Chapter 34
Ellie
I’m on the phone to Katy and have been for the last hour.
We only saw each other the week before, but we never seem to run out of things to talk about.
We catch up on work, boys, what books we’ve read, and life in general.
She’s suggested a girl’s trip to New Orleans for her birthday so we can go and see some of the places our favorite fictional vampires hung out.
We agree to go for breakfast after our pilates class tomorrow to plan it, and I’m practically buzzing with excitement.
I hear the knock at the door and tell her I need to go. “Sweetie, I can practically hear the grin on your face. Is that Maddox waiting outside, with a bouquet of roses and a giant hard-on?”
I laugh. She is outrageous, which is one of the many reasons I love her, but she’s also probably right. Except for the roses. I don’t really appreciate cut flowers, preferring them to remain planted and in bloom. “A girl can only hope. Bye honey. See you tomorrow.”
I glance in the mirror, give my hair a quick fluff.
I don’t know why. It doesn’t bother him.
I can be made up with glossy hair, fresh out of bed, wearing a ball gown or my gym gear.
None of it seems to have any effect on how much he wants me.
He basically wants me all the time, which is the way I feel about him too.
My heart flutters in my chest as I head to the door. I really must get him a key of his own. It’s not like I don’t trust him, and I’d be more than happy for him to be at my place when I’m not here. We spend so much time in each other’s apartments, they’re practically communal anyway.
The thought has crossed my mind that one day, we might get an apartment together.
Or maybe even that beautiful Brownstone I’ve always dreamed about.
The kind we could fill with pets and children.
I think I’m ready for the apartment at least. I think he is, too.
Personally I can’t think of anything better than 24/7 access to his fine ass and his kind, calming presence.
Maybe I should talk to him about it. This is the twenty first century after all, there’s no rule that says a woman shouldn’t make the first move. I’ll just raise the subject when his mouth is in its favorite place—between my legs—and I’m sure he’ll see the advantages of shared living.
I giggle as I open the door, blushing at the very idea. “Hi,” I say breezily.
“Hi yourself, sweetheart,” comes a voice I haven’t heard in a very long time. A voice I never wanted to hear ever again. My heart bottoms out. My feet grow roots and pin me to the floor.
It’s not Maddox standing on my doorstep. It’s my father—who by rights should still be in jail.
Bile rises from my stomach, burning its way into my throat.
I feel like I’m going to be physically sick.
He looks me up and down in a way that is horrifically familiar, staring at my breasts and giving me a sneering smile.
“You’re looking good enough to eat, honey.
Been a while, huh? Not gonna invite your old pop in? ”
“No,” I manage to croak out.
I should slam the door. Kick him in the balls. Push past him and run. Call the police.
Except I can’t do any of those things. I’m completely paralyzed. The old fear I used to live with every single day is flooding through me. Suddenly I’m a girl again, hiding under my covers, praying that he wouldn’t come into my room. That he’d see I was asleep and leave me alone.
He never did. He used to perch on the side of my bed and tickle me.
Like he was a normal dad, playing with his daughter.
I was way too old for tickling by that stage, and I knew it wasn’t innocent.
It was his way of letting me know he was there, that he was going nowhere.
“Time to play, sweetheart,” he’d always announce, chuckling at my silent tears. “I know you want to.”
I didn’t want to, ever. Just like right now. I don’t want him in my home or anywhere near me. How is he even here? Why isn’t he in a jail cell in Illinois?
He sees my terror, and he enjoys it. He gets off on it. The bastard even winks at me.
He pushes past me, and I jump away from that slight contact. I have the presence of mind to at least not shut the door behind us, to not trap myself in here with him. He stands, looks around at my little apartment. The place that I’ve always thought of as my safe haven.
Time hasn’t been kind to him. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and his hair is thinning. He’s bulked up physically, though, and is bigger than he used to be. That predatory smile of his is exactly the same.
“It’s not quite as grand as I expected, sweetheart. Given that you’re fucking one of those fancy billionaires and all.”
I blink at him, confused. “What do you want?” I manage to grit out, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. Mistake. It squeezes my breasts together, and he leers at my cleavage appreciatively.
