For ten minutes, we chatter back and forth before I watch as Mina tries to discreetly hide a yawn.

  “Dad, we’re going to head to the loft, but I’ll catch up with you another time.”

  “Alright darlin’. You take care,” he tells me. “You two staying for a drink?”

  “I’ll go with Rebecca,” Eli announces.

  “Stay here. Have a drink. I’ll be back here in an hour or so.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks, glancing from Mina then back to me.

  I give him a pointed look. “Of course. And you should definitely check out the menu. The food is incredible here.”

  He doesn’t look happy, but with one glance at Mina, he nods. “Alright.”

  “Linc, did you manage to get the things I asked for?”

  “Yes, and I put them away.”

  “Thank you.”

  Without thinking, I lean up and kiss Eli on the cheek. I groan as I drop to the balls of my feet, and with one glance at my dad, I know wedding bells are ringing in his head.

  “Don’t say anything,” I growl, and before they can reply with a sarcastic comment, Mina and I head out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Rebecca

  A short time later, Mina and I take the stairs to the loft. She’s been quiet since we left the club, and I’ve left her to her thoughts. She’s overwhelmed, and rightly so.

  Just like any type of abuse, she’s done the hardest part. She left. She left on a chance that I was who I said I was.

  Now, she needs time to process it’s real, and that she now has a job and help at hand. I know my dad, and although he never made it obvious about noticing her bruising, he noticed. And I’m guessing right now he’s questioning Eli on who she is and what happened to her.

  I plan to stay in Mina’s life, but now I know she’ll be taken care of when I’m not here. I saw the promise in Lincoln’s gaze, and in my dad’s. She’ll never want for anything, and she’ll never be alone.

  “I know the stairs are a killer, but you’ll get used to them.”

  “They’re fine,” she replies quietly as we hit the landing.

  I point to the door on the other side of railing. “That’s Lincoln’s loft.”

  She stares at the door for a moment too long, uncertainty there. “And it’s just us in the building?”

  Stopping outside her door, I wait for her to reach me, before replying: “Lincoln’s a good guy. He was sixteen when my dad found him rummaging through the bins at the back of the club. He offered Linc to move in with us, but back then, Linc didn’t trust anyone and refused, so Dad offered him the loft. He declined that at first too. He refused anything Dad offered. I’m not even sure what changed his mind back then, but when he finally accepted, Dad had already got furniture and whatnot put together inside. He began to work at the club and has been with us ever since.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “His dad beat him. Linc told me it’s because he’s gay, but back then, I had a feeling it was happening before he announced he was gay. He’s had it tough. But he worked his arse off at the club and now pretty much runs the restaurant and bar area. Dad has a soft spot for him since he always wanted a son,” I explain. “You’ll love him. I promise. And if you ever need help, he’ll be there.”

  “How come you moved away from him?” she asks hesitantly.

  I run my eyes over the stairs. “I lied when I said you get used to them. I hated them. Back then, I’d be constantly travelling, or I’d be on shoots all night, and walking up them on little to no sleep felt like I was climbing Mount Everest.”

  “Do you miss living next to him?”

  “Yeah, I do. I mean, I bought a three-bedroom in the hope Linc and my best friend, Evie, would move in with me at the time, but neither would until recently. Now Evie is living with me,” I admit on a shrug. “Before we go in, that door leads up to a small roof space or balcony or whatever it’s called. Linc has done wonders with it and it’s a great place to relax. He’s left a key inside on the counter.”

  “Okay,” she replies, gripping her strap.

  “Let’s go and get you settled.”

  She nods, and her knuckles turn white at the grip she has on her bag. I unlock the door and push it open. The short hallway has cupboards on either side to hang coats or for storage, and leads to the open floor plan. Natural light engulfs the entire space. Covering the front of the building are windows that cost a fortune, with custom blinds that are now closed halfway.

  It’s summer right now, and the heat comes from outside, but once winter hits, she’ll have underfloor heating under the wooden flooring.

  There’s a bathroom to the left of the room, and it’s the only room, except storage, that holds privacy.

  “As you can see, it’s all open flooring down here. You’ve got a bathroom in the room to the left, and above the kitchen is the bedroom. The stairs don’t look like much, but I promise they are sturdy,” I tease, pointing out the metal stairs that wind up to the bedroom, that again is open. It’s blocked off with a railing that I decorated with lights to give it a more warm feel in the winter.

  “It’s massive,” she declares in wonder.

  “The cupboards and fridge are stocked up with food. Linc ran out and filled them up so expect a lot of junk food in there.”

  “This doesn’t feel real,” she rasps as she takes in the space.

  “I told you I would help, and I meant it,” I swear. “I’m not sure how to go through the next part without overwhelming you, so I’m sorry in advance.”

  “What do you mean?” she asks warily.

  “I didn’t know if you would come or not, or what you’d need, so I hope I prepared for everything,” I explain.

  “You’ve already done more than enough,” she replies softly.

