

He stared at his hand when she put the wrapper in it.

“Fuck me,” she said to him. “Please.”

This time, when he lunged, she let out a little scream as he half-pushed, half-tackled her to one of the loungers beneath the patchy shade of the flowers. She did fight him, and he fought back like he promised, kissing her into submission until all she could taste was smoke.

They fell asleep out there beneath the balmy skies, with the sweat of their exertion chilling on their skin. Flower petals had blown over them in a light shower, carried by the wind.

Jay opened her eyes. The fire had died to a few faintly glowing embers and Nicholas was tracing a sprig of jasmine around her breast, the feather-light touch raising goosebumps.

“That tickles,” she said.

“I keep thinking you’ll vanish.” He ran the flower up her throat. “I’ve had too many dreams that you were in my arms, only to wake up and realize it wasn’t real.”

“I’m real,” she said.

Nicholas tucked the flower into her hair and leaned over her again. “Show me.”

*****

Jay had already received three compliments on her “necklace” and after the first two, she had even managed not to blush. It really was exquisitely crafted. The semi-precious stones on the stainless-steel chain looked so demure, threading through the handcrafted leather band. Nobody looking at it could have guessed that Nicholas sometimes fucked her with that citrine bead in his fist, with six inches of its extended chain wrapped around his knuckles.

Don’t think about that now . She could feel the threat of a blush warming her cheeks and recentered the necklace absently, making the little stone spheres clatter against the citrine.

“The number of international clients in our portfolio is up 4.3% from last quarter,” Jay said. “And our retention is good. Customer Success sent out a survey: seventy-percent of our clients would be willing to work with us again.”

Everyone clapped politely and despite the nerves fluttering her gut, and an upcoming audit that she was very nervous about, she felt a flicker of pride. She had worked so hard for this, living and breathing this data. It wasn’t all that different from the work she had been doing for Arthur and Nicholas behind the scenes, but now it was her face up front, her name on the dotted line.

Justine Beaucroft, VP of Operations.

“All in all, it’s been a very successful quarter,” she finished, handing the remote over to Arthur, adding into the mic, “And things are looking even brighter for Q4.”

“Thank you very much, Jay,” he said. “Now I’m going to talk to you all about your favorite subject, OKRs.”

Jay glanced subtly at her phone screen as she took her seat up front, hiding her smile when she saw that she had a text from Nick. How was your speech?

It went well, I think. Thank you for practicing with me.

I saw it on the live-feed. It did go well.

After her promotion, Nicholas had stepped back into a consulting role. His choice—which surprised everyone, considering his ire when the option had been given at HR’s suggestion. “I think it’s time the company took a new direction,” was all he said. “I want to step back from managing and focus on maintaining a decent work-life balance.”

On paper, Nicholas was still the owner of the company, but he had hired a new CEO to take his place: a no-nonsense woman named Katie Chang, who had moved down from Silicon Valley to take on the new role.

Now, he ran his own schedule and came into the office on an as-needed basis, which seemed to please him. Jay wasn’t surprised—he seemed to relish the control. What did surprise her was the way he seemed to throw himself into managing the house. In the absence of a maid, it was not uncommon to come home to find him cleaning or staring down into a pot of boiling soup while adding ingredients with the contemplation of an alchemist at work.

Damon would have been rolling in his grave if he could see his son now.

I’m so flattered that the high-flying millionaire house husband tuned in to see me.

Of course. Did you remember to eat lunch?

Not yet. Jay glanced at Arthur, clapping in the appropriate spot. I’ll grab something after the All Hands meeting, I promise.

I know you, Jay. You forget when you’re nervous.

I won’t forget.

She watched Katie take the microphone from Arthur, clicking to a slide that showed a bunch of metrics for various departments and their performance. She thought wistfully of the first time she had listened to Nicholas speak at one of these meetings and how impressed she had been, seeing his depth of knowledge and casual competency.

Their marriage had raised some eyebrows, and she still heard the occasional whispers of disapproval, but it seemed like Nicholas’s jaded assessment of the town had been correct: money talked even louder than rumor. His sense for business outweighed his transgressions, and when he came into the office to discuss big clients or expansions, people still looked at him with respect.

Still, sometimes she found herself looking at that empty office on the mezzanine and thinking of how he used to make faces at her when he pestered her over text.

When he wasn’t here, she missed him.

After a full day of back-to-back meetings, she was ready to go home. With her new car and new license, she could play all the 90s strip mall music she wanted. Whenever she drove, Nicholas groaned aloud every time Letters to Cleo came on, but he never touched her radio. And sometimes, she thought she’d caught him humming the hook to her songs in that deep, resonant voice.

The house was warm and after hanging up her purse and coat, she found Nicholas standing over what appeared to be a passable imitation of her curried carrot soup, along with a plate of vegan aquafaba merengues. “Surprise,” he said, watching her face with obvious delight.

“You baked,” she said, unable to keep the shock out of her voice.

His brows slanted down and he folded his arms over the front of his raglan shirt. “You don’t have to sound so shocked.”

“I’m sorry, you’re so progressive, I should have realized you were a feminist king.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes and smacked her sharply on the ass. “Get two wine glasses and tell me how your speech went. Did you remember to eat?” he asked casually.

Jay froze in front of the cupboard just as her stomach let out an incriminating growl. She glanced at him over one shoulder and saw his mouth twitch into that familiar dark smile.

“So, no.”

“I had meetings all day,” she protested.

“So get something delivered.”