“What do I want? I just want to see my baby girl again. I want to catch up, sweetheart. I want what’s mine.”
He hisses the last word, and there he is. The real him. The reptilian monster that lurks beneath the ordinary surface. Plain, old-fashioned evil. “Nothing is yours,” I say, sounding stronger than I feel. “You lost any right to playing any part in my life when you raped me.”
He looks angry, waves a hand in my face.
Then claps his palms together, loud enough to make me jump.
I hate that I do. It makes him laugh. Sick, cruel piece of garbage.
“You and I both know I didn’t rape you, angel.
That’s just something you told the grown-ups because you felt guilty about how much you wanted your daddy to put his hands on you. ”
His fingers drift towards his crotch, and I’m disgusted to see that he has a hard-on. This foul sack of human excrement has no place here in my home. In my life. “Get out,” I say, aiming for firm and confident, but my voice comes out as a weak diluted whisper. “Leave, right now.”
“Aw, you don’t mean that honey. I think I’ll stay awhile. It’ll be just like old times.” He advances, and I turn to run. I stumble, so scared I trip over my own feet, crashing face-first into the doorframe. When I put my hand to my forehead, it comes away bloody.
He laughs again, sick twisted bastard. “Want daddy to kiss it all better, little Eleanor?” He’s coming closer, and I’m dizzy, I’m frightened, and…
My father is knocked on his ass by a tornado of muscle and fury. Maddox comes flying through the open doorway, tackling him to the ground like the star quarterback he used to be.
He clambers on top of him and punches his face with one mighty blow.
I hear a crunch of cartilage, see blood spurting.
My father holds his hands in front of his face.
Then he manages to knee Maddox in the kidneys and wriggle free.
I guess being in prison for sex crimes against kids teaches you a few dirty tricks to defend yourself.
He jumps to his feet and skips away, holding his palms out.
“I don’t want any trouble,” he says, blood pouring down his face.
“Fuck, you broke my goddamn nose…I could sue you, you asshole.”
Maddox prowls towards him, fists balled, eyes dark pools of hate.
He even scares me a little, and I know he’s on my side.
The sheer bulk of him combined with his barely-contained fury make my heart hammer so fast in my ribcage, I fear it’s going to burst out of my chest. My father backs off but doesn’t leave.
Maddox glances at me, his expression softening. “You okay baby? You’re bleeding.”
I’m not okay at all, but I’m a whole lot better than I was a minute ago, and I’ll be even better when my father leaves. “I’m okay. Just let him go Maddox. He’s not worth it.” I reach out and lay a hand on his arm.
His eyes meet mine. His nostrils flare, and I can tell how much of an effort it is for him to nod in agreement.
“So,” my father says, obviously thinking he’s safe now. “We gonna talk like civilized people, or do I got to call the cops and tell them Maddox James just assaulted me?”
I’m instantly furious. I don’t fucking think so. I’m suddenly able to access all the anger and self-belief that I wished for earlier. I forgive myself for that lapse though, because I was in shock and my past trauma ambushed me.
Now? Not so much. I square up to him and look him right in the eyes.
“Do it. Call them, right now. But just so you know, I’ll swear on my life that Maddox didn’t assault you. In fact, you smashed my head into the door, and in self-defense, I pushed you. Sadly, you fell and broke your nose. I’m guessing you’re on parole, right?”
His eyes twitch, and I see I’ve pushed a button, but he still needs more of a reason to leave.
“Maddox’s brothers are two of the top lawyers in the country.
Google them if you don’t believe me. They’ll have you locked away in the worst supermax in the States, with the words ‘child rapist’ tattooed on your fucking forehead, you sick piece of shit.
Now, what do you want? And don’t give me any bullshit about wanting to see me again, because we both know that’s a lie. ”
He’s furious with me. I’ve seen that look in his eyes before.
It used to make me cower, but not anymore.
I glare at him, feeling Maddox’s hand creep into mine, taking strength from his touch.
He’s letting me fight my own corner and I love him for it.
I know every instinct in his body will be screaming at him to protect me, but he’s giving me the space to handle this myself.