  “Come sit,” I demand with a soft tone. We sit on the eight-seater sofa, and I tuck my legs up, one arm hanging over the back of the sofa. “Upstairs in your bedroom, I’ve left some bags out that have a ton of different clothes in them. The receipts are all there, so if they don’t fit, just call me and we can head into town and exchange them.”

  “Thank you, but you really didn’t have to do that. I don’t have much, but it will do until I get enough money to get some,” she tells me, pulling her gaze away from the room. “I promise to pay you back for them.”

  I wave off her concern. “You never have to give me anything in return. There’s another bag that has clothing samples in. I never get to wear everything I’m sent, but I guessed you were a size ten and pulled together a bunch of stuff I had stored away.”

  “You get sent clothes?”

  “I get sent everything. Perk of the job. Which brings me to this,” I tell her, and lean over the side of the sofa and drag the white bag until it’s on the floor between us. “I have more where these came from, so please don’t hesitate to accept them. It’s makeup, skin care, and hair products. There are probably shades that are suited to your skin tone, but I’m sure you’ll be able to mix a few to get what you need if there isn’t.”

  She bends down, rummaging through the items at the top of the bag. “There’s so much in here,” she whispers. “I can’t accept all of this. I’ll never be able to pay you back.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Everything comes at a cost.”

  “No. Sometimes there are good people out there who don’t want anything in return, or recognition. And those who don’t have an ulterior motive.”

  “So, this isn’t because you feel guilty for calling the police?”

  I sigh, having prepared for the question. “Do I feel guilty for calling the police? Fuck yes. But only because you got hurt from it. If I knew you would get hurt, I wouldn’t have phoned them. I would have found another solution. But, babe, I’m not doing this because of that. I’m doing this because I want to. I want to help you.”

  Her hands shake as she places them in her lap, her head turned down. I’ve overwhelmed her, and right now, she needs time to think and process it all.

  She tucks her hands between her knees to stop them from shaking, and as I take her in, I watch a fat teardrop slip from her eye and onto her hand.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You’ve done more for me than my mum has my whole life,” she chokes out. “I wanted to believe she loves me, but if she did, she wouldn’t have watched me suffer.”

  “I can’t speak for your mum, so I don’t know how to answer. I don’t know what goes through her head, or how she feels, but, babe, no matter how she feels, that doesn’t define you.”

  The burning pain in her gaze has the breath stalling in my lungs. “I just wanted a mum. I wanted a mum who cared that I got picked on for my clothes, or that my hair was greasy because we had no shampoo. I wanted a mum who would turn up to my parents evening or school play. I wanted a mum who noticed I was in pain. I don’t need grand gestures. I don’t need expensive clothes or nice things. I just wanted her to be beside me to hold my hand. And even now, my stomach is churning at the thought of her being in that house all alone. She’ll have no one to clean up or shower her when she’s too drunk to clean herself after vomiting or wetting the bed. She won’t have anyone to treat her injuries when she hurts herself. And after everything I’ve learned, after the years of neglect, I can’t stop loving her. I can’t stop the horrid thoughts going through my head. I’d blame myself if something was to happen.”

  My eyes burn as I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Don’t. Don’t do that, Mina. You are her daughter. She’s a grown woman who should be taking care of herself. You aren’t responsible for her. I know this is hard for you to hear and I’m sorry. I’m sorry this is even an issue for you. We all have one life to live; don’t live your mum’s.”

  “She probably hasn’t even noticed I’ve left yet.”

  “Mina, I should have offered this to begin with, but do you want us to look at getting your mum help?”

  She wipes under her eyes. “It would be a waste of money and resources. She’s been offered help over and over and she’s never taken it. The only time she ever got clean was to get social services to bring us back.”

  “So maybe you leaving will push her to take the right step.”

  She forces out a laugh. “No. It won’t. The only reason she tried is because the money stopped when we left. Yeah, she got some sort of benefits, but she missed the amount she got when we were in her care.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she whispers, her eyes drooping.

  “I’m going to let you get settled in, I promise. You look like you are ready to drop. But before I do, there’s a few more things I want to talk to you about.”

  “What else could you possibly do? You’ve done everything.”

  “What happened with Andrew Black… Have you thought about going to the police?”

  She tenses, and I watch as her guard goes up as she stands. “No. And I’m not going to. I can’t prove he hurt me. I showered the minute I got home and was in there for hours. And when I still didn’t feel clean, I went in there again, and again, and again.”

  I stand, holding my hands up. “Okay, okay. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. But please, at least think about talking to someone,” I tell her, and before she can argue, I continue, pulling a card out of my back pocket. “This lady is someone who is helping a friend of mine. I want you to think about giving her a call and booking in some sessions.”

  She pauses mid-pace. “Like a therapist?”

  “She’s a psychologist, so yeah, like a therapist. She’s helped my friend so much, so I trust her. She’s good. And although you might be okay keeping everything in now, somewhere down the line, it will hit you. When it does, I want you to have the techniques to help. She can do this.”

  “I feel like a fraud,” she rasps.

  “Why?”