“I can’t do that, that’s so embarrassing. I feel bad.”

“So tip them.” He caught her by the chin and kissed her hard, taking the glasses out of her hands and setting them on the counter. Her heart gave a little skip of anticipation when he flicked the citrine stone against her throat before gripping it in his fingers. “You bad girl. Now I have to think up a punishment for you.”

“Why?”

“You need to eat,” he said, and when he tugged on the chain, she shivered. “It’s the third time this week you’ve forgotten. I can’t have my beautiful little bird wasting away to nothing while she flutters up the corporate ladder.”

“Daddy,” she said. “No. Please.”

“The more you beg, the worse it’s going to be.”

Jay heard herself make a rather shameless sound that did not sound particularly concerned with consequences, worse or otherwise.

He laughed darkly. “Is the thought of a little punishment turning you on? I’ll make it extra fun for you then. You can choose how and when.”

The scent of the baked merengue filled her lungs when she breathed in, and she thought dizzily how strange it was, to taste such lingering sweetness while listening to his threats. “H-how?”

“Option one—you go out to dinner at Accia with me in that slutty little dress you hate, with nothing on underneath.”

“Oh my god,” Jay choked, scandalized—but not as much as she wanted to be.

“Option two—you let me buy you a proper gift, no spending limit. And charity doesn’t count.”

She glared at him.

“Option three,” he continued, with a glint in his eyes. “You let me fuck you in the ass.”

“Nicholas!” Her jaw dropped. “Oh my god.”

“I wasn’t planning on going in dry,” he said, which made heat flood her face as she made another incredulous sound. “But if you don’t want an assful of cock, you can always let me dress you like a slutty princess.”

“I thought you said you weren’t a sadist.”

“Bratty Jay brings out the worst in me.” He kissed her nose, grinning when she wrinkled it. “Stop stalling and tell me how you want to be punished.”

“The third thing,” she said defiantly.

“Are you sure you aren’t frightened of Daddy’s big cock? You went pale.”

He looked so smug and pleased with himself that a little flicker of rebellion made her say, “Shut up, Nick.”

His face got that forbidding look then—the one that she secretly loved, though wild horses couldn’t have dragged that from her, even though she suspected that part of him knew and reveled in it—and when he tugged on her necklace, the sound that came out of her was high and needy.

He pushed his fingers against her lips and she parted them, closing her eyes as he dragged them over her tongue.

“Eyes open.”

Jay cracked open her eyes just in time to see him grip her by her blouse and haul her partially over the counter. She yelped, her fingers sliding for purchase against the slippery surface as he yanked her skirt up, baring her ass to the air.

“Nick!” she cried out, but it broke into a soft moan when his fingers spread her open.

Nicholas ran his hand over her backside before delivering a stinging crack that had her bucking. He pressed down on her clit, which sweetened the sharp pressure and discomfort of him thrusting the finger of his other hand inside her ass, causing her to clench up in surprise.

“I see why you chose this,” he said, his tone almost conversational as she began to pant. With every thrust, the slackening release, paired with the smooth glide of his thumb over her clit, made her knees feel watery and weak. “I can picture it now—you, bent over and struggling to take every inch of my cock in your disrespectful little ass just to fucking spite me.”

“Nicholas,” she gasped, clawing at the counter. “Please. I can’t hold on.”

“Don’t worry. Daddy’s going to take good care of his pretty slut. You might even be able to still sit down when I’m finished playing with you.”

Jay came hard, falling against the counter with the granite at her cheek, and felt a throbbing ache of relief as he slid his finger out of her and unzipped his jeans. There was a crinkling sound, a hoarse vocalization, and then he was inside of her aching cunt, pushing so deeply that the intensity of it made her cry out a little.

Pinned against the counter the way she was, the stove was in her periphery. She could see steam coming off of it, and a smell that suggested that some of the spices and vegetables on the bottom were starting to get burnt.

“I think . . . you should stir that.”

“Oh, fuck.” His breath puffed against her neck. “Dinner.”

“Sounds like you should get punished,” Jay said effortfully.

“If you think you can manage to hold me down long enough, you’re welcome to try.” His hand stilled over her hip, holding her in place as he finished, his breathing becoming unstable. “But Daddy always wins.”

Jay groaned. “Why should I get punished for your mistake?”

“Because I didn’t make you forget your lunch.” With a final shudder, he straightened, giving her ass another possessive slap before tossing the condom in the trash and washing his hands. As he walked to the stove, he shook out his arms, and gave his shoulders a little flex. “Come here, my starving bird. I used your recipe so it should be at least as good as yours.”

“Well, aren’t you confident for someone who never started cooking until this year,” she said, still a little short of breath.

“Why don’t you taste it first, before you light into me.”

Jay rolled her skirt down and limped over, defiantly picking up the bowl he handed her. As she breathed in the warm aroma of the spices, she felt an unexpected but thrilling wave of affection at the thought of him measuring out all the herbs, stirring until the consistency was exactly right.

A little more eager now, she tasted a spoonful. “Did you add sugar to this?”

“And cinnamon. I thought it would be better, if it was sweeter.”

“I am not going to stand here and listen to my perfectly fine soup get slandered by a sugar fiend who eats marshmallow fluff out of the jar.”

Nicholas flicked her nose. “But it’s good, isn’t it? You like it.”

“I do like it. And I love you,” she said impulsively, looking up at him.

His mouth curled into a smile and he reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I love you, too, blue jay.”