Chapter 7
The elevator doesn’t move fast enough.
When I reach my floor, I push through the gap before the doors are even fully open and run to my door, but my hand hesitates to open it.
My heart skips and I briefly question my haste.
I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to push him away.
There’s a full-out battle happening between my heart and my head.
How can I let him in? It’s too soon after everything that has happened. I know I’m in a vulnerable position and he could win me over so easily. But where would that leave me in a few months or even a year? Would I be left broken and betrayed like my life pattern indicates so far?
I push forward and enter my suite. The air feels thicker in here now, no longer light and freeing, but dark and heavy with a feeling of foreboding. I need air. I need space to figure things out and The Kingdom is obviously not the place.
It’s amazing how quickly things change. I hate running, I’m tired of it, but I don’t see another way.
I won’t leave and not explain myself but right now I need to be far away from Denham King and his charms. I’ll stay in another hotel and come back tomorrow to collect my belongings and explain everything over coffee, in a public place, with a table between us.
I collect a few clothes, some cash from the safe and replace my underwear that is still lying on the floor of Denham’s office.
Once again, the elevator ride downstairs seems to take longer than I remember it doing before.
My nerves jangle at the thought of running into Denham on my way out, so I exit the elevator and almost jog to the front desk to pick up the keys to my car.
I don’t want to wait for the valet, I just want to get going.
After much discussion with the concierge at the desk about how it really is no trouble for the valet to bring my car to me, I insist that I’m more than capable of finding it myself and follow the concierge’s directions to the underground car park.
The lot is cold and deserted, and all I can hear is the sound of my own footsteps echoing around the concrete walls.
It’s well lit, but still feels eerie. Shadows bounce off every corner and I find myself nervously scanning to find my car.
When I spot it across the other side of the lot, I quicken my pace.
I get halfway across the open space before I’m halted by loud, fast, footsteps and yelling. I rush forward to one of the concrete pillars and hide behind it. My nerves are shot to bits and I just want to get out of here.
I poke my head around the pillar and see a man come flying around the corner.
He’s running as fast as he can, his head flicking from side to side as he scans the parking lot.
I watch as he frantically presses a key fob, waiting for the car to blip and alert him of its location.
It takes a few of seconds to process that I know this man.
I don’t recognize the panic on his face, but it’s definitely him.
Aaron.
I rush forward when I see him stop at my car. “Aaron” I yell. He stops dead and snaps his head up. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Nat.” His eyes soften, then he pushes a hand across his face, trying to compose himself. “Nat, fuck … I’m sorry. I just had to … the car has a tracker, and I wanted to see you, and …” He’s out of breath and his eyes are still darting around the parking lot.
I hear more footsteps approaching and look around to find Denham, Spike the barman, and two huge doormen headed our way.
“Shit! Nat, I’m sorry. I need the car … I’m sorry,” Aaron blurts before flinging open the door to the Porsche, but I push my arm in the doorway to prevent him from closing the door. I want answers.
“What are you even doing here?”
“Arianna!” Denham yells as he approaches at great speed.
Aaron pauses and appears confused as he looks to both of us, then pushes his keys in the ignition. “I'll explain, Nat. Call me, please, and I’ll explain.”
“Aaron just—”
“I can’t, I’m sorry.”
His eyes plead with me for understanding before he starts the car with a roar and drives away at speed.
The force of the car pulling away causes me to lose my balance and I stumble backwards clutching at the air and trying to find my footing.
I’m caught by big strong arms as Denham pulls me to him and holds me tight to his chest.
“What the fuck are you doing down here? I told you to stay put.”
“I—”
Our conversation is halted by the squeal of rubber and the most almighty crash. The deafening sound of metal hitting concrete bounces off the walls and Denham pulls me into his body, wrapping his arms around my shoulders until he’s sure it’s safe to let go.
We all turn simultaneously to see my Porsche wrapped around a pillar at the other end of the lot.
I stand and watch in slow motion as everything that has just happened starts to sink in.
Spike and the gorillas are running toward the now smoking car and Denham is still holding me tightly while watching it all unfold.
“Oh god, oh my god, Aaron!” I shout as I try to free myself from his firm hold. “Let me go! Fucking let me go and help him!”