  “Because I worked there. I knew it wasn’t a legit company. The men who went there just got off on a massage. Those clients, believe it or not, were who I preferred. I never went beyond that, to my boss’s dismay. But every so often, I’d get one who would get handsy. I’d be forced to do it in my underwear, or no bra. The more experienced girls dealt with the other clients. But then Mr Black came, and the girl who normally takes him wasn’t there, and I was the only one available. I agreed because I was scared of my boss. Black… he touched me where I didn’t want to be touched. And he knew. He knew that I had never been intimate with someone, so he raped me. It was over in less than a minute, but for me, it felt like hours.”

  “Mina—”

  “No. Nothing you can say will make me feel better. I could have said no to working there. I could have left or gone to the police, but I didn’t. I stayed.”

  “To protect your mum.”

  “Yes. For a mum who didn’t believe her daughter when she told her the new boyfriend got into bed with her and touched her. Instead, she accused me of trying to take him away from her. I was twelve. Twelve. And when I went home the day Black hurt me, she laughed and told me I was being a prude.”

  “Mina, babe,” I call out.

  “So no. No, I won’t call the police to report him. I won’t tell them how beating me nearly to death turned him on, and that it took him three thrusts before it was over. I got lucky that day. I got lucky because he could have kept me there for hours, even days, but he didn’t. After he zipped up his trousers, he told me to keep my mouth shut and left.”

  I pull her into my arms and hold her tight, even as she tries to fight me. I keep a hold of her because if anyone needs a loving touch, it’s her. I hold her because my stomach is churning over her ordeal.

  When I pull back, her cheeks are blotchy with tears. “Seconds, minutes, hours, none of that matters. It still shouldn’t have happened. And if you don’t want to go to the police, it’s fine. Black has what’s coming to him. And I’m sorry if you felt like I was pushing you. I didn’t mean to,” I tell her, trying to keep it together. “But, babe, please think about talking to someone. It might help, it might not, but what do you have to lose?”

  “Why do you care? What is he to you?” she asks, crossing her arms against her stomach.

  “Take a seat and I’ll explain,” I promise. She reluctantly does. “Can you remember I mentioned my best friend, Evie?”

  “Yeah. What does she have to do with it?”

  “She’s his biological daughter,” I announce. She goes to stand, grabbing her bag, but I take her wrist, stopping her. “Please, wait. Let me finish.”

  She sits back down, her complexion pale. “Is that why I’m here? Has he asked you to keep me quiet?”

  “What? No! I wouldn’t piss on that man if he was on fire.”

  “Then why?”

  “Long story short, he got Evie’s mum pregnant. She was the sweetest, kindest woman you will ever meet, but she had a blind spot when it came to Andrew. He used her constantly, and because she loved him, she let him, not realising what it was doing to her daughter.

  “He didn’t want anything to do with Evie, and his kids were just as bad. They bullied her at school and put her down. I hated what they did to her.

  “When her mum got sick, she took care of her as well as putting herself through school and work. She would never accept any help. It’s just who she is. And I think it stemmed down to watching her mum be reliant on Andrew when he was around.

  “Her mum got worse and no longer remembered Evie. She ended up being put into a home. Then one day, she was moved. Andrew arranged it. Not because he cared or because he loved her, but because he wanted to control Evie. He put Evie through hell. He stopped Evie’s visits at the home and threatened her mum’s health, and she loved her mum. He got Evie fired from her job, and then not long after, made sure she lost the only home she had. She tried so hard not to fall to his threats, and because of that, it caught up to her. A lot happened that I won’t get into, but one day, a day she really needed her mum, even though her mum didn’t remember her anymore, Evie found out her mum had died.”

  “Oh my god,” she rasps.

  “Yeah. And she had been dead a week, and no one told her because of Andrew throwing his weight around. That day, I talked my best friend down from a bridge. I watched her break, and I watched her die inside. I hate him. I hate him for everything he has done to her.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend.”

  “Thank you,” I reply. “There is more to the story, which is why I was there that day you saw me. If you don’t want to go to the police, don’t. But if it eases your mind, he has a lot of people going after him. He has what’s coming. I swear.”

  “Men like him always get away with stuff.”

  “Not this time,” I mutter. “Trust me. We have it handled. He pissed off the wrong people, and we won’t stop until we get justice. And that includes for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “For believing me. For helping me. For never sugar-coating stuff. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome, but I’m not finished.”

  Her eyes widen. “You aren’t?”

  “Nope. I didn’t think you’d take money off me, so we purchased a bunch of gift cards. Don’t worry, Eli, Liam and a few others who know what I’m doing chipped in. They are on the kitchen counter in an envelope. One is solely for food, and then the rest are for different stores so you can get clothes or bits and bobs.”

  “Rebecca, that’s too much.”

  I smile as I click my fingers. “I love feeling like Santa,” I reveal.

  She shakes her head. “You are a little weird. I mean, you don’t really know me. Not well. And you are doing all this stuff for me. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

  “I can take weird. I mean, I was worried I was going to come across serial killerish. I don’t think that’s a word, but you get where I’m going. And if Eli asks, tell him you think it’s sweet because he mentioned I was coming off crazy with all the stuff I was getting,” I admit. “And don’t ever worry about repaying me. Just concentrate on you.”