“Let me go,” she whispered. Her voice was sugar sweet. Too sweet for this world. “I can walk.”
“Like hell you can,” I replied, surprising her by lifting her lithe body from the floor, cradling the damn woman like a bride on her wedding night.
She didn’t fight. She didn’t scream and push me away like she had with Marco, and I felt a little smug about the whole thing.
“Who are you?” She asked, her voice slurred from her outburst. I stole a glance towards her, my feet starting the journey up the stairs. I had no fucking clue where her bedroom was.
Smiling, I said, “Jax Murdoch.”
Nothing. She didn’t flinch. Her eyes were still closed, and I was tempted to prize them open, see them stunning blues again.
“Oh,” was all she said back, her hands gripped on to my shirt and, I’m not fucking ashamed to admit, her touch my skin goddamned skin alight. “My husband doesn’t like you much,” she mumbled as we reached the last step. Hearing her sweet voice call him that made my skin crawl. Sonofabitch bruised her, and you didn’t need her to confirm that he was responsible for the marks all over her beautiful flesh.
“I don’t think much of him either,” I said, looking down the vast hallway.
As if reading my thoughts, she gave me directions, her slim arm shaking as she pointed. “Fourth door on the left.”
It had been an uneventful drive to Vladimir’s mansion. Meeting him on his home turf had been, for the most part, uneventful. The whole morning had been dull, far too quiet for how big a day it was, and then she lost consciousness. She’d already been halfway to a full-blown meltdown, but I saw her the moment I’d walked in that room.
She was the type of fire in a room you most definitely couldn’t or shouldn’t ignore. If God was testing me, well, the score was going to be tallying up nice on his side.
We were both silent as we reached her bedroom door. It was awkward as hell, trying to twist the doorknob with her in my arms, but I didn’t put her down. I held her against me, as I opened it, I carried her through her clinical space and deposited her on her bed.
Her eyes never opened, and I stood there, watching as she covered herself with her sheet, knowing I should leave.
“Do you need me to send anyone up?” I asked her.
A smile ghosted her lips; I wasn’t sure why, and she shook her head, red fucking curls framing her cheekbones.
“I’m sorry he chose you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry he’s dragged you away from your life.”
It was right it that moment. With her curled up in the fetal position, body bruised, make-up unable to conceal her bruises, hair fanning around her like a pair of wings, that I thought of her as a bird. A broken, fragile bird with wings no-one would let her use. I didn’t know shit about the woman, but I knew, without a shadow of a goddamn doubt, that she didn’t deserve to belong here.
Crouching down beside her bed, keeping my greedy hands from touching her, I frowned. “Why the fuck are you sorry, bird?”
That ghost smile graced her pink lips again. “Because, I, too, know what it’s like to be taken from everything you know.”
A loud bang on her door had me standing up, leaving her to sleep.
Opening it, the Brit was waiting on the other side, smile plastered across his face. “Vlad’s waiting, mate. Everything good here?”
Turning for one last glance towards her, I nodded, pulling the door shut. “Yeah. All fucking good.”
This new life of mine was going to prove to be a far bigger challenge than I had anticipated.
Chapter Nine
Ella - Then.
Santa Fe was waiting for the storm. A storm that we were all hoping and praying would clear the thick, humid, sticky air. I loved the heat and sun as much as the next person, but it was hot. Too hot. The Mansion was asleep, my feet were bare and soaking in the pool, the moonlight shining so brightly I could hardly see.
I never usually stayed up long after everyone else was sleeping. Tonight, however, I needed the quiet, the water on my skin, a moment away from one man who was beginning to cause so many problems I did not need.
Of course, my respite from Purgatory was short-lived.
He found me.
He always did.
Stepping from the shadows, his brown chest bare and wet from his shower, he grinned upon seeing me. He’d been such a good friend to me, and it had been nice having a male friend. I loved Marnie, with all my heart, but Marco was softer than she, calmer, and drama didn’t follow him.
Well, that’s what I'd believed in the four months he’d spent by my side.
I ignored how close his body was to mine, the smell of liquor floated through the small space between us, telling me all I needed to know. Marco was a terrible drunk.
“You alright, gorgeous?” He said, nudging me in the ribs.
I nodded, looking towards the water. “Just needed a moment, you know?”
A weird, unsettling silence devoured us. I didn’t like it; something was bothering him. Looking back, I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.
“Something you need to say?” I looked at him, his lovely brown eyes, his face that had comforted me so many times recently, and I knew that whatever he’d say next, I wasn’t going to like.
“Ella, can I be frank you with, babe? Like, flat out, no bullshit, honest?” He picked at the skin around his nails.
Nodding, I swallowed the nerves lodged in my neck. “Yes, of course.”
Taking a deep breath, each muscle of his torso flexed, and he turned sideways, his knee pressing against my hip. “I-” he began, rubbing his hands over his face. “Shit, I have no idea how to say this, babe, so I’m just going to come out with.”
Above us, the skies opened up and fat, angry raindrops splattered on our skin, and I squealed. “Oh, my god. At last!” I threw my head back and opened my arms, welcoming the cold, refreshing water.
The clouds were dark, you could see how heavy they were, but Marco didn’t join in with rejoicing. His puppy eyes bore into me, scaring me.
Knowing precisely what he was about to admit, I sighed. “Please don’t say what I think you’re going to. Please, Marco. Don’t put me in that position.”
I yelped when he climbed over me, pushing my back against the floor, his warm hand caressing my hair. I felt sick to my stomach. No. No.
His hungry eyes devoured me, gaped at my lips, and all I could do was cry. “Ella, I love you. Shit, I thought I could ignore it, well I can’t. Not anymore.”
“Marco, no-”
His palm cupped my mouth, silencing me, stifling my protests and his hips ground into the apex of my thighs. Tears fell down the side of my head, mixing with the rain that was becoming torrential.
“I know we can’t be together, I know that’s an impossibility, but one night, Ella.” He lowered his head, his lips a hairsbreadth from my ear. “Let me have you, babe, you do that, and I’ll tell you where your daughter is.”
Like a sadist, wanting to hear my audible reaction, he released his hand from my mouth to let me gasp. How could he? My heart broke for a friend I never had. Drink did not excuse this.
Crying, I tripped over my words, “Marco, no. I can’t.”
Slamming his hand over my mouth, he pushed my knees farther apart. “Bullshit, babe. I’ve seen the way you look at me, like a hungry fucking wolf. Don’t play Miss Innocent now.”