Page 53 of No Longer Mine (Rags & Riches #2)

Chapter Forty-Five

Dimitri

Vance dropped me off at the corner. I trusted the guy fine, but I didn’t trust anyone else.

I didn’t want anyone knowing I was seeing Scarlett more than once—especially my father.

Don had left my bag of clothes with Vance earlier in the morning, so I would have a change of clothes when I got to the office.

But when I got to the office to change, I realized he’d packed a lot more than one suit.

There were three suits in a dry bag and a week’s worth of underwear, socks, and sweats in my gym bag.

I frowned at the bag, shaking my head. Don was either trying to make a point or he knew something I didn’t.

A whole week’s worth of clothes?

I ran a hand down my face, exhaling slowly. It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about staying longer. I’d barely made it through the day without checking my phone a hundred times, waiting for a message from Don or Vance to tell me something had gone wrong.

Scarlett wasn’t defenseless, but she was injured. And knowing her, she’d push herself too hard, too fast.

That’s what really had me turning the corner toward her building instead of heading home. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t stay the night. That I’d check in, make sure she wasn’t bleeding out, and then leave.

I wasn’t going to stay a week, but another night didn’t hurt. I had another suit, and Don could bring me to the office in the morning. At least that was what I told myself.

When I pushed open Scarlett’s door, she was reclining on one side of the couch, with Don on the other. They were laughing about something I’d missed. A chessboard sat between them. My brows raised.

I leaned against the doorway, crossing my arms. “Should I be concerned that my bodyguard is bonding with my…” I hesitated, searching for the right word.

What was she? A thief? A problem? A woman who had been taking up too much space in my head and now, my life?

Scarlett turned her head lazily, eyes heavy-lidded from exhaustion but sharp as ever. “Your what, exactly?” she challenged, a slow smirk curling her lips.

Don didn’t even look up as he moved his knight across the board. “Your girl is ruthless.”

My eyes flicked between them. Your girl. The words lodged somewhere in my throat.

“She beat you?”

Don finally met my gaze, looking the most impressed I’d ever seen him. “Twice.”

Scarlett yawned, stretching carefully so she didn’t pull at her stitches. “Three times, actually. But who’s counting?”

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head as I stepped farther into the room. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or concerned.”

She tilted her head, looking at me through thick lashes. “That’s what makes it fun, isn’t it?”

“You need to rest.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s been barely half a day.”

I ignored her and looked at Don. “Has she eaten anything?”

“Don made me a salad with blackened chicken,” she quipped.

I mocked being offended with my hand over my chest. “You’ve never cooked for me before, Don. I’m offended.”

“She’s smarter than you, so therefore she gets to experience my cooking abilities.”

A look passed over Scarlett’s face, and I wondered what it meant. What had they discussed while I was away? What had they bonded over besides chess? Had they trauma-dumped?

“Alright, Don, I think I can take it from here.”

Don stood from the couch. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

You’d better continue to sharpen your skills.

” He winked at her, and I felt something tug within my chest. She grinned up at him, as he was her lifeline and I really, really wanted to know what they’d talked about.

She didn’t look up at me like that. Would she ever?

“Aye, aye, captain.” She saluted him, and there was that tugging in my chest again. I rubbed my sternum thinking it would help, but it only seemed to make it worse. Don grabbed his newspaper off of the table and disappeared out the front door.

“My brother found a wig you left in the stairwell trashcan at the neighboring apartment building.”

She let out a breath. “Did he get rid of it?”

I nodded. “You’re lucky he’s on our side right now.”

“Right now?” She asked.

“Long story.”

She nodded, and we sat there, staring at each other until she broke the silence. “What do you know about Vanewood?”

Surprise flickered through me at the question.

I’d expected her to bolt, to run any time the place was mentioned, but here she was asking head-on with no hesitation.

She swallowed and looked down at her lap.

She was still wearing a sweatshirt and shorts I’d helped dress her in that morning before Don got here. “What do you know about me?”

