Surrender to Me (31 page)

Roberto looks at me, the newspaper strewn over the steering wheel.

“Miss?” he asks confused.

I halt all questions with my palm facing him.

“Take me to Harper. Now!”

Chapter 26

Love Hurts

I
have given
Roberto strict orders to step on it.

I shouldn't find it ironic that I am blessing the Gods for Harper’s
choice in this speed machine, because everything about this whole situation is
ironic. It’s ironic that I am actually happy to be in this car, driving like a
bat of hell down the freeway. It’s ironic that I am actually happy to be four
blocks away from The Four Seasons, the place I usually avoided like the plague.
And it’s ironic that I am actually happy to find Harper so I can slap his
lying, deceitful face!

How could Harper lie to me? This whole time he made me believe that
Jasper had written me that awful note. I gasp, because that would mean he knew
Jasper existed all along. But how did he know, and how did he forge his writing
so well? I need answers and I need them now.

Running into The Four Seasons even before Roberto has put the car in
park, I charge through the front revolving doors, and rip off my shoes as they
are slowing me down.

“Miss? Miss?” I vaguely hear the desk staff call after me as I tear
through the fancy foyer with no intention of stopping.

Unable to use the lift without a swipe card, I’ll be damned if that
stops me as I yank open the door to the stairwell, and fly up them, two at a
time.

My lungs are burning and I have a stitch, but I don't stop till I
get to the sixteenth floor, which is where I want to be. I don't know how long
I've got until Jasper is bursting down the door. But before that happens, I
need to find out what the fuck is going on, because I have a feeling, not a
great deal of talking will be happening when the wrath of Jasper rolls in.

I run down the red carpeted hallway to the room that offered me no
comfort while I was here. My bare feet are slapping loudly on the floor, and as
I approach the room, puffing frantically, I stop dead in my tracks.  The door
is wide open, like Harper is expecting me, so I storm through, and don’t need
to look too far to find the devil.

Harper is leaning against the desk with his ankles crossed, loosely
holding a brandy glass. The look in his evil blue eyes sends a shiver down my
spine.

“I was expecting you,” he says smugly, taking a swig of his drink.

“How could you!” I spit, storming over to him, my fists clenched by
my sides.

He looks so calm and has the nerve to smile self-righteously, before
addressing me. “How could I what? I gave you everything you ungrateful whore.”

Whoa, what? His words feel like a slap.

“What?” I ask stunned.

“Oh Ava,” he tsks. “Have you not worked it out yet? Although it
doesn’t surprise me. You were never that bright.”

I stare astonished and speechless because yes, Harper is a lying
asshole, but now he is being down right cruel with his name calling.

Harper continues casually. “You are pathetic. Your ideals and
notions on love are really ridiculous. Oh your little speech tonight was quite
humorous... ‘You'll find a girl who will treat you right, and love all the
ridiculously expensive gifts you spoil her with,’” he says, mocking me in a
voice which I am assuming is meant to sound like me.

Not believing what I’m hearing, my mouth drops open and I start
shaking uncontrollably, because I know the worst is yet to come.

Jasper’s words replay in mind and I sneer, “You played me.”

“Ding ding ding!” Harper yells, pushing back off the desk, stalking
towards me.

“I really deserve an Oscar after my performance this evening, and
not to mention the whole break up scenario and my crocodile tears. I can’t
believe you actually fell for it.”

“But you...” I stutter, walking away from him.

“But I what, Ava?” Harper asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Why?” I ask softly.

I need answers and I need them before I throw up on this expensive
cashmere rug.

“Oh, do I really have to spell it out for you?”

I stare at him, non-responsive. I can’t move a muscle, let alone
string together a sentence.

“You Ava, are a mindless twit. I needed someone like you to be the
perfect trophy wife. Be on my arm, look pretty and do exactly as I say. Wear
what I tell you. Eat what I tell you. Behave like I tell you. Fuck like I tell
you,” he sneers licking his top teeth. “Although that last part was not
necessary as I was getting my needs met elsewhere.”

My mouth pops open further, as I am unsure of which part of his
speech has wounded me more.

“Yes darling, all those times I was out on “business,” I was fucking
someone’s brains out. Surely you knew that something was off when you weren’t
fulfilling your role in the bedroom, and I didn’t question you.”

Covering my mouth with both hands in absolute shock, I question, who
is this person standing before me?

“No?” he asks without feeling.

Closing my eyes and shaking my head, I scrunch my eyes tight because
I will not allow myself to cry.

Harper lets out a cold laugh. “Well as they say, all beauty no
brains. I think that describes you perfectly.”

I snap open my eyes as there is something I need to know.

“Even when we were first together? You...cheated on me?” I ask, my
voice a mere whisper.

I need to know if he has always been an asshole, and if I have
always been so blinded by his bullshit.

Harper places his finger against his wicked mouth in contemplation.
“Gee, let me think.”

Oh my God, I feel sick. Clutching my stomach, afraid I am about to
lose what little dinner I ate, I can’t believe I have been so stupid. I wasted
so many tears over this lying son of a bitch, and then I realize I never knew
the real Harper. I got a glimpse of the real Harper, and he was the one who
broke up with me so callously in that karaoke bar.

“Did you ever love me?” I ask.

Harper shrugs. “Not really. What’s to love? You’re a snivelling
romantic with unrealistic views of the world.  I was doing you a favor by
asking you to marry me.”

The room is closing in on me as I ask, “Why did you propose to me? I
don't understand. I mean if you never loved me, why would you want to marry me?
I could have been your puppet without the whole marriage facade. You told your
parents for Christ’s sake!”

