3. Ella
3
ELLA
S tartled, my body jerks awake.
For a year now, I’ve suffered from that free-falling feeling that instantaneously awakens you. Every morning. Because of him .
I thought being away from L.A. would have ended it. It hasn’t, and I can’t say I’m not disappointed. I hate what he did to me, to my peace of mind. My body. The fear I constantly live with.
As my pounding heart begins to slow, I stare up at the ceiling, admiring the beveled design in the paint. I didn’t notice it last night because it seems to only be present in the daylight, which shines through curtains I swore I closed before crashing. Maybe I only thought about it.
The little flowers appear to grow as my eyes move across the surface, leading to a blossoming garden. It seems impossible; maybe it’s all in my head. Somehow, it’s soothing, though, and my body gradually relaxes again.
Stretching, I toss the blanket off my body and get up, heading for the bathroom I didn’t really get to investigate last night. I spent hours swimming until my body was so exhausted I felt like I would drop.
I grab a pair of shorts and a tank top before flicking on the light and marveling at the opulence. There is white marble everywhere, with streaks of gold and silver throughout, for a design that makes my mouth water.
“Fit for a king,” I mutter.
Mr. Lorde is something else to have this as a guest bathroom. Makes me wonder what his private one is like.
Double-bowl sinks sit on a counter that spans the entire wall, with mirrors offering an expansive view of the room. The walk-in shower has more spouts than I’ve ever seen, jutting from every angle.
I place my clothes on the vanity, which needs exploring once I can afford high-end makeup and hair tools. And as I turn on the water, I toss my sleep shirt in the hamper and step inside the shower. Playing with the sprays and spouts, I discover the waterfall from above and giggle as I dance and splash around.
Acting about four years old, I play in the water, not remembering the last time I had so much fun without fear of someone plowing their fist into my face.
Sobering at the thought, a barrage of emotion hits me all at once–anger, sadness, fear, relief. I feel everything because, for the first time since meeting Blake Ramsey, I don’t have to worry about the beatings he was always so eager to dish out. The punishments he felt I deserved for the littlest infractions. Like not having dinner ready right when he got home or telling him about plans I would make with friends or family. Sleeping in after he would spend the night…
I can’t even think it, let alone say it.
Tears pour down my face, washed away by the shower spray as I drop to my knees and sob. Given the uncertainty of my future, I don’t know how I’ll ever be free of him. Blake is a powerhouse, and he won’t let me go. Eventually, he’ll find me, and I’ll have nothing to protect myself with.
I scream into the shower as I break and shatter into a thousand tiny shards of pain and terror, never imagining that someone might see me at my lowest.
“You’re free for now, Ella.” I whisper the words, attempting to convince myself that I am free. That he can’t touch me, and maybe, by some miracle, I’ll find a way to escape for good. I’ll get out from beneath his cruel tyranny before he finds me again.
I have to.
Because the alternative…forced back into his arms…it’s not an option. Not anymore. Rue and Soren set me up to vanish without a trace, and while Blake knows about the book club because, according to him, what could possibly be less harmless than a group of women reading romance. He has no idea who some of those ladies are.
Las Vegas is my new beginning. My chance to change my future, and I refuse to squander it by acting the role of a happy little housekeeper, or whatever it is Mr. Lorde will want me to do.
Scrubbing my face with the cloth on one of the bars in the shower, I get to my feet, shampooing and conditioning my hair before washing my body and hoping the bruises I can feel are hidden enough that no one will be the wiser. I can’t do much about the ones on my face, so I brace myself for those questions once I make myself known in a bit.
I don’t know when Mr. Lorde is returning, but I’m determined to make a good first impression with him, so I need to speak to Lucas about what’s expected of me and beg him not to mention the texts he nosed his way into last night.
Stepping out of the shower and into the steamy room, I wrap my hair in a towel before drying myself off with another. I slip into my shorts, pulling my tank top over my head, and go back to find my brush and a scrunchy so I can dry my hair and toss it into a bun.
I clean up the bathroom and hang my towels to dry. Making the bed quickly, I double-check that the room is the same as how I arrived. Not due to some delusional sense that I’ll be punished but because I want to be sure I won’t get myself kicked out by being a mess.
Heading downstairs, I can hear noise coming from the kitchen and find Lucas at the stove cooking what looks like a veggie-lovers’ omelet. My mouth does water now because it smells heavenly.
“Good morning.” I paste on a bright smile as he glances over at me and scowls. “What?” I deflate at his look.
“Your face is worse,” he says.
“So’s your attitude,” I clap back.
I don’t understand why I’m so comfortable being this bold with a man I barely know, but Lucas sets me at ease for some reason.
“Your mouth needs some more work, too.” He grunts as he turns back around to continue cooking.
Sliding onto a stool at the island counter behind him, I grab one of the empty coffee cups and the carafe and pour myself a cup. “Do you want some?” I ask him, hoping to keep the peace.
“Not really.” He shuts the burner off before plating the food and offering it to me.
“I can’t eat that much.” As much as I’d like to, I know most of it would go to waste. I’ve always had a small appetite.
Lucas scowls and places it in front of me anyway. He then pours himself the coffee I just offered to do for him, so I hide my hurt because it’s ridiculous.
“Eat anyways,” he says before leaving the room, the scalding coffee left behind untouched.
“That was a waste!” I call after him. He mutters something, but I can’t make it out.
A few minutes later, he re-enters the kitchen. I’ve only had a few bites of egg when another man joins us.
“This her?” He scowls at me, but his question is for Lucas.
“That’s her,” Lucas confirms.
The man, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Deadly, takes a seat next to me, reaching for the coffee Lucas poured, and sips it while staring at me. He’s seriously gorgeous. With his dark blue eyes that remind me of a midnight sky, a sharp jawline and clean beard I’d like to run my fingers through, and the way his dress shirt and pants fit him makes my mouth water for an entirely new reason.
“You’re staring,” I point out when no one says anything else.
“What happened to your face?” He asks the obvious.
Grinding my teeth, I fight back the first retort that comes to mind–telling him off–and instead go on the defensive. “What happened to yours?”
He scowls, and this thunderous look enters his eyes. “Don’t get smart with me, little girl. You won’t like the consequences.”
Why do I suddenly feel lightheaded by the innuendo of that threat?
“Neither will you.”
Pushing my plate back to Lucas, who looks amused, I get up and walk out to the pool, intending to escape through the door leading to the backyard before anyone can stop me.