Chapter 6
1231 Words
I rubbed my eyes, trying to still steady myself.
“How long was i out?” I
“Not for long.” Ellio, said
Immediately I turned to look at the time.
The clock on the wall had got to be bugging me.
“8:30” I relaxed.
“Wait 8:30?” I asked quickly. Panic begins kicking in.
Every tick felt like a hammer hitting a nail into my coffin.
8:30 p.m.
Then 8:35.
“Elliot please you have to leave”.
“Why?”
"Elliot, please…for the love of God, you have to leave," I pleaded, my voice cracking.
This time I had started pacing round the small living room, with my arms wrapped tight around my chest as if I could hold myself together by force.
"I’m not going anywhere, Eve! Look at you! You’re shaking like a leaf! Who is he?" Elliot stood his ground, his face set in that stubborn, protective look that usually made me feel safe.
But not today.
Not today.
His life was at stake now.
Today, it just felt like a death sentence.
"If that psycho thinks he can just send a box and show up at your door, he’s got another thing coming. I’ve got a tire iron in the car and….” I didn't let him finish his speech.
"A tire iron?" I let out a sharp, hysterical laugh that hurt my throat.
"Elliot, he had a gun! He has power! He owns the air we’re breathing right now! You staying here isn't brave, it’s suicide!"
"I don't care! I’m not leaving you to face him alone again."
I grabbed a handful of my red hair and pulled, just so that the physical pain would ground me for a second.
He didn't understand.
He saw a bully;
I saw a mini god with a trigger finger.
"If you stay," I whispered, stepping close to him, "and he sees you… He won't hurt me. He’ll kill you.”
“Do you want that on my head too?” I paused to breathe.
“Haven't I been through enough in the last twenty-four hours?"
That final word reached him.
His shoulders slumped, but his jaw still stayed tight.
"I'll be right outside. In the car. You texted me second…."
"My phone is broken, Elliot! Just... go. Please."
I pushed him toward the door, practically shoving him out into the hallway.
I didn't wait for him to say goodbye.
I locked the deadbolt and leaned my forehead against the wood, gasping for air.
8:45 p.m.
Then I looked at the black box sitting on the table. The "Coco de Mer" logo seemed to glow under the dim apartment lights.
Reminding me that I didn't have my free will again.
It was a brand for women who were loved, women who were pampered.
On me, it was a brand for a slave.
I carried the box into my bedroom with my trembling hands that shook so badly I almost dropped it.
Then I stripped off my oversized t-shirt, standing naked in front of my cracked full-length mirror.
I looked at the bruises starting to form on my knees.
They were ugly and…. and purple and it reminded me of the lley.
I didn't realize the tears that had formed in my eyes till they dripped down my face.
I wiped it off my face, pulled the red lingerie out of the tissue paper, and was, ready to wear it.
The silk was cold against my fingers with delicate expensive lace that formed the design on them.
It fit perfectly.
Of course it did.
A man like him wouldn't get the size wrong.
He’d probably memorized every inch of my body while I was down there in the dirt.
I looked at myself.
Red on red.
The bow in my hair. The lingerie. The flushed, terrified skin of my chest.
I looked like a gift wrapped for the devil and waiting to be served.
Ding.
My heart stopped beating.
It wasn't the doorbell.
It was the sound of the deadbolt sliding back.
My breath hitched.
I hadn't heard a key.
I hadn't heard a sound.
I walked out of my bedroom, with my legs feeling like they were made of heavy rods.
The living room was so dark, except for the light leaking in from the kitchen.
He was standing there.
Alonzo.
He didn't wear that hooded phantom from the alley this time.
He was in a suit that probably cost more than my entire apartment building.
The suit was dark, perfectly tailored, smelling of that sharp, expensive cologne that made my stomach flip.
He looked so good I wouldn't lie.
Just like a king.
He didn't say a word.
He just stood there, with the light hitting lightly on his winter-blue eyes scanning me from my messy hair down to the red lace covering my p***y.
The scar on his brow twitched a little.
That was the only sign that he was even alive.
"9:00 p.m. on the dot," I whispered, but my voice trembled a little.
I didn't know if he could hear it.
He stepped closer, the floorboards not even creaking under his weight, then he reached out, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw, to tilt my face up.
His touch was possessive, cold.
"I told you not to keep me waiting, Eve," he said, his deep voice vibrating through the quiet room.
I didn't say a word. Just looking at how he titled my face.
Then, his hand froze.
He turned his head slightly, like a predator that had caught a scent in the wind.
He looked toward the kitchen.
Then to the back door where Elliot’s jacket was still draped over the chair.
Where a half-empty cup of water sat on the counter.
And almost immediately the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees lower. "billionaire" mask still stayed on, but the monster underneath peeked from within his eyes.
"I thought we had an understanding," Alonzo said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, silky low.
"I don't like sharing my toys. And I especially don't like finding another man's scent in your house."
"He's... he's just a friend, he's gone—" I stammered trying to defend Elliot before things got out of hand.
Alonzo’s grip on my jaw tightened until I winced painfully.
"I don't care what he is. I care that he was here."
He turned his head toward the kitchen door, his voice raised just enough to carry.
"Come out. Or I'll have my men burn this building down with you inside it."
The silence lasted three seconds.
Then, the door creaked slowly.
Elliot stepped out, his face was even more pale than mine.
He has his hands balled into fists.
He didn't leave?
Has he looped back in after all my warnings?
"Let her go," Elliot barked, but I could hear the terror behind his brave facade.
Alonzo didn't even pull his gun out.
He just looked at Elliot like some bug.
I knew he was deciding whether or not to crush.
Then he looked back at me, a cruel, mocking smile touching his lips.
“Did you f**k him?"
He leaned down, while his lips brushed my ear.
"I'd give you two options to choose from. He either dies tonight, or you remind me why I should keep you both alive”
- Writer
