Chapter 8 008
Rhea's POV
I tossed and turned in that massive bed, the silky sheets twisting around my legs like they were trying to trap me in my own thoughts.
Sleep should have been an escape from the nightmare of the day, but it was damn near impossible.
Mom's words echoed rent-free in my head like a broken record scratching at my soul.
It hurt more than I wanted to admit, a deep, aching wound that made my chest tighten.
I groaned, finally giving up and sitting up, the room's rosy scent now feeling more cloying than comforting.
Owen. That creep was a powerful figure with money and connections in high places, the kind of guy who could make problems disappear... or people.
If he could corner me in a crowded bar, slur those disgusting words while his fingers crawled up my arm, what would stop him now that he was "humiliated"?
I thought of Brenda. Before her wedding, she'd practically sing his name, her eyes bright with that "perfect" love. But after they said their vows, the music stopped.
I remembered the cracks in the facade; the way she'd visit for our sisters' nights and go deathly quiet the second his name was mentioned.
There were subtle flinches when a door slammed, and "accidental" bruises. She'd laugh my questions off with stories about clumsy falls that never quite added up.
The world said she committed suicide. The autopsy even put a stamp on it. But Brenda lived for the spotlight; she was the sun in every room she walked into. She loved being alive too much to just... leave.
She had everything. Or did she? Looking back, the "perfect life" I'd envied was starting to look like a beautifully gilded cage.
Not long after she was gone, Owen's grief didn't turn to mourning, it turned to a hunt.
He wanted a "replacement," a way to maintain the semblance of her presence without the actual person. I became the target of that obsession.
It was creepy back then; now, with his hands on me and his eyes dark with obsession, it felt sinister.
Something fishy lurked beneath the surface I'd never bothered to probe, and the more I thought about it, the more scary it was.
And now, with his promise of vengeance hanging over me, my life felt like it was teetering on a knife's edge. One wrong move, and I'd be sliced wide open.
But who? There's only one person who could protect me, and it was him. Alejandro.
How the hell would I even ask?
"Hey, ex who shattered my heart, mind protecting me from my psycho brother-in-law? Oh, and by the way, he wants me as a stand-in for my dead sister because you punched him."
Hell no. Anyone but him.
Maybe the police. Yeah, that made sense. It was the sensible, adult thing to do.
The idea offered a sliver of relief, like a cool breeze cutting through a stuffy room.
I sank back into the pillows, willing for sleep to come when my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
On a normal night, I'd ignore it, roll over, and deal tomorrow. But nothing was normal anymore.
My life was at risk; I had to stay on guard.
I snatched it up with a thumping heart. It was an unknown number, and the preview text made my blood run cold.
It was a video message.
I tapped play, and there he was—Owen, in some dimly lit room, pants around his ankles, stroking himself with a feverish grip. His moans filled the speaker:
"Rhea... oh, fuck, Rhea..." My stomach lurched. When he finished, spurting with a groan, he looked straight at the camera, eyes gleaming with that wicked, unhinged glint.
"That's how I want you, Rhea. On your knees, stroking my cock until I forget the world. Milking me dry." He wiped himself off casually, like it was nothing.
"And when you're done? I'll punish you for running off with that prick tonight. Make you beg for mercy."
He angled the phone to show his face better.
There was a bruise blooming purple around his eye, courtesy of Alejandro's fist.
"This? This is because of your stubbornness. You and your lover boy will pay for it. Sleep tight."
Horror clawed up my throat. I hurled the phone across the room like it was on fire, and watched it clatter against the wall and skid under the vanity.
Owen wasn't just creepy, he was a full-blown psychopath.
Twisted, obsessive, capable of God knows what. A restraining order wouldn't stop him; it would only give him a target to aim at.
Panic surged, propelling me out of bed. I dashed from the room, barefoot and frantic, the silk nightgown dancing against my legs as I navigated the dark hallway.
Owen's video replayed in my head: the sounds, the threats, that evil smile.
Door after door, I knocked desperately, whispering, "Alejandro? Alejandro?" until the last one. I heard a shuffling sound behind it—yes, this was it.
The door swung open, and there he stood, scowling, bare-chested with a towel slung low around his hips, water droplets tracing lazy paths down his toned torso.
Steam wafted from what must be an en-suite bathroom behind him.
I gulped, my eyes betraying me as they roamed his broad shoulders, down to the defined ridges of his abs, and the V-line disappearing under the towel.
For a split second, the terror of Owen vanished, replaced by the crushing weight of the past.
