Have Me by J. Kenner

Author:J. Kenner [Kenner, J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

“A lawsuit,” I say numbly for what has to be the billionth time. I turn to Damien, not certain if I’m angry or scared or just plain gobsmacked. “How the hell can this be happening?”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” he says, and his voice is so precise that I know he is even angrier than I am. “It’s either a mistake, or someone is fucking with you.”

We’re back in the main cabin where I had gone to take the satellite call, and now I shift even more on the leather love seat so that I am facing him directly. “Fucking with me?” I manage a mirthless laugh. “I’d say that sums it up nicely.”

When Sylvia had first told me that a company named WiseApps Development was threatening litigation, my mind couldn’t process it. I spend months and months developing all my smart phone apps, and the idea that I had blatantly stolen the coding for my most popular app was not only absurd but insulting.

It had to be a joke. My best friend, Jamie, being a goof. Or Ollie stretching his lawyer wings to give me grief on my honeymoon.

Except that is bullshit because neither of my friends would pull such a mean joke. This is real. And it’s serious. And the thought of getting embroiled in litigation—of being accused of doing something so incredibly heinous—is more than I can process. I’m lost in the mist of unreality, and if it weren’t for Damien’s hand in mine, I fear I would never find my way back to reality.

“Nikki.” His voice is gentle but firm. I take a deep breath, certain that my eyes are glassy, my skin pale. “It will be okay.”

I want to believe him, but I can’t wrap my head around it, and so I just stare at him, hating the attorney who has been calling Sylvia, terrified of the foundation of lies that must exist in order for WiseApps to have convinced an attorney to get involved.

“Nikki,” Damien repeats, and this time his voice is sharp. He releases my left hand, then reaches across my body to take my right.

I glance down. I’m wearing nothing but a robe, and it has fallen open, leaving both of my thighs exposed along with the angry scars that mar them, souvenirs from another life, when it was pain and a blade that kept me centered.

Now, I’m surprised to see that I’ve been digging my nails into my thigh, so viciously that I’ve come close to drawing blood. I try to relax my hand so that Damien can pull it away, but I can’t seem to manage it. I’m untethered, and I need the pain to anchor me.

“No,” Damien says, and though I know that he is referring to the way I am hurting myself, I hear the word as if in contradiction to my thoughts. No, I do not need the pain. And he is right, I think. It’s not the pain that is my anchor. Not anymore.

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