Blood Betrayal

It was another Saturday in Los Angeles. Emily sat opposite the Beverly Hills Velvet Lounge with a glass of Louis XIII Cognac in front of her. She wore a crimson silk dress that wrapped around her curves and showed off her thighs. She took one gulp and tilted the glass back. “I’ll have another round, please,” she said to the bartender. She would have consumed six glasses of cognac that night. Six years! That's how long it had been since it all fell apart, since losing her mother and walking in on her father wrapped in infidelity with her best friend, Jessica. The experience was etched into her memory like an acid burn that could never be erased. She never spoke to either of them again. She had packed up and left their vacation home in North Carolina with nothing but heartbreak and shock, unable to face the truth about her father's infidelity, her mother's mysterious and untimely death, and the unbearable silence that followed. Los Angeles became her refuge and her fantasy of recovery. But time tends to catch up with the past. Now, at 28, it’s her sixth year in Los Angeles and her final night. She thought time would heal the anger, disappointment, and fears she felt, but sitting there, she realized it still feels like yesterday. Her chest still tightened, her eyes were still teary, and the trust she had in her father was still shaken. Tomorrow morning, she heads back home to North Carolina. Not the broken girl who departed years ago, but the woman prepared to deal with the darkness from her past. She was about to gulp down her last round when she noticed a firm clasp on her glass, with a light touch on her fingers. She looked up and saw an incredibly tall young man, with a chiseled face and almond-shaped hazel eyes, looking down at her with a smirk, his white shirt open to the chest and the sleeves rolled back, exposing his muscular forearms with prominent veins. “That’s enough for the night,” he said to Emily. Not like I care, but you should head home; you look too troubled to be out here all by yourself. I’m Jason. He held her hands in an attempt to get her to stand up. Why are you here if you don't care? Huh? Emily brushed his hands off. She meant to step back, but her eyes were fixed on his shoulders. They were too broad and perfect; for a moment she questioned if she’d died and gone to heaven. Emily was too stunned to speak; she bit her lip, staring at Jason’s chest with desire. In a shaky, low voice, she said, “I can’t feel my legs.” She fell back to her seat, holding onto Jason’s hands. He looked at her calmly, untouched by sentiment or desire, flung her hands away, and made an attempt to move away from her. She held onto him again and passed out. The loud sound of an alarm woke Emily up. She groaned and covered her head with a pillow, trying to block the noise. She stretched out her hands and switched the alarm off, popping her head out of the pillow only to realize it was 7:15 am. She felt dizzy and weak; her mouth was dry, and her stomach felt uneasy. Remembering her flight to North Carolina was at 10:30 am, she sat up slowly; her hair was a mess, and the room was wrecked from alcohol the night before. The last thing Emily could remember from the previous night was walking out of Beverly Hills Velvet Lounge with Jason. She held her head, attempting to figure out how she got home last night. After a few minutes, she stood up and walked into the bathroom sluggishly. She had a quick shower and prepared to leave. She wasn’t ready to face her father; she wasn’t sure she could live with him again, but if she could control her emotions for six years, then everything should be a piece of cake. Emily sat on the plane wondering what was going on back home in North Carolina; she had no intention of confronting her father. Being born into a family that could afford just about anything as an only child, she had lived a calm and unbothered life, investing her time in her family business, until the death of her mother. She kept thinking of what could have happened to the family business. She was in charge of the family’s real estate business until six years ago. Hello, Drunk Emily! A familiar voice interrupted her thoughts on the plane; she turned, and it was Jason from the previous night. Oh f**k!! She mumbled to herself, feeling embarrassed and hiding her face in shame. Hey, you should not. I don't usually…. Hmmm. He didn’t seem interested in a conversation. He sat close to her, putting on dark shades, looking unbothered and glancing at his phone. He had left immediately after they touched down in North Carolina. Finally, he was out of the plane, and out of her life, she thought. Two hours later, her driver turned onto the private road that led home in Winston-Salem. She looked out the window, enjoying the scenery and replaying the version of herself she’d present today, the girl who wouldn’t cry over little things, emotionally mature and unbothered. She had no idea that a bigger surprise was waiting at home. She stepped down from the car and walked into her home, carefully observing the changes that had been made. Voices from the direction of her father’s study got her attention; she walked slowly in that direction, and then she paused, holding her bag firmly. She could not believe her eyes; at that point, she felt the universe might have had something against her. Her dad approached her, stretching his arms for a hug. He was shocked and happy; tears filled his eyes as he held her close to him. Emily’s gaze was fixed on something different while hugging her father. It was Jason! The young man from the plane.