My gut knew a whole lot more than that when I headed downstairs to floor nine, though. My gut had more sense than my goddamn fucking brain. Father’s presence in the office wasn’t just about fucking around in Bishop’s Landing and slacking at Holdings—this was about Elaine fucking Constantine. I knew it in my veins. The whole world was going Elaine Constantine crazy, not just me. I’d heard it all over the news on the way in.
Kidnapped. Somehow the whole damn world knew she’d been kidnapped.
I arrived on floor nine, and I almost regretted taking her from her sorry apartment in the first place. I almost wished I would’ve left her to the Power brothers and her own pitiful family to fuck up, that or kill herself and save everyone else the bother.
Almost. Jesus Christ, I only registered my thoughts as I stepped into the meeting room. Almost wished I’d left her? What the fuck was happening to me?
One thing was for sure, Father would be damned certain he was going to find out.
Chapter Thirteen
Elaine
Turning on the TV in the morning and seeing your face staring out at you from every channel is a weird experience—weird enough to make you jump from your seat. There I was, staring out at me from the screen in Lucian Morelli’s countryside shack, featuring on every news broadcast.
Elaine Constantine kidnapped!
How the hell did the news stations know I’d been kidnapped?
Wow, I was getting good coverage. It was official, I’d been kidnapped. Hello there, media shitstorm. The police were involved. If only they knew I was kidnapped by a Morelli, news would reach a whole new stratosphere.
People were speculating on every station, talking about sicko freaks in the world who may have taken me. That’s when it was getting crazy. There were random people talking about how they’d seen me places—dingy nightclubs alongside Tristan. Fuck.
Maybe they might start talking about Lucian being in those places too.
I almost enjoyed sitting on the couch in Lucian’s shirt watching my drama unfold on the screen. It was bizarrely exciting somehow, feeling so important to the world outside.
Tinsley was there, crying and asking for anyone to give information. No doubt Mom had drafted her in to play the part of the heartbroken sister after a heinous kidnapping.
There was no mention of the Power brothers or my debt, at least in the media. But in the Constantine universe it was undoubtedly them who’d taken me. They’d have figured that out regardless, but not to the same extent as they would have done once they’d barged into my room that night and looked for the answers. I can’t believe I really supported the fact that the Power brothers had taken me. I was embarrassed at the thought Lucian would find out about that…about the note…the note I’d…I’d scribbled…
Fuck.
I stepped away from the TV as I made myself a coffee and soup, feeling more at home in that smooth space than I ever felt in my own apartment. I wished in some ways that Lucian would just bail out on me for good and leave me to enjoy my life here without everyone around me. Hell, I was almost wishing I could stay alive, despite the constant regular shit of wanting my days to end I’d been carrying around with me for years.
But no.
No.
Lucian Morelli wasn’t my friend. And this wasn’t a sanctuary.
It was a clue as to just how fucked up my head was when I started looking at the clock, wondering when Lucian would be back, if at all. That broken girl in me was almost hoping he would come back soon and shove more than his fingers down her throat. That broken girl needed to hurt. Needed her damn punishment.
That broken girl was too messed up for a reason.
Lunchtime came and went slowly, and even the TV stations stopped holding my interest. Hearing about what a lovely girl I was on screen was a joke when I’d been hearing what a bad one I was for decades. I switched it off with a curse, and then I sat there, bored.
I tried again and watched another load of random speakers speculating where I was on the TV, and still I was bored.
That’s when the boredom turned, just like it always did. Boredom turned into mind-wandering memories, and they turned dark quickly without cocaine or alcohol to numb me. Memories that chewed me up inside.
I could feel them brewing, just like always. Feel them reaching out at me from the pits of my own fucked-up soul, just like always.
I heard them, felt them, feared them.
No, please. I’ll be a good girl. I promise I’ll be a good girl.
Don’t touch me again. Please, don’t touch me like that. Don’t make it hurt.
It hurts, Uncle Lionel, please don’t let them in tonight. Please!
My desperate sense of desire drove me back to the kitchen. I opened the drawer with trembling fingers, knowing what was coming, knowing what I needed, knowing what I always needed.
The knives were sharp.
I picked the one Lucian had used so well for the salami the night before. I ran it over my thumb to check it, and it was good enough. Sharp enough. It would cut me just fine.
Dear Lord, if only those memories would fuck off and die instead of me. I sat down with my back to the cupboard, taking deep breaths as I prepared myself. There was no point denying the obvious, those memories kept on coming. Eating me up.
Please, don’t touch me like that!
I nicked my thigh, just enough to feel the sting.
Please, Uncle Lionel, please. Don’t let them!
The next cut was longer, deeper.
Please, no. No. Not there!
Blood. Enough blood that I could feel the release.
I’ll be a good girl, just don’t hurt me, please!
My thighs were dripping. The rush of pain and relief soothed me.
I’ll be a good girl and put you in my mouth. I’ll be a good girl and put my hand between my legs.
I tipped my head back against the cupboard and enjoyed the sensation. Fresh cuts on scars. Lucian would punish me for them, but I didn’t care. I would welcome that punishment, remember my manners and thank him for it.
If only I was brave enough to slit my wrists and set myself free, but I wasn’t. I’d never been brave enough to do that. If I would’ve been brave enough to do that I would’ve already been dead when Lucian Morelli came for me that night.
If only I’d been sane enough to want to damn Lucian Morelli to a hell of his own, then I’d never have left the note about the Power brothers on my kitchen counter.
Chapter Fourteen
Lucian
Elaine was a butterfly with wings of so many wonderful fucked-up colors they could blind a man if he looked too deep. I didn’t understand her. I shouldn’t want to.
She shouldn’t transfix me.
I was back in the car like a man possessed before I could stop myself as the day reached its close, heading out alongside everyone with a regular day job, even though I’d already faced the wrath from my father.
“What the fuck is happening to you, Lucian? Why are you abandoning Holdings?”
Ironic, to get a call from my father.
He was worried. I could hear it in his voice. He liked to play the game. The power struggle. The coup. He enjoyed it, but he never thought I’d stop playing.
It was his truth to share with me that had my senses reeling beyond all recognition.
Elaine Constantine told her family directly that it was the Power brothers waiting for her outside. By letter. She told them by letter. A hand scrawled letter on her kitchen counter.