Memories I'd tried to burn came flooding back in a feverish rush: nights tangled in sweat-dampened sheets, my fingers tracing the same hard lines of his skin, and the way his body used to press into mine with an urgency that made the rest of the world go quiet.
God, I was pathetic. Even now, with my life falling apart, my body remembered him.
I wanted to reach out and touch the damp heat of his shoulder. I wanted to sink into him and let his familiar weight anchor me against the storm.
He folded his arms, muscles flexing in a way that made it impossible to look away, veins standing out like cords under his skin.
"Rhea, giving you a place to crash doesn't mean you get free rein to invade my space. I'm still your boss."
His deep, vibrating voice snapped the spell.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I sobbed, the dam finally breaking. "I... I wanted your help. He's after me, Alejandro. He's... your life, he said..."
I was babbling, the words coming out in a jagged, incoherent mess.
"Rhea," he said firmly, impatience edging his tone, and that was it—I broke, sobs wracking my body as the dam burst.
I sank toward the floor, but he caught my wrist and pulled me into his room.
The room was massive and masculine, all dark wood furniture: a king bed with rumpled sheets, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the grounds. It smelled unmistakably of him.
He guided me to the edge of the bed, and sat me down before disappearing into a walk-in closet.
I perched there, crying silently, wiping my face with the back of my hand.
He returned moments later, dressed in gray sweatpants and a black tank top that hugged his frame, highlighting every line of muscle.
"So, what's this about?" he asked, standing over me with arms crossed again.
"Owen," I mumbled, sniffling. "He's after me, Ale... I mean, sir. And you too."
Silence stretched, then he chuckled, like the threat was a joke.
"What makes you think he can get to me?" he challenged, arrogance dripping from every word.
His arrogance sparked a flame of rage in my chest. It wasn't just about him; my life was on the line too.
"What about me, Sir? You jumped in to save me without thinking about the consequences! Fine, he can't hit you, but my life is in danger now. You should have just let him take me!"
His eyes flashed with a lethal heat. He stepped forward, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look up at him.
"Do you have any idea what he was going to do to you in that car?" he grunted.
I laughed, a bitter, broken sound.
"It's better than the plans he just sent to my phone." I jerked my head away. "Besides, it's not your responsibility to be my hero. You made that clear."
Our heartbeats thundered in the silence, loud and synced, his burning gaze scorching my skin.
"What did he send to you, Rhea?"
I remained mute, regret pooling in my stomach. I shouldn't have come to him.
He was right. He was my boss. My ex. He owed me nothing but a paycheck.
"Forget it," I mumbled, trying to stand. "I shouldn't have bothered you. Goodnight, Sir."
He didn't let me move. He shoved me back down onto the mattress, his hands like vices on my shoulders.
"Rhea," he warned, his voice a low growl.
"What did he send?"
I looked at my lap and told him. Every word. Every sick detail.
Alejandro's POV
Fury boiled in my veins as her words sank in, but I couldn't pinpoint why it hit so hard.
This was the woman who'd gutted me, left me shattered into a thousand pieces five years ago.
Yet here I was, the protective instincts roaring back like no time had passed. Wanting to shield her, hunt down that bastard Owen and make him regret ever looking her way.
Or maybe that was it. I was mad that someone else was trying to steal my vengeance.
If she became immune to my wrath because she was too busy being terrified of him, my plan would fail.
"And what do you want me to do about it, Rhea?" I asked calmly.
She blinked, shocked, like she hadn't expected me to offer. Little did she know, I had my reasons.
"Wh... what?" she stammered.
"You heard me loud and clear. You came to me because you think I can save you, correct?"
She just stared, those hazel eyes wide and vulnerable.
"So I'll give you what you want. All you have to do is say the words." I leaned in closer, watching her reaction up close.
She was still affected by me, my darling jewel unchanged. It was all there: in her eyes, her body language, the way her cheeks reddened like they used to.
But I had to remember—this "innocent" Rhea was the same one who'd betrayed me. And wait... Owen? The same guy she'd supposedly cheated with back then? None of this added up.
What game was she playing now?
"Please save me. Save me, Jandro," she begged, her voice breaking.
Jandro. Hearing that nickname after so long sent a jolt through me, stirring feelings I'd buried deep. And damn, if I didn't miss it; the way it rolled off her lips, the intimacy we'd lost.
But I shoved it down. This is business now. My revenge.
Then I looked at her. Really looked at her.
She was trembling, her eyes wide and swimming with tears. She looked exactly like the girl I used to hold—the "jewel" I thought was mine.
"Let's continue from where we left off three years ago. Marry me, Rhea."