“Are you sure you’re ready to have this conversation?” I leaned forward and braced my elbows on my knees as I watched her.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and worried her lip between her teeth. “No, I’m never ready to have this conversation, but no one has ever gotten as close to the truth as you have, and I need to know what you know about… me.”

What I really wanted to know was what was going on with the flash drives and the notebook I’d put in her library. She hadn’t even asked about them. But that would come later.

“I didn’t know anything besides the mysterious death of the owners and that you attended there. I didn’t even know that until I found the picture.”

Scarlett let out a slow breath, like she was bracing herself for something. Her fingers traced over the edge of the blanket draped across her lap, eyes flickering toward the chessboard as if gathering her thoughts.

“I know what they said about Vanewood,” I continued.

“That it was an elite home for gifted orphans, the best of the best. But when I went there, the place was a goddamn graveyard. I don’t know what he was doing there, and I don’t know why, but I do know that they hurt you.

If they were still alive today, I would go murder them myself.

I would torture them. I would cut off every single appendage and make them beg for mercy, but I would never give it. ”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

I let the words settle, watching the way her fingers tightened around the blanket. Her eyes—normally so sharp and calculating—looked distant. Haunted.

My stomach twisted as I thought of the gouges taken out of the bed frame and the words she’d said to me in anger after our date.

“I killed them.” Her words were barely a whisper, if I hadn’t been waiting for them, I would have missed it altogether.

The air in the room shifted. Heavy. Charged. I stared at her, my pulse thudding in my ears. “You?—”

I’d spilled my fair share of blood, I’d killed and tortured for my father since I was young. A teenager. He saw a skill and exploited it. Scarlett? She was nothing but an innocent girl who should have never been put in the position to have to do that.

“Yes,” her voice was steadier now. “It haunts me. They haunt me. I thought they were long gone in my past, but sometimes their ghosts sneak up on me. Are you going to arrest me? Is this a part of your overturned crusader leaf? Is this a part of your campaign, solving cold cases?”

I shook my head. “I wasn’t trying to solve cold cases. I just wanted to solve you.”

The air charged between us as I laid it all out. I didn’t care that she’d killed them; in fact, I was relieved.

“Tell me how.” I didn’t know why it was important, but I needed to know. I needed to know who she was to help me understand who she became. Maybe then I could get her out from under my skin.

She’s stuck there. A voice whispered in the back of my mind.

“I came from nothing,” She scrunched her nose.

“When my parents died, there was nothing for me. I was in the foster care system, bouncing around, thinking that my life was horrible. I didn’t know pain or horror until the day Mr. Vanewood set his sights on me.

He was listening to another kid, Sam, play the violin at our foster home when his eyes seemed to zero in on me.

My foster mother at the time said I had nothing to offer him in exchange for his guidance and hospitality.

Sam on the other hand, had an entire fortune waiting for her for when she aged out—we didn’t even know it.

That’s what Vanewood was after. He would find these talented, rich kids stuck in the system, then he would exploit them.

When they turned eighteen, the bill would be their inheritance.

Most of them didn’t even know they would be losing it. ”

A cold, seething rage coiled in my chest. My fingers curled into fists against my thighs, nails biting into my palms. “And you?” My voice was low, dangerous. “If you weren’t sitting on a fortune, why did he take you?”

Scarlett let out a hollow laugh. “Because I looked the part,” she said bitterly.

“Because I was just another pretty, lost little girl with no one to fight for her. He thought I was pliable. Thought I was desperate enough to do whatever it took to survive.” Her voice sharpened like a blade. “He was right.”

I stayed silent, letting her speak. Letting her give me this piece of herself that no one else had. I hoped it was letting her heal.

“He took me and Sam together,” she continued, her fingers gripping the blanket so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“At first, it seemed like some golden opportunity. We were placed in this sprawling estate, given access to all these private tutors, all these lessons. We were supposed to be grateful.” Her lip curled.

“But we weren’t students. We were investments. And he wanted a return.”

I forced my jaw to unclench. “And the son?”