Page 34 of Shattered Queens: Veronica
I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had a chance to visit my parents. I called and asked if I could join them for an early dinner. Dad’s been going through a cooking phase. It all started when Mom complimentedthe chef. The next thing we know, a new chef is hired and Dad’s taking cooking lessons from her. Like Ian, my father is possessive over the woman he loves. They both are shitty with boundaries.
“What’s for dinner?” I ask my parents, but my dad answers.
“Sautéed chicken breast with a melody of vegetables and couscous.”
Good because I’m starving. “I can’t wait; it smells amazing.” I take a drink of my water. And mull over my question. “Mom, Dad, I was wondering if you could help me?”
My dad continues to sauté the vegetables, but I know he’s listening. “What is it? Do you need money? Do you need to move back home? You know I’d prefer you live here.”
Of course he would. “No, nothing of the sort. It’s, well, it’s Cam Villanueva.” My father continues what he’s doing, and my mother doesn’t act surprised.
“What about Cam?” Mom asks.
“Well, what can you tell me about him? I remember him being around when I was younger, then he just disappeared. He stopped coming around.” My curiosity is getting the best of me.
My parents share a look. I know that look. They are deciding whether they should tell me.
“What do you want to know?” Mom’s the one to speak.
“Anything really. He donated a piece of land and wants to be part of the process. I know his family is big on real estate, commercial property to be exact. He doesn’t talk much during our interactions.” Because he’s too busy making it obvious how much I disgust him. I keep the last thing to myself.
“It’s not our place to say anything,” my dad says. “What I can tell you is that your grandfather and his were best friends. My father helped fund his grandfather’s business. They were close until the day my father died.”
My grandfather was a great man, unlike my mother’s father. She’s told me stories over the years, but I’m sure there are more I don’t know, and I’m not sure I want to. I turn to Mom, and it looks like she’s about to tell me something when my dad informs us that dinner is ready.
“Veronica, help me set the table.” Mom motions for me to grab the plates and silverware as she walks into the smaller dining room. I set everything down, and she takes my hand. “I want to tell you how proud I am of everything you are doing.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” My dad walks into the room, carrying the food. “Now, tell us more about these classes you’re attending.”
I catch them up on almost everything, skipping the part about the photographs I received. Looking down at my plate, I realize I was hungrier than I thought. We chat about my dad's failed attempt to play golf with Uncle Isaac, an outing that ended in an argument. Like my dad, my uncle has a hard time letting go of the reins. I glance at my watch, noting I have a class in a couple of hours. So I need to head out.
It has been a couple of weeks since I started the self-defense classes, and now I see why Serena is so capable. Nina, the instructor, is a total beast. She hasn’t gone easy on me; in fact, she pushes me harder every session. I took a beating all evening. My muscles ache from being slammed against the wall and thrown onto the mat. I can’t wait to get home and soak in a hot bath.
Nina is an amazing human being. She is incredibly open about her past and her motivations, yet I’m still not comfortable opening up to her. In the past, I’ve been too trusting, and it always blew up in my face. Since she is observant, I know she notices my hesitation, so we stick to neutral topics. She even offered to set me up with her friend, but I passed for now. I come for the classes, but I stay for the conversation.
I wasn't sure how long I would last today, but I managed to stay longer than in previous sessions. Because I didn’t want to quit, I sent my driver home and opted to go without him for the rest of the day. I have my own apartment and a job, sort of, so I want to rely on him as little as possible. I know I can’t get rid of him completely, not if my family has anything to say about it, but I need this bit of independence. Nina offers to drive me, but I decline. I want to walk; it’s a short distance, and I could use the fresh air.
I haven’t received anything in a couple of weeks, and Miles hasn’t had any updates for me. I tell myself that no news is good news. Taking a deep breath, I try to exhale the bad feelings that start creeping in. I look around and realize the streets are completely empty. Usually, people are out for nightly walks, but tonight it’s eerily quiet.
I check my phone. Shit, it’s later than I thought. I pick up the pace because I need to be up early in the morning. Nina’s Hope community event is tomorrow, so I need everything to go smoothly. I’m a block away from my apartment building, and I can see Will from where I’m standing, waiting to cross the street. He’s facing the opposite direction. I head his way but feel someone walking behind me. They’re walking too close for comfort. It’s as if my body recognizes I'm in danger, telling me to run, and that’s exactly what I do. I’m not a fast runner, so they catch up to me in no time. Without hesitation, they slam their body against my right side. I lose my footing, and the left side of my body slams against the concrete wall of the building, taking all the impact. My head hits the wall, not hard enough for me to lose consciousness, but the impact is still painful enough for me to cry out. I force my legs to stand, and I try to run. A large hand grabs my arm and yanks me back. I scream, trying to pull away from their hold. I see he’s wearing a black ski mask. I manage to kick him in his shin, but he doesn’t let go.
“You fucking bitch,” he yells.
I scream at the top of my lungs. “Help.”
I hear voices, but I can’t make out where they’re coming from. Whoever this is lets go of my arm and runs, just as Cam comes into view. My legs are weak, and I feel myself falling, but Cam’s arm wraps around my waist, holding me up. His other moves to cup my cheek. His hand feels warm.
“Shit, Veronica. Are you hurt?” he repeats himself. “Are you hurt?” He lifts my face to meet his. I see the worry in his gray eyes.
“My shoulder and my head,” I mumble, tears in my eyes.
"Can you walk?" he asks, his voice laced with a tenderness I’ve never heard from him before.
I take a deep breath. “Yes.”
He looks at Will, who’s standing behind him. He must have heard my screams and ran to me with Cam. “Grab her purse from the ground.” Then he turns to look at me, without breaking eye contact, and orders, “Take Ms. Kayde to her apartment. Now.” We both flinch. Most of my interactions with him have been full of smart-ass remarks and jabs at each other, but he’s always been so calm and indifferent toward anything related to me.
“Wait, where are you going?” I panic.
