Chapter 4: Playing House

Derek's POV

Vanessa falls asleep in my car on the way to my penthouse, exhausted from crying and the emotional wreckage of the night. I carry her up from the parking garage and she doesn't wake up, just curls into my chest like she used to. It does something to me, seeing her this vulnerable again.

I put her in my bed and she immediately burrows under the covers, still wearing the clothes I gave her after we left the club. I should probably sleep on the couch but I can't make myself leave, so I lie down on top of the covers next to her and just watch her breathe.

This is what I wanted two years ago. Her in my space, in my bed, choosing me. Except it doesn't feel like a choice so much as a necessity, like we're both addicts who can't quit each other no matter how much damage we cause.

My phone buzzes. Jake, again. I've been ignoring his calls all night but I finally answer, stepping out into the hallway so I don't wake Vanessa.

"Are you alive?" he asks immediately. "Because you disappeared hours ago and I was starting to think that security guard actually killed you this time."

"I'm fine. Vanessa's here."

"At your place? Derek, what are you doing?"

"What I should've done two years ago. I'm not letting her go again." I lean against the wall, suddenly exhausted. "She had a boyfriend, Jake. That guy who punched me. They were together and I didn't know."

"Jesus. So what, you're just going to play house and pretend everything's fine?"

"No, we're going to figure this out. Actually talk this time, work through our shit." Even as I say it, I'm not sure I believe it.

"And what about her job? Her life? You think she's just going to give all that up and come running back?"

"I don't know," I admit. "But I have to try."

Jake sighs. "Just don't lose yourself in this again, man. Remember what happened last time."

I hang up and go back inside. Vanessa's awake now, sitting up in bed looking lost and small in my oversized shirt.

"Hey," I say quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I just blew up my entire life." She wraps her arms around herself. "Marcus won't answer my calls and I have a shift at the club tomorrow that I can't miss because I need the money and I don't even know what we're doing here."

I sit on the edge of the bed. "You don't have to go back to the club. I can take care of you, help you figure out what you want to do next."

Her head snaps up. "I don't need you to take care of me."

"That's not what I meant—"

"Isn't it?" She stands up, pacing now. "You want to swoop in and save me from my terrible life, make me dependent on you again so I can't leave."

"That's not fair, Vanessa. I'm trying to help."

"I don't want your help!" Her voice rises. "I don't want your money or your pity or whatever this is. I built a life without you, Derek. It might not be perfect but it's mine."

"A life dancing for strangers?" The words come out harsher than I intend. "That's what you want? To keep letting men pay to look at you, to touch you—"

"Don't you dare judge me for that." She's in my face now, furious. "You have no idea what I went through after I left. No idea what it took to survive."

"Then tell me!" I stand too, towering over her. "Stop pushing me away and actually talk to me for once."

"Why? So you can fix it? So you can throw money at the problem until it goes away?" Tears are streaming down her face again. "That's what you do, Derek. You solve everything with work and money and you never actually deal with the real issues."

"That's not true—"

"It is true! When I lost the baby, you know what you did when you finally came home? You bought me flowers and suggested we take a vacation. Like a trip to Paris would somehow make up for you not being there when I was bleeding out in a hospital."

The memory hits me like a punch. She's right. I remember buying those flowers, remember thinking I was doing the right thing, never understanding why she looked at me like I was a stranger.

"I didn't know what else to do," I say quietly. "I didn't know how to help you."

"You could've just been there. That's all I needed." She sits back down on the bed, deflated. "But you don't know how to just be present without trying to fix things."

I sit next to her, careful not to touch her. "So teach me. Tell me what you need and I'll do it."

"I need time. I need space to figure out what I actually want instead of just reacting to you being back in my life." She looks at me with exhausted eyes. "Can you give me that?"

Everything in me wants to say no, wants to keep her here where I can see her and know she's safe. But I'm trying to be different this time, trying to actually listen.

"Okay," I force out. "But you're not going back to that apartment tonight. Marcus might be there and you're too tired to deal with that."

She nods. "Tomorrow. I'll deal with everything tomorrow."

We lie down together, this time both under the covers, not touching but close enough that I can feel her warmth. My phone buzzes on the nightstand and I see Vanessa's light up too. She reaches for it and her face goes pale.

"What is it?"

"Marcus. He's at my apartment." She's reading the text, hands shaking. "He says if I don't come get my stuff by tomorrow morning, he's throwing it all out."

"Let him. I'll buy you new stuff."

"That's not the point!" She sits up again. "My paintings are there, Derek. My portfolio, all my art supplies, everything I've been working on for two years. I can't just let him destroy it."

"Then we'll go get it now."

"It's three in the morning and you two almost killed each other earlier. That's a terrible idea."

"So what, you want to go alone? Let him guilt you or manipulate you into staying with him?" I'm already getting up, grabbing my keys. "Not happening."

"Derek—"

"I'm not trying to control you or fix everything. But I'm also not letting you walk into a situation where you could get hurt." I look at her seriously. "We go together, get your stuff, and leave. That's it."

She stares at me for a long moment, then nods. "Fine. But if you start a fight with him, I'm leaving both of you there."

We get dressed in tense silence and head out into the early morning darkness. The drive to her apartment is quiet, both of us preparing for whatever's about to happen. When we pull up, I can see lights on in her windows.

"He's still awake," Vanessa says quietly. "This is going to be bad."

"I'm right here with you." I take her hand and she doesn't pull away. "Whatever happens, we handle it together."

We walk up the stairs to her apartment and she hesitates at the door, key in hand. Before she can unlock it, the door swings open and Marcus is standing there looking like he hasn't slept, eyes red and angry.

"Of course you brought him," he says bitterly.

"I'm just here to get my things," Vanessa says quietly. "Then I'll be gone."

"Yeah? Where you going, back to his penthouse?" Marcus looks at me with pure hatred. "Must be nice, having money to solve all your problems."

"Marcus, please don't do this." Vanessa tries to step inside but he blocks the doorway.

"Don't do what? Point out that you're making the same mistake twice? He left you once, Vanessa. What makes you think he won't do it again?"

"Get out of her way," I say, voice low and dangerous.

"Or what? You'll pay me to move?" He laughs bitterly. "Everything's for sale to you, isn't it? Including her."

I move forward but Vanessa grabs my arm. "Don't. He's hurt and he's lashing out. Just let me talk to him."

"You had your chance to talk," Marcus says. "Now you can watch me throw your shit off the balcony."

He disappears inside and before we can stop him, we hear crashing sounds. Vanessa screams and runs in, and I follow to see Marcus destroying her paintings, ripping canvases and throwing paint everywhere.

"Stop!" Vanessa is crying, trying to grab things from him but he's too fast, too angry. "Please, Marcus, stop!"

I tackle him away from her and we hit the floor hard. He throws a punch that catches my already bruised jaw and I see stars, but I pin him down anyway.

"Enough," I growl. "You want to be pissed at me, fine. But don't destroy her work just because you're hurt."

He stops struggling and suddenly he's crying, this big guy who punched me twice just breaking down.