I look at Harper and see the real him for the first time. And it’s
an ugly, ugly sight.

“Ava, to get what I want, I have always told my parents what they
want to hear, and marrying you is exactly what they wanted. They stopped my
allowance as soon as I dumped your whiny ass. And I couldn’t be having that. So
I touched base with you by sending that pathetic I miss you email, and I knew
you would fall for it. I needed you back in my life Ava, and my mom wouldn’t
settle for anything less than marriage. Hence, the proposal. My parents get the
perfect boring little daughter in law, who they can brag to their friends
about, and I continue getting my inheritance. Everyone wins,” he says, clapping
his hands together loudly.

Then he curls up his lip and scowls. “But now you've gone and fucked
everything up.”

He is thankfully standing a few feet away from me with his arms
crossed. I don’t want him anywhere near me because I know if he was, I would be
in his face, pulling his hair out and kicking him in the balls.

It’s all starting to make sense now. Harper believed if we looked
happy on the outside, others would believe our sham. He used me. All the times
he was kind to me, it was for his own personal gain. This isn’t just about what
he did with Jasper and forging that note, this is about so much more.

He really is a sociopath!

“You used me,” I say horrified.

“Oh please, no more than you used me,” he scoffs, glaring at me.

I flinch because I know he is referring to accepting his proposal
when I shouldn’t have. 

Harper takes a small step towards me, and I ball up my hands behind
my back, terrified of how close he is.

“We both used each other. But you’re past your expiration date, and
I am sick of looking at your pointy face. Get out.”

How can he be referring to me so cheaply, like something that can be
thrown away? I stand my ground, as I am not going anywhere until I find out how
he knew about Jasper.

Harper notices my stance and chuckles.  “It's a shame really, as you
were shaping out to be the perfect pawn. There was of course, one problem.”

Jasper.

“How did you know he existed?” I ask, hopeful he will continue with
the sharing so I can get the hell away from him.

“Think Ava,” Harper mocks, stepping into my face.

Recoiling, as I want him nowhere near me, I pull away disgusted
because his whiskey scented breath is rancid. No matter how hard I think, I
come up empty. How did he know about Jasper?

“Okay, let me give you a clue,” he says arrogantly, and I hate his
face more than I have ever hated anything in my life.

“Every time you get closer to guessing the right answer, I’ll give
you... an Orchid.”

Orchid? What the fuck is he talking about?

Then it hits me like a ton of bricks, and my world comes crashing
down before me.

It was Jasper, not him.

Jasper was the one who sent me flowers every day for a month, so
that means, Jasper was never mad at me. I gasp when the realization of what
Harper has done really sinks in.

Jasper sent me the only things that made me feel remotely better
when I was dying inside, and now, it all makes sense. Now I know why Harper got
so mad when he gave me the Roses, and I compared them to the purple Hyacinth’s.
He hated that I loved those flowers better than his, because those flowers were
never in fact from him, but from Jasper.

How. Could. He. Do. This. To. Me!

I turn to look at him with a glare that is dripping with venom.

“There you go. She finally gets it,” Harper says sarcastically. “It
was easy forging that lovesick puppy’s handwriting. After the amount of love
letters and cards he sent with those flowers, and in the mail, I had his
writing committed to memory. Those letters continued on for months and months.”

I glower at him. “For months?”

Harper nods, picking some invisible dirt from under his fingernail.
“You would receive one every day, and in the end, it got beyond ridiculous.
Ugh, seriously does the man have no pride? ‘I love you Ava. Please forgive me.
You’re my world. I'm sorry, yadda yadda’. I needed him out of the picture, and
you weren't going along with my plan, so I made things happen. I wrote that
note because you’re that pathetic, I knew you'd accept my proposal.”

“What did you do with his letters?” I ask, desperate to know how he
hid this from me.

Thinking back, I trusted him, and not once did I think he was
capable of such callousness.

“I shredded them at work of course. I had to get rid of the
evidence. I thought it was fitting actually, shredding the only thing that
would make you happy again. Shredding the letters, along with your heart, it
was pure genius.”

He shows no remorse for his actions, and actually looks happy
retelling his devious ploy.

I cover my hand over my mouth because I’m about to throw up, but I
don't give him the satisfaction of seeing any tears, because I am not sad, I am
fucking enraged.

After all this time, after all the tears I shed over Jasper, Harper
stood by knowing that Jasper still loved me. He never stopped.

Jasper sent me flowers every day, trying to make amends, a fact
Harper was well aware of. But he let me cry myself to sleep at night, not
caring that my whole world was crumbling down around me.

And Jasper sent me letters every day, letters I would have
cherished, letters I would have read over and over happily, not like the one I
believed him to write.

Harper knew that that note was never written by Jasper’s hand,
because it was written by him. This person, this asshole, standing in front of
me, has twisted everything, making me believe otherwise.

The fire burning in the pit of my stomach is about to boil over, and
as I recollect everything Harper has just confessed, I can’t contain my anger
any longer, and I fucking explode!

Walking over to him, I slap him so hard, catching him off guard, and
I am elated when I see his stunned expression, as he covers the cheek I just
bitch slapped the hell out of.

“You son of a bitch!” I yell, ready to wage war on the man who has
ruined my life.

I attack him, beating my tiny fists on his chest.

“You sick twisted sack of shit!”

I am pounding harder on his chest, and the feeling is euphoric, but
it sadly doesn’t last long.

He grabs my hands in one of his and squeezes hard. The pressure
hurts, and brings tears to my eyes, but in this moment I am running on pure
adrenaline.