Forbidden

Caught

Van

Van clutched her pillow over her head. Not a single drop of alcohol had passed her lips last night, but she felt as though she'd guzzled an entire fifth of whiskey by herself. The drilling pain in her temple intensified. No- she'd been dumb enough to do that once, not long after her mother's death. This was even worse than that, and she'd been certain death was tolling for her after that incident.

It had been hours since Luca had driven away, but she didn't feel any better despite stealing a few hours of sleep. Sleep that wasn't nearly as peaceful without his heartbeat beneath her ear. As she'd promised, getting back in the house had been simple. Paula was bustling about in the kitchen, but she only raised her eyebrow at Van's appearance and went back to whatever she was cooking.

"Ugh," she hissed, throwing the pillow to the side and sitting up slowly. Prodding the skin around her eye, she winced. It was tender, but not nearly as much as she expected. Tommy's magic medicine had done its job.

She picked up the small container Luca had given her, remembering he told her to reapply often. But the smell wafting up to her made her stomach lurch, and she snapped the lid back on. As long as it wasn't visible enough to call attention to it, she would deal with the pain. Something about the ointment didn't sit right with her, making her feel drunk- part of her wondered if the headache resulted from the medicine and not the fist to her head.

Her phone buzzed beside her bed, and the name Sexy Beast flashed on the screen. Knowing immediately who it was, she swiped to open her messages.

Sexy Beast: How's the head?

Van: Still attached. I'm changing your name to Moderately Attractive Troublemaker, btw.

Van hit send. She didn't have to wait long.

Sexy Beast: So you think I'm cute?

Blowing a raspberry, she chucked her phone to the end of the bed before she could respond. Something about that boy urged her to lower her walls, and now that he wasn't standing in front of her, smelling delicious and looking like sin, Van took a minute to reconstruct them. She studied it, trying to figure out where the weaknesses were so he couldn't penetrate them so quickly. He would try and likely be successful. Luca didn't give up on people, and he was kind to a fault.

"Huh," she said aloud. A tear slipped down her cheek- from the pain, she assured herself. Kindness. When was the last time someone had been kind to her? The kids and teachers at school weren't mean, but she couldn't miss the pity in their stares. Paula was sweet, but Van didn't trust someone who earned a paycheck based on how well she simpered and served. Gabriella was dismissive, and her father waffled between cold indifference and overzealous ass hat.

Van stood up, her hand flying to her mouth when the room spun and last night's dinner raced up her esophagus. She barely made it to the toilet before vomit spewed from her lips, turning the water pink and chunky. Her knuckles grew white as another spasm wracked her body, making her heave again. Over and over again. Her eyes watered, her nose dripped, and still she threw up, until finally she spit out bile and sagged over the seat.

"Oh, poor child."

"Paula?" Van asked, lifting her head and squinting at the doorway. Their stout housekeeper stood there with a bottle of water in her hands.

"I came in to bring clean sheets for your bed and heard you getting sick. Here drink some water." She held out the bottle, the lid already removed. "Sips, child. Sips."

Van obeyed, the clear liquid cleaning the sour taste from her tongue. A cool, wet washcloth was pressed to her forehead, and she leaned into the other woman. "Thank you."

"You shouldn't drink until you are so sick."

"I didn't drink Paula. I promise. That's what's so strange."

"You are not telling me lies? I will not tell your father."

"You can tell him I drank a keg for all I care. But I'm being honest. I didn't drink."

"Hmm, do you feel any better now?"

Van took another drink of water and assessed herself. The headache was gone, and her stomach, while still uneasy no longer cramped. "I do, actually."

Paula nodded, helping her off the floor and walking her to the bed. Fresh, cool sheets soothed her heated skin. "Perhaps it was food poisoning. The body wanted to get rid of the bad thing, and it is happy now."

Van found her eyes drifting to the metal container of medicine. "That makes sense. Guess we'll know in a few minutes if I get sick again."

"I will make you some soup, and if you haven't thrown up in the next hour, we will get some of that in your stomach, yes?"

"That sounds good. Thank you, Paula."

The older woman smiled, and Van's newly reconstructed walls wobbled. She didn't have the energy to mess with them, and she let her head drop to the cold pillow. Sleep would cure whatever ailed her, she was sure of it.

But downstairs a door slammed, rattling the house. Heavy thuds followed, growing louder and louder until her bedroom door burst open. Her father marched across the room. His eyes glittered with fury, and he clenched and unclenched his fist.

"Where were you last night?"

"Out. You know I went out."

"Let me rephrase the question and be careful, girl. I already know the answer. Why didn't you come home last night?"

Van rolled to her side and closed her eyes. On a good day, she wanted nothing to do with her father. This was not a good day.

"Vanessa."

"Go away. I'm sick."

Bruising fingers grabbed her arm and jerked her upright. "Did that boy lay a hand on you?"

"Let me go," she screamed, clawing at him. Spots flickered in her vision, and he did not release her. "Fine, leave a bruise. I'll show it to the child protective services."

"Vanessa," he seethed, releasing her and stepping back. It gave her a chance to look him over. Black hair stuck up in every direction and uncharacteristic stubble grew across his jaw. Red lines striped the whites of his eyes, and his chest heaved as if he'd run a marathon. "You are playing with fire."

"Because I went out with a friend? Who was male?"

"Luca Brooks is not a friend. I do not want you near him, is that clear?"

"What do you think?" she snapped, cradling her arm.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose as Paula bustled in with a Gatorade. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at the brute of a man before she handed Van the drink. "Sir, with all due respect, the child was just throwing up. Perhaps you could let her rest and continue this discussion later?"

Her stern tone surprised Van, but Father didn't appear to be offended. His stiff posture relaxed, and he turned to leave. "Fine, but Vanessa," he spoke over his shoulder. "before you leave this house again, we will talk. Or you'll not leave it again."