No Way Back
1000 Words
Evangeline ran down the back stairs to the workers area. Pushing open the door to her small bedroom, she stepped inside and slammed it shut.
She leaned her back against door, trying to catch her breath. She could feel her hands shaking, as she walked quickly into the attached bathroom and turned the faucet on. Scooping up the freezing water, she threw it onto her face again and again, trying to wash away the memory of his hands against her skin.
When she pulled away, she looked at herself in the small glass mirror. Her skin was flushed deep red.
I cannot stay here, she thought, her fingers gripping the edge of the porcelain sink. He has no morals. He is of the devil, and I will not let him taint me.
Walking back to the bedroom, Evangeline pulled her travel bag from beneath the bed, and tossed it onto the mattress. She moved to the wardrobe, grabbed her spare work dress, and tried to fold it. But her fingers wouldn't cooperate; they were trembling too violently. She wanted to pack everything, and get on the next bus heading straight to Lancaster. She needed to get away from here.
She reached for her small prayer book on the nightstand to pack it next. As she lifted it, a folded piece of paper slipped from the pages and slid across the table.
It was the notice from the bank.
Evangeline froze, her hand hovering in the air. Her eyes remained fixed on the ink of the bank’s stamp.
Thirty thousand dollars.
If she packed this bag and walked out of the penthouse, her employment would be terminated. The advance money she’d managed to get would be recalled immediately, and the bank would seize her father’s farm before the harvest could even be sold. Her family would have nothing, and her father would never survive the shock.
A tear slipped down her cheek, leaving a wet trail over her skin. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to force the panic down.
Forgive me, Father, she prayed silently. I will keep my head down, be obedient and do my work. I will not let him see me break.
She unpacked the spare dress, and placed it back on the hanger, then she shoved the bag back under the bed. After straightening her bonnet and wiping her face clean with a dry towel, she unlocked the door and went out to the kitchen to prepare his lunch.
Upstairs, Kylian remained bent over the edge of the mattress, his teeth ground together so tightly his jaw ached. The pain between his thighs was severe, a throbbing ache that made it impossible for him to stand straight.
He stayed there for several minutes, waiting for his vision to clear. When the worst of the pain finally began to dull, he forced himself upright and walked into his bathroom. He gripped the edges of the sink, staring at his reflection.
Nobody has ever dared to lay a hand on me, Nobody.
His immediate instinct was to call security, have her thrown out of the building, and blacklist her from every estate in the city. But as he looked at his own reflection, he realized something. If he fired her, and she went back to her community, she would leave thinking she had won. She would think her little display of morality had broken and scared him.
More than that, he was frustrated at why the thought of her leaving bothered him so much. Kylian didn't want her gone, he wanted her right here, where she would have to look at him every day and realize her judgment meant nothing to him.
He went back into the bedroom, walked into his closet and began preparing for the afternoon. He chose a white shirt, dark tie, and a tailored black suit.
Downstairs in the dining room, Evangeline had just finished setting the table. She placed a bowl of steamed white rice and boiled chicken in the center of the table. And as she set the water glass down, the kitchen doors swung open.
Kylian walked into the room. He neither acknowledged her presence nor spoke to her at all.
Evangeline stepped back, standing near the sideboard with her hands folded neatly over her white apron. She kept her chin up, her eyes fixed on the far wall, refusing to look intimidated.
Neither of them spoke. The only sound was that of his fork scraping against the ceramic plate. Evangeline felt relieved as there was no mention of what had gone down in the bedroom earlier.
Kylian pulled out his chair, sat down, and picked up his fork, eating the food quietly. His pride was deeply wounded, he kept his attention on the food, refusing to look at her.
He told himself she was just a mere servant, a stubborn, insolent girl who didn't understand how the real world worked. He would treat her like a she didn’t exist at all.
But as he lifted the glass of water to his lips, his gaze moved on its own.
His eyes drifted across the room and found her body. She was standing perfectly still in that loose dress, her posture totally rigid. Yet even with the fabric hiding her skin, his mind instantly recalled the softness of her curves on his palm. He remembered how full and wide her hips had felt under his fingers, and a sudden heat hit his groin.
Damn it, Kylian cursed himself under his breath.
He snapped his eyes back down to his plate, his jaw tightening in anger at his own lack of discipline. He forced himself to focus on the food, trying to finish his meal without looking at her again.
Evangeline didn't move an inch, but she noticed the stiffness of his shoulders. Keeping her eyes glued to the wall, she tried to steady her racing heart. The fight upstairs was over, and whatever came next would be far more dangerous.
- Writer
