What He Promises Read online

  “I care.”

  He grinned. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I suppose you do. You care enough to be here. How did you get away from Cutler?”

  I tried not to show any reaction, but he picked up on it anyway.

  “Noah doesn’t know you’re here?” He laughed and laughed, so hard he doubled over in his chair. “That is wonderful. You saucy little minx, you.”

  “Where. Is. She.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Why would I lie about something like that? I have no idea what they’ve done with her. According to my sources, Force has been shut down. The girls have been taken away.”

  “To where?”

  He leaned forward again, his eyes boring into mine as he teeth worked at his bottom lip. “You’re a very special woman, Charlotte. You came all this way, and yet all you want to talk about is Mikayla.”

  “What else would I want to talk about?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I just assumed that when you came to see me you’d have all kind of questions, all kinds of queries about why I did what I did.”

  My stomach clenched and I gripped the bottom of my chair to keep from screaming. I did have questions for him. I did want to know more about why he did what he did. But I also didn’t want him to think he knew me.

  “Noah already told me,” I said.

  “Noah doesn’t know.”

  “He said it was because of a case.”

  “And you believed him?”

  “It’s not the truth?”

  “No, it is.” He reached his hand up and began gently pulling up the bottom of the tape that held the gauze over his eye. Once it had been separated from his skin, he began to rub the skin underneath it slowly. “You’ll have to forgive me for being so crass,” he said. “It’s just that losing one’s eye can be a rather itchy business, especially as it heals.”

  I caught a glimpse of flesh underneath, puckered and raw. But I forced myself not to look away. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under my skin, that he’d had any effect on me whatsoever.

  “So if it’s the truth, if you did this to Noah because of a case, then what else would I need to know?” I pressed.

  “Charlotte,” Professor Worthington said, sighing. “You know that any normal person wouldn’t kill and torture women just because of losing a court case.”

  “So you’re saying there’s something wrong with you psychologically?”

  “Ding ding ding!” Professor Worthington said, delighted.

  “So what is it?”

  “You think I’m just going to tell you that?” He shook his head. “You are my student, Charlotte. And I will teach you. But you will need to do some of the work yourself.”

  I shook my head. I’d allowed myself to get caught up in his vortex of craziness. I’d come here to find out about Mikayla, not to get into some crazy conversation with Professor Worthington about his real or imagined psychological problems. It was for doctors and a jury to decide if he was crazy, not me.

  “Where is she?” I demanded.

  “She’s been taken to a safe place.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “She’ll be killed, Charlotte.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. They will kill her. She’ll be put out of her misery.”

  “Where is she?” I yelled.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You just said she was in a safe place!”

  “Charlotte, please, you’re making my head hurt.”

  “Tell me,” I said. “Or I’ll leave.”

  “If you leave, you’ll come back.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “Yes, you will.” The side of his mouth slid up into a knowing grin, and his fingers returned to his eye.

  I turned away in disgust. “Guard,” I said. “I’m done.”

  “I’ll see you soon, my darling,” Professor Worthington said as they led him out of the room. “I love you so much.”

  He blew me a kiss.

  I shook my head and blinked back tears of frustration.

  Noah had been right, as always.

  I should never have come here.

  ***

  But my frustration was short-lived. By the time I got outside of the jail, I was already thinking of ways I could get Professor Worthington to talk, was already planning on calling the police station and following up on the report I’d given them, telling them everything I could about Mikayla and what I knew about those other girls at Force.

  My mind was racing so fast and so hard that at first I didn’t see him.

  Noah.

  Standing outside the prison, leaning against his car. He was dressed in a pair of dark jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. Docket was with him, attached to a candy apple red leash, sitting primly next to Noah like he was some kind of show dog and not a mutt with a propensity for bird chasing. The two of them looked like they’d stepped out of a magazine ad.

  “Hi,” I said, resisting the urge to run to him, to bury my head in his chest until he wrapped his arms around me.

  “Hi.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Well,” Noah said, sighing and shaking his head. “Docket wanted to go for a walk.”

  “He did, huh?”

  “Yes. And he would not take no for an answer.”

  “If he wanted to go for a walk, then why do you have your car?”

  Noah shrugged. “He wanted to pick you up first.” He reached out and touched my cheek, his eyes searching mine.

  “How did you know I was here?” I asked softly.

  He tilted his head. “Really, Charlotte?” He shook his head. “You were going to come here from the second he sent you that first letter.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Shall we walk?”

  I nodded, falling into step beside him. Docket was use to being on his leash, and he pranced along beside us.

  We walked.

  And walked.

  And walked.

  We walked so far that before I knew it, we were in Times Square. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, and the huge billboards the lined the street and rose high into the sky blinked and buzzed, their light becoming more intense as the sky around them began to darken.

  “We should sit,” Noah said. “Docket needs a break.”

