Chapter Ten

Elle

THE DRIVE HOME was one of the hardest things I’d ever lived through.

David didn’t say a word; he merely drove with iron concentration and astute silence. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t ask for a report from the police.

He just escorted me from the park as if I’d come out of Belle Elle like a normal evening after work.

He didn’t comment about how I’d been caught with a man. He didn’t speak at all apart from to tell me to be careful climbing into the backseat of the Range Rover Sport.

Pulling up to the brownstone where I lived, he cut the engine and jumped out. A moment later, he pulled open the door for me and nodded in the darkness. “Have a good night, Ms. Charlston.”

“Thank you, David. You too.”

I didn’t ask if he’d keep this to himself. My father would know. I wouldn’t be able to keep my night-time wanderings a secret.

But at least neither of them would know about the alley and how I’d met Nameless.

He nodded again and hopped back into the Range Rover.

I kept my chin high even though my heart sputtered at the thought of what would happen to Nameless. Was he in prison now? Would he go to trial? What sort of warrants did they have?

My questions would have to wait because the second I climbed the steps and entered the home I was raised in, my father grabbed me in a boa constrictor hug.

“Oh, holy hell, Elle. Where the bells have you been?”

I couldn’t even rib him for his weird expressions tonight. I squeezed him back, drained and confused, lost and sad. “I’m okay, Dad.”

“You ran away!” He pulled back, disappointment and hurt bright in his eyes. “Why would you do such a thing? And on your birthday, no less.”

I shrugged out of his embrace. “I didn’t run away.” I kicked off my sneakers and padded into the living room where hints of my mother still existed everywhere.

From the pristine cream linen couches to the white gauze draped around the window bay.

A baby grand piano sat in the corner next to the ornate fireplace while knickknacks from my parents’ travels littered side tables and coffee tables in a cluttered but designer way.

My piano lessons flittered into my head as my fingers played an imaginary chord, giving me something to focus on when all I wanted to do was burst into tears.

Dad followed, throwing himself into his overstuffed chair that’d long since compacted and wrinkled from his weight. “Where were you, Elle?

“You say you didn’t run away, but you were found in Central Park. At one a.m! Do you know how dangerous that is?” His eyes cast over me. “And what the hell are you wearing?”

Damn, David had already told him.

I looked at the black bomber I couldn’t unzip; otherwise, he’d see my torn top and bruises. My skinny jeans smeared with dirt and chocolate. I was so far removed from the daughter he knew.

The daughter who lived in fashion catalogs and had nightmares of Christmas sale stocks being too low.

I shouldn’t be daydreaming about a man who tasted like candy or a kiss beneath the stars on a baseball field.

Had that really happened?

~Was it real?~

I sighed, knowing I had to grovel before I could ask what would happen to Nameless. “I’m sorry, Dad. I—I wanted to see what the world was like for someone who wasn’t an heiress.”

He sucked in a breath. “Why?”

“Because I’m nineteen and never explored the city on my own.

“Because I’m running a billion-dollar company and never been to a party or gossiped with girls or kissed a boy.” I looked up, pleading with him to understand.

“I wanted to be normal…just for a few hours.”

He sighed.

Silence fell as he reclined heavily into his chair. Whatever anger he had blew itself out.

That was my dad.

He rarely exploded, and when he did, it didn’t last long. Guilt sat even worse because now his anger had gone, his second-guessing and regret burrowed through me.

I inched to the edge of the couch, getting closer to him. “I was coming back. The man who was arrested was walking me home safely.”

“Arrested?” His head snapped up.

“Yes. I think he’s homeless and probably has a few crimes of stealing to eat.

“But tonight, he saved me.” I wouldn’t go into the details with my father—he didn’t need those mental images of me trapped and scared to haunt him, or worse, use them against me if I ever tried to leave on my own again—but I did need to fight for the man who’d fought for me.