“No,” he grates.
“What do you mean no? Let me go!”
I struggle as his grip tightens to contain me.
I give in and stop fighting just long enough for him to loosen his hold, then I break for it, running as fast as I can across the parking lot.
I know Denham is hot on my heels, but I have to make sure Aaron is okay.
What the hell is he doing here anyway? And why is he running from Denham?
I see Spike and Jack trying to pull Aaron out of the car.
It looks like he’s stuck as they pull frantically at him but to no avail.
He has blood running down his face and is unconscious, making it harder for them to get him out.
I try, but I can’t get there fast enough.
My legs slow as I near them, and Denham is right on me, grasping me around my shoulders and bringing me to an abrupt halt.
“D, man, it’s leaking. Get the fuck out of here!” Spike yells while pulling frantically at Aaron.
Denham starts to pull me backwards, but I dig my heels in. “Get the hell out, Spike! Jack, I’m fucking telling you to leave it!” Denham orders.
“No!” I plead “You have to help him, please.”
“Spike,” he warns.
I know I’m being stubborn and difficult, but I need to know that Aaron’s okay. He was my husband, is technically still my husband, and I don’t want him hurt … or worse. “Get him out. GET HI—”
I’m cut off mid-sentence.
Suddenly …
Deafeningly …
The car blows.
Shards of glass and debris fly through the air at lightning speed, but it all seems to happen like a slow rerun. I’m cloaked by Denham’s body as he pushes me to the hard, unforgiving ground and shields me from the blast. We hit the ground with a thud, scraping the left side of my body as we land.
Then quiet.
After that comes the sound of crackling flames and a high pitched ringing in my ears. I’m hoping and praying that any minute I might just wake up from this nightmare. Ridiculous situations only happen like this in dreams, right? But it’s not a dream.
The weight pushing me down is very real.
The crackle I can hear is my car burning.
Oh god. Oh god.
Is Aaron still in that car? Did they get him out? I scramble and fight against the weight holding me down, but it’s no use.
I scream Aaron’s name at the top of my voice until I can’t even hear myself.
“Help him … Get him out of there …” I plead.
“Shh,” Denham whispers. “It’s okay, he’s out. It’s okay.”
***
This is either a very bad dream or I'm having an out of body experience. My body doesn’t feel like it belongs to me. My legs are heavy, my head clouded and the sounds around me are merging with each other, causing a muffled drone in the background.
The sound of ambulance sirens still plays in my head. The vision of Aaron’s unconscious body being taken away as they worked to keep him stable.
I never wanted this for him. For us.
I know my legs are functioning, but I don’t know how.
It’s an involuntary movement and the direction in which I’m walking is guided by the hand pressed to me.
His large warm palm rests in the curve of my back as his fingers wrap around my waist, a source of warmth which radiates around the immediate area. Everywhere else feels cold, numb.
Detachment.
My way of dealing with trauma.
I’m good at it, I’ve had a lot of practice. I know what comes after this: tears, regret, then a strange sense of nothing as my mind blocks out the bad and moves forward.
I’m vaguely aware of the surroundings becoming silent as we exit the elevator on my floor.
I instinctively step left toward my door, but he takes my arm and leads me right, unlocking the door and leading me into the opposite apartment.
He stops briefly when we enter to turn on the lights, then shrugs off his jacket and takes my hand gently in his.
Suddenly, a new set of questions flood my thoughts. Why are we here and not in my room? If this is his, who was yelling in here yesterday? What does he want from me? Sex? More?
I can’t think clearly, and I know I’m unable to make any rational decisions right now.
“Denham, I need—”
He presses a finger to my lips, silencing me, then shakes his head gently from side to side.
“Shhh, he will be well looked after, and we’ll call the hospital in the morning if that’s what you want.
There’s nothing more we can do tonight.” He’s reassuringly calm.
His demeanor is protective and I know I can trust him.
I know he won’t expect any more than I’m willing to give.
I don’t know how I can be so sure of that, I just am.
He leads me through the lounge and I already know where we are going. The layout is the same as mine, so it feels familiar. When we enter his bedroom, he comes to stand in front of me and kisses my cheek. His lips are soft, warm and gentle.