  The street in the middle of Times Square was cordoned off, with wrought iron tables and chairs set up for people to sit and enjoy the view. But Noah bypassed all of those, weaving through the tourists and the people dressed up as cartoon characters who you could get your picture taken with for a small donation.

  He led me to the bleachers that rose into the sky in the middle of Times Square, took my hand and led me to the very top.

  We sat down and stared down over the Square, the billboards and stores and lights seemingly larger than life, while the people down below seemed so small.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the letters, Charlotte?” Noah asked, finally, staring straight ahead, his jaw set in a determined line. Even now, with everything we’d been through, with the fight we’d just had and the visit to see Professor Worthington, I couldn’t help but admire his profile, the strong lines of his face, the curve of his jaw, the fullness of his lips.

  “I wanted to,” I said, swallowing. It would have been easy to tell Noah a half-truth -- that I figured if he knew about the letters he would have forbid me from seeing Professor Worthington. But that wasn’t all of it. And if this was ever going to work, I needed to be honest. “But I guess… I guess I was afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of upsetting you, of you shutting down right when you were about to let me in.”

  “I need to keep you safe, Charlotte.”

  “I know, but you… you can’t always keep me safe, Noah, it doesn’t… it’s impossible.”

  He pulled me toward him, sliding me across the long bench we we
re sitting on, and I slipped my hands inside his jacket and around to his back, feeling the striations of his muscles through his thin t-shirt.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled his scent. I loved him so much. I wanted to spend my life with him, to be with him forever.

  “If this is going to work, we have to be able to talk about things,” I said.

  “I’m trying.”

  “I know you are.” I swallowed. There was one more thing that was bothering me, one more thing that tugged at the back of my mind. “Noah, what about Clementine?”

  “What about her?”

  “I saw her.”

  “Yes, earlier, at my office. I told you, Charlotte, that was – ”

  “No,” I said, cutting him off. “I saw her the night she came to your apartment. You were out on the terrace, and she…she handed you a green scarf.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, to ask me why I was spying on him, to tell me it was none of my business. But then he changed his mind, his face softening.

  “That scarf was my mother’s,” he said. “It reminded me of her, of my childhood, as fucked up as it was. Audi had it, and Clementine was able to get it from him.”

  “Is she still following Audi?”

  “Yes.”

  I nodded. Of course she was. Noah wanted to make sure Audi wouldn’t do anything else, that he wouldn’t hurt anyone again. Noah needed to keep tabs on him. And he trusted Clementine to do it. Which meant she would always be a part of his life, at least in some capacity.

  “Charlotte,” Noah said, gently pulling back so he could look me in the eye. “You know that I love you. Not Clementine.”

  “Even though I didn’t tell you about those letters?” I looked away.

  “Look at me.”

  I looked at him, at this beautiful man that I loved more than anything. “I love you more because of it.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “Because you are who you are,” he said. “You are fearless and you have a strong sense of right and wrong. That is what makes you an amazing woman, and that is what will make you an amazing lawyer.”

  My eyes welled up with tears, hearing him say those wonderful things about me.

  “You are everything I have ever wanted, everything I could have ever dreamed of having.” He stroked my cheek. “We are always going to have challenges, problems. We’re lawyers. And we’re fucked up. It comes with the territory.”

  I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against his as his lips brushed against mine.

  He pulled away, and when I opened my eyes, he was down on one knee on the bleachers in front of me.

  “Charlotte,” he said, taking my hand in his. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box, then opened the top.

  I gasped. Nestled inside was the most beautiful diamond engagement ring I had ever seen. Set in white gold, it must have been at least five carats, with tiny diamonds flanking the sides. Despite its size, it somehow managed to be elegant and understated. It sparkled under the lights of Times Square, taking my breath away.

  “I cannot imagine spending my life with anyone else,” Noah said. “You have taught me about understanding, about trust, about what real true love looks like.”

  I choked up at his words, at the way he was looking at me. I was dimly aware that we were in the middle of Manhattan, that there was a crowd of people around us that were starting to stare. But a second later they all faded away, and in that moment there was just the two of us.

  “Charlotte,” Noah said. “Will you marry me?”

  Everything stopped.

  All that existed was him, kneeling in front of me, asking for my hand in marriage.

  “Yes,” I cried. “Yes, Noah, yes!”

  He slid the ring onto my finger and rose to his feet and his arms were around me and he was kissing my lips.

  I was aware of people clapping and staring at us, and then suddenly, the rain came. Slow at first, huge, big drops that plopped onto our skin.

  Noah laughed as the water hit our faces, and Docket barked at our feet, excited.

  “Well played, Mr. Cutler,” I said.

  He grinned. “What, now I control the weather?”

  “Why not? You want to control everything else.”

  “Come on,” he said, squeezing my hand. “I want to show you something.”