I also know that one false move from my father, and Maddox will likely crush his skull with his bare hands. I’m not going to lie. That gives me strength too, having this man by my side.
My father smirks. “I saw a picture of you in the papers. Read all about how you had this fancy new job, and this fancy new fella.” He wipes blood away from his chin and snaps his nose back into place with such practiced ease, it suggests he’s done it before.
“Then I got an early release and found myself flat on my ass, broke. Nothing to show for all those years I spent raising you and those ungrateful brats. I’m looking for a little help, is all.
And if I don’t get it, maybe I’ll go to the papers myself.
Tell them all about our daddy-daughter time together.
Give the world my version of events, huh, sweetheart?
How will that fit with your shiny new life?
Or we can settle this the easy way, and you can help your old man out. It’s not like he can’t afford it.”
Maddox strains to get at him, muttering threats under his breath, but I pull him back.
I love him so much, and I love him for who he is, not what his family can offer me.
But at the same time, I have to accept that the James name comes with responsibility.
Being part of his family means something, and I’ve exposed them to risk.
I of all people need to be aware of their reputation.
I meet Maddox’s eyes and shake my head.
“Let me think about it,” I say quietly to my father. “Leave your number and go.”
“Don’t fucking bother, asshole,” Maddox growls. “Get the fuck out before I toss you out of the fucking window.”
He scribbles his number down anyway while I cling to Maddox’s forearm.
“You’ll be in touch, Ellie?” my father asks. “Because I meant what I said.”
Maddox snarls.
I nod. “Yes. But leave now, because if you don’t—”
“Yeah, yeah. You’ll set your guard dog on me. Like I ain’t seen worse in the can.”
On that note, he finally leaves. I slam the door behind him and turn back to Maddox. Thick veins throb in his forehead and his jaw twitches. His fists are still balled, and his eyes are wild.
Then he takes one look at me, and all of that disappears.
He pulls me in his arms, cradles me, stroking my hair. “Baby, are you okay? I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you. We need to get you some better security. In fact, we need to get you out of this apartment until that sack of shit is back behind bars where he belongs.”
I cling to him, saying nothing, letting his presence soothe me.
“I’m okay, Mad,” I finally say.
“Let me see what that sick fuck did to you.” He holds me back by my shoulders and stares at the cut on my head.
“It’ll look worse than it is. Scalp wounds always do,” I assure him. “And I really did trip up and hit the door with my face. I thought it was you knocking on the door, and that’s why I opened it. Then I was so scared.”
He holds me tight again. “I’m here now, baby. I won’t let him hurt you again.”
I sniff, brushing my cheek against his T-shirt and taking comfort in the solid warmth of him, in his scent.
How nice it feels to be embraced by him.
“I don’t know how he’s even here. He has three years left on his sentence, and we’re supposed to get informed if he’s up for parole.
The victims are given the chance to make a statement, to give their views and stuff. ”
“I don’t know what happened either, baby. But it’s going to be okay. I’ll have Nathan and Drake look into it. He won’t ever get near you again. We’re also not giving that bastard a penny.”
He’s probably right, but we do need to think this through. If my father was just your average scum threatening to sell a story to the papers, no journalist would give him the time of day. Nobody likes a child rapist.
But a piece of garbage whose daughter is dating Maddox James?
That’s different. That might get some traction.
There are less scrupulous publications and websites out there that could bite.
I can imagine him pleading his innocence, saying he was framed.
That his daughter was brainwashed against him, and now the mighty James family won’t let him near her to make amends.
It could fly with the type of media who’re only interested in clickbait and sensational headlines.
I’d hate for Jamestech, or for Maddox’s family, to get dragged through the mud like that.
Truthfully, I hate the idea of it for myself too.
“I think we need to speak to your family,” I tell him. They need to be prepared for what might happen.
When I look up, he has his cell phone in his hand and he’s tapping out a text one-handed, his other arm still wrapped tightly around me. “Already on it, baby.”
I also need to tell my family. While I have some sway over Maddox, I have no such control over Keres, Ace, Romeo, or any of the Morettis.
My father is a dead man walking.