“He was an utter gentleman, Dad. He was kind and a little rough but overall someone worthy of being given a chance.”

I linked my fingers, squeezing tight to overcome my nerves and push ahead. It was a trick I used in the boardroom when firing a department head if they were found embezzling or not doing their job.

I could never show weakness.

~Ever.~

Tonight, I’d shown weakness, and it’d almost gotten me raped and a man locked up.

“We need to help him.”

Dad frowned. “Help? How?”

“We need to hire a lawyer—get him good representation, so he isn’t incarcerated.”

He scowled. “If he committed the crime, it’s only fair he suffers the consequences.”

“Doesn’t he deserve someone to fight on his side, though? I don’t know his name but I doubt he has anyone. He saved me. The least I can do is try to do the same.”

“You were gallivanting around the city with a man, and you didn’t know his name?” He groaned, shaking his head. “What were you thinking?” He stood suddenly, rubbing his face as if in denial.

“Elle, you’ve had a long night. I’m going to bed, and I suggest you do the same. Sage is in your room. I collected her from the office when I went to check on you and found you were gone.”

His guilt trip worked. I slotted myself into his weary arms. “I’m so, ~so~ sorry. I should’ve told you.”

“Yes, you should have.” He hugged me, although reluctantly.

~But if I had, you wouldn’t have let me go.~

He spoke into my hair, no doubt smelling spicy beef burritos and dangerous alleys.

I was glad my long hair covered the bruise on my temple and whatever other calling cards those thugs had left were hidden beneath my clothes.

“I know this is my fault, keeping you so sheltered and buried under work, but my God, Elle, I never expected you to go chasing after the first boy who showed interest in you.

“A boy who was ~arrested~, for goodness’ sake.”

I smarted with shame. “It’s not like that. He wasn’t just any boy. He was—”

When I didn’t continue, he sighed sadly. “He was what? A friend? A soul-mate? A teenage crush?” He pinched his nose. “Elle, I will never stand in the way of you finding love. I ~want~ you to find love.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t wish your mother was still alive to teach you how valuable love can be, but I won’t permit you to throw away everything you have with a stupid infatuation over a criminal who doesn’t deserve you.”

“Dad…don’t—”

His eyes dropped to my throat. Pain arrowed through him, followed by rage. “Where is your necklace?”

I jolted.

“Tell me, Elle. The sapphire star I bought you. The one I spent hours deliberating over.

“The one I bought because the blue matched your eyes and the star symbolized how much you mean to me?” His fists shook. “Where is it?”

I looked at the beige carpet. “I lost it.”

The lie turned to paste on my tongue, but it was better than the truth. Better for him to blame me than to think of his gift in the possession of heartless thieves who meant me harm.

“For God’s sake, Noelle.” He shook his head, tiredness etching his eyes. “Not only were you irresponsible with yourself but with your gift, too.

“If you planned on using tonight as a demonstration that you were capable of spending some time alone away from the company, consider it a failure.” His voice deepened with authority.

“Until you can prove you are still the considerate daughter I raised, I don’t want you leaving this house without David, do you hear me?”

My tears turned to anger. Heat smoked through me to argue back. To tell him just how suffocated I felt, how lonely, how lost. But I’d already hurt him tonight, and now, he’d hurt me.

We were even.

I smiled tight, hiding everything. We both had more to say but wouldn’t verbalize. He was disappointed in me. I was frustrated by him.

It was best to go to bed before we uttered things we couldn’t take back.

“Goodnight, Dad,” I moved around him and left the living room. “I’m sorry about the necklace.”

As I climbed the sweeping staircase to my room on the third floor, my mind returned to the man who tasted like chocolate and had hands that could touch so sweetly but also cause such violence.

I would never forget him.

And tomorrow, I would do what I could to help him.

Because he’d helped me, and in some crazy way, he’d claimed my young, naïve heart.

I would get him free.

No matter how impossible that task would be.