  ***

  We dropped Docket off at Noah’s (our?) apartment, then stepped back out into the rain, holding hands as we walked through the city, back toward midtown.

  The rain was still coming down, although it had stopped and was now more of a drizzle. The lights of the city blurred through it, the bright colors bleeding together into a beautiful, shiny rainbow.

  Noah took me back to the new office space he’d shown me a couple weeks ago, the space that was to become our offices.

  “We can change anything you want,” he said as the elevator doors opened onto our floor.

  Once they did, I gasped.

  What had once been a completely empty space had now been transformed into a law office. A modern curved reception desk sat in front of us, cubicles dotted the room, and the dark hardwood floors had been polished and shined.

  There were beautiful brushed nickel letters hanging on the floating wall behind the reception desk that must have been at least two feet tall. They spelled out CUTLER AND CUTLER.

  My breath caught in my chest.

  Cutler and Cutler.

  That would be my new name, once we were married.

  Charlotte Cutler.

  “Do you like it?” Noah asked, and I looked at him, seeing on his face how much he wanted me to approve of what he’d done, how much he wanted me to love our new space.

  “I love it,” I breathed. I walked behind the desk, ran my fingers over the letters. Cutler and Cutler. My brand new engagement ring sparkled on my finger, and I turned to look at him. “How did you know I was going to say yes?” I teased.

  He grinned. “Call it a hunch. Come on, I’ll show you your office.”

  I followed him down the hall, to a door that had my name on it.

  Charlotte Holloway, it said.

  “We’ll change it to Cutler as soon as we’re married,” he said.

  I smiled as he opened the door.

  The office was gorgeous, with clean lines, sweeping views, and modern fixtures. It had been decorated in tones of navy and soft lavender, with accents of white, giving it a feminine look while also conveying an air of sophistication and professionalism.

  Circular lights were attached to the ceiling, and a creamy white leather sectional couch was against one wall. There were floor to ceiling bookshelves stuffed with law books, and in the corner stood a tall plant with tiny white flowers.

  “When you graduate, we’ll hang your diploma here,” Noah explained, pointing to a space on the wall. Then he gestured to a door off the room. “And you have your own private bathroom.”

  I walked over to the door and turned the knob. “Wow,” I said, walking inside. “It’s beautiful.” There was a shower for long nights at the office, a brand new toilet, and plenty of storage space. A stack of luxurious-looking navy hand towels set on the counter next to the sink. Everything was brand new and shiny and perfect. “I can’t believe you did all this so quickly.”

  I wanted to ask him if Clementine had helped him, but something about the thought of her picking out my office décor was too upsetting.

  As if he could read my thoughts, Noah tipped my chin up and forced me to look at him. “I had an amazing decorator,” he said. “He works at one of the top firms in the city. But if you don’t like any of it, if you want anything changed –”

  “No,” I said, shutting off the light and stepping out of the bathroom. “No, it’s perfect.”

  As the door shut behind me, I noticed a second door next to it.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  Noah hesitated.

  “Noah?”

  He reached into his pocket and pulle
d out a key card, slid it into the holder by the door. It beeped and the tiny light on the keypad turned green.

  “Go on,” he said, gesturing for me to enter.

  I turned the doorknob and walked in.

  When I did, I gasped.

  It was a BDSM dungeon.

  Well. Dungeon was a bit of an exaggeration.

  The space was too exquisite to ever be called a dungeon.

  It was dimly lit with soft lights from the ceiling, the floors cherry hardwood, the walls red exposed brick. In the middle of the room was a bed with a black leather headboard and a shiny red comforter. There was a spanking bench and a rack filled with whips and floggers and all kinds of other things I didn’t recognize.

  “Is that…is that a spreader bar?” I asked, taking a closer look.

  “Yes.” Noah followed me into the room, watching my reaction carefully.

  I walked around, taking my time to inspect all of it, peeking into a box in the corner, shutting it quickly when I saw the assortment of butt plugs and vibrators of varying colors and sizes that were laid out inside of it.

  “Say something,” he said.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I mean, I just…”

  “We don’t have to use any of this,” he said, taking my hand in his. “I mean, if you’re not ready, or you can’t…” His eyes were filled with concern, and I knew what he was saying – that if what Professor Worthington had done to me was too much of a trigger, if the memories of Force, of that night, were too much for me, he would be okay with never dominating me again.

  But I also knew it wasn’t completely true.

  He had a need to control, to dominate, to make me submit.

  And I wanted to give him all of me, wanted him to take my body and use it for his pleasure, wanted him to order me and punish me.

  I wanted to please him.

  “I don’t know how I feel about you putting a sex room in our office,” I teased.

  “Well,” he said. “Technically, I will be your boss.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  He moved closer to me, his hands wrapping around my waist, pushing his body into mine. “It means there will be consequences.”