Chapter 22 Imogen
Imogen
An opportunity presented itself and I took it with greedy hands.
I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t.
Even if I don’t succeed I will at least know that I have tried to gain my freedom. And to me, that means more than just sitting back and doing nothing.
In the new clothes I blend in perfectly with the upscale New Yorkers. I’m lost in a noisy bustling crowd of thousands. While it may not be impossible to find me it’s awfully close to it.
People shove past me and I take each shuck of the shoulder with my head down.
I try to be as inconspicuous as possible. So invisible that I could easily be mistaken as the wind that gently sweeps one’s hair.
But it’s a large mall. One of seven floors and I’m not even close to the exit.
Another person shoves into me and I grit my teeth as I walk past them. Every so often I look over my shoulder. I half expect to see him. And I can’t explain the deflating sensation in my chest when I don’t.
It’s best not to think of him. Maybe if I think of him hard enough he will conjure out of the shadows like the notorious predator he is.
I would probably see that ghost of a smile he seems to only have for me. Feel his hand collar my throat, his finger pressing down on my jugular artery. I would feel myself begin to slip in the waters of his eyes and not care that I’d be drowning.
And just maybe he will claim his promise of death. Killing me with hands that are surprisingly gentle.
This. . .this is why I am trying to escape him.
There’s a strange normalcy developing between us. An unexpected comfort. And I don’t want Rico Maroni to be the man I find comfort in. He can’t be.
If I am to not fight and stay, my battle with morale will lose. I know it.
I peer behind me once more. No sight of him. As I round the corner of the stairwell red flags wave urgently in my mind.
Three men are pushing past the prongs of people to come up.
Anxiety chokes me. My steps almost falter.
Damn him. He called reinforcements.
Of course he did. This is his city after all. He had so kindly reminded me of that.
While I may very well be way over my head I know I can’t back down.
And I have to do what I must in order to survive. So, I purposely shove the people in front of me. They all fall like dominoes and take the three men down with them.
As they begin to recover I quickly dodge past them, flashing them the middle finger with a wink as I flee the scene of the crime.
I pick up my pace. A speed walk that might as well be a light jog. I would run but I’m afraid it will only cause attention.
Eyeing my surroundings I notice a few more men scanning the massive crowd. My damn red hair is a fucking beacon. For once I wish I could rid myself of it.
Perhaps I can hide away in a store. Before the men can catch a glimpse of me I enter the nearest one. A nice woman greets me and I give her a tight lipped smile with a nod of my head. Hopefully not suspicious at all.
I keep my eye on the exit as I shift through racks of clothing. My fingers linger on price tags before I move onto the next item.
The same woman who greeted me decides to make her presence known. “Hi,” she says sweetly as I comb through the rack. “Can I help you?”
Maybe she can.
She’s about my age, a year or two younger. Pink highlights with icy blonde hair. A killer jawline and the sickest tats. I mentally cross my fingers that she’s a girls girl. “I need your help.”
She catches on quickly, dropping the sales assistant persona and ready to defend my honor. “What’s going on? Need me to call someone for you?”
I lower my voice and appear a tad more skittish. “He keeps following me and I don’t know what to do.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time a perverted man harasses a woman and sadly won’t be the last,” she says with utter disdain. “Need me to call security?”
Rico might have security on his damn payroll. “No. I think if I wait him out I’ll be able to leave. I’m just a bit startled is all.”
“Well,” she says as she begins to walk backwards, “if you change your mind let me know. My name’s Kendra, by the way.”
“Imogen. And thank you.” She nods her head and returns back to work. As the time passes she checks on me. Her kindness makes me feel horrible for dragging her into my mess.
The clock on the wall has shown thirty minutes has passed. It should have been enough time to send them on a mad goose chase.
Wanting to thank her for helping me I go to say my goodbye while she’s at the register. “I think I’m going to take my chances now,” I tell her.
She quirks a concerned pierced brow. “You sure?”
I nod my head. “Yes, but thank you again for helping me out.”
“Anytime,” she replies with a warm smile. “Oh,” she says before I leave. “Here, this might help.” She hands me over a hat and a hair tie.
I smile graciously, pile up my hair in a low bun and slip the hat on.
It’s now or never.
Taking a deep breath I then set foot to continue my escape.
While the disguise helps I still feel like an anomaly.
I’ll be able to breathe easier once I get the hell out of this city.
No, when I get the fuck out of this state.
I’m not naive enough to believe I’ll ever be safe, but as long as I’m far away from here I’ll be as close to safe as I can be.
I blend in with the crowd. Keeping pace to not draw any suspicion.
Finally, I arrive at floor level. And I taste it again. The sweet promise of escape. Except now, now there’s a bitterness to it.
Don’t be ridiculous, Imogen. Rid yourself of these inane notions and don’t think of him.
Determined more than ever I start to squeeze my way past the prongs of people with an urgency. I don’t even care how rude I am as I check shoulders and trample on feet.
The exit doors are within sight. I’m so close and yet so far.
Hope blooms within me. I give a silent prayer that it doesn’t wither and die.
But the prayer is all it is. A prayer. God doesn't answer it.
Instead an arm I’ve become achingly familiar with strikes out like a viper and snatches me by the waist. It brings me to him.
The haunting scent of amber. A comforting strong firm chest. His hand encasing my throat with possessiveness.
An arm of steel banding around my torso keeps me flush against him.
I can’t fight him even if I want to.
His lips graze my ear as he says, “Did you really think you would get far?”
All the blood rushes to my cheeks. “Maybe,” I breathe.
“I’ll admit, gazella, you surprised me.”
I shift my feet causing my ass to press suggestively against his groin. His fingers flex around my throat. I feel his cock become hard. “You don’t feel disappointed.”
“Hmm,” he hums in agreement. “I’m finding you are a surprise I don’t mind.”
Before I can utter a response he flips me around. My arms are bound by his hand over my head as he cages me against the wall. Time stands still. The noise behind us silences as the people seem to fade away.
What is it that has me so entranced by him? Why can’t I free myself of it? Of him?
“You do realize even if you would have gotten far I would have still found you.” It’s more than confidence in his statement; it’s a promise.
“Have you become my shadow, Rico?”
He tilts his head, eyes assessing me. And then it happens. That ghost of a smile I can’t help but adore. “I am your shadow, Imogen.”
The twisted part? I want that.