Chapter Sixteen - Joshua
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Joshua
If I had to write a book about my life, I’d title this chapter, “What the Hell Was I Thinking?”
I wish I could say that having Elise call her dad is some strategic play meant to give me the upper hand, but it’s not. All I know is that her eyes—which are constantly plagued with sadness—lit up when I mentioned her father, and I didn’t want that light to fade.
“I’ll be there to monitor, of course, but Elise”—I leave no room for misunderstanding in my cold tone—“if you do something stupid, I’ll take away every freedom and leave you restrained in your room, understand?”
“Yes! Yes, I understand!” She seems to have no qualms about submission now.
I stand and—for reasons I can’t explain—hold out my hand to her. The most addictive thrill runs through me when she accepts it without hesitation—as if she trusts me.
Not that I’ve ever given her a reason to.
Once we’re in my office, I lean against the front of my desk, and Elise sits in one of the chairs.
The phone I’ve designated for calls with Gabriel Consoli sits on the desk, and I pick it up, fixing Elise with a stern glare.
“Anything out of line and—”
“And you’ll leave me restrained in my room, I know.”
I press my lips together to suppress my amusement. Now isn’t the time to let her think she can get comfortable.
“Watch it,” I warn.
An enthusiastic nod replaces the witty retort I expect.
She must really want to call her dad.
This better not come back to bite me in the ass.
I dial the number, and the room buzzes with her excitement as we wait. Seeing Elise’s smile and the anticipation in her eyes floods my chest with a satisfying warmth. It feels unbelievably gratifying to put a smile on her face after being the cause of its absence for so long.
She picks at the hem of her shirt, eyes never leaving the phone that I place on the desk beside me.
He answers after two rings, and Elise’s eyes gloss over, though the harsh words of her father are meant for me.
“What do you want, you sick son of a—”
“Dad?” she says, her sweet voice starkly contrasting his gruff one.
“Elise? Elise, baby girl, tell me that’s you.”
Her lip wobbles, and she nods as if he could see her. “It’s me.”
“Are you okay? What has that bastard done to you? Is he there now?”
“I’m”—she pauses, eyes flitting to mine as she searches for the right words—“I’m alright. And yes, Joshua is here, but he’s not hurting me, Dad. I’m okay.”
My fist clenches when I realize my mistake, and judging by his pause, Consoli catches it, too. Even Elise’s eyebrows pull together as understanding dawns on her.
She clears her throat. “How are the boys?”
My eyes narrow in a deadly warning to not mention anything about Mason, and Elise lowers her head submissively.
“Worried. We all are,” he says with a sigh. “Baby girl, I’m so sorry. You were never meant to get caught up in this. I tried so hard to keep you safe.”
When Elise lifts her head, a tear slides down her cheek.
“Dad.” Her voice breaks on the word. “You did keep me safe. This is all my fault. I should’ve listened to you.”
“It’s okay. I love you so much, Elise. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
More tears.
“I love you too, Dad. I’ll see you soon.”
“Now, let me talk to that bastard.”
Elise walks to the window, burying her face in her hands, shoulders hunched forward. The sight sends a wave of guilt over me, but I repress the emotion.
I take the phone off speaker and lift it to my ear. “Consoli.”
“Keep your hands off my daughter,” he sneers, each word said as a lethal threat. “Do you understand me?”
I’m tempted to inform him that I’ve put more than my hands on his daughter, but for Elise’s sake, my answer is a simple, “I understand.”
He ends the call.
Elise’s quiet sniffles are the only sound in the room, and after a few moments, I clear my throat. “Would you like to go back outside?”
Her only answer is the shake of her head.
“What’s your problem? I thought you wanted to talk to him.”
Her exhale is an exasperated sound. “Just take me back to my room.”
Any satisfaction I felt from her joy dissipates in an instant.
Minutes ago, she’d been thrilled by the idea of talking to her father, but now that she has, she refuses to even look at me. I’m suddenly reminded why I’ve never attempted to make a woman happy.
They’re too damn confusing.
“Turn and face me. Now.”
She obliges with a vicious glare. “Just take me to my room.”
Whatever patience I had dissipates.
“You want to go to your room? Fine by me.”
I’ve taken one step toward her when her eyes widen with understanding, but it’s too late. I effortlessly pick her up, throw her over my shoulder, and storm out of the office.
“Put me down!” She punctuates her request with a round of beatings to my back.
I roll my eyes at the wasted energy.
“Joshua! Put me down, or I swear—”
I squeeze her thigh just hard enough to get her to shut up.
“Another word, and I’m tying you to the bed again,” I warn.
She groans dramatically but refrains from hitting me again.
When we get to her room, I type in the code with ease and toss her carelessly onto the bed. I cross my arms over my chest and tower over her.
“What the hell is your problem?”
She has the nerve to roll her eyes.
I reach to unbuckle my belt, and Elise brazenly shoves at my chest. “You! You’re my problem!
What did you expect? A thank you for letting me call my dad?
You’re the one keeping us separated in the first place!
But you know what? Thank you. Thank you so much for letting me talk to my father one last time before you kill me. You’re so generous, Joshua!”
I slip my belt out of the loops and squeeze the buckle until my knuckles turn white.
This is what I get?
This is what it looks like to try and make things easier for her?
A waste of time.
“You’re right,” I say, voice deadly low. “I am generous. Do you know what normally happens to my prisoners, Elise?”
She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t breathe.
Her glare falters when I take a menacing step forward.
Good. She should be afraid.
“You’ve been here for what? A week and a half?
By now, you’d be starved to the point of constant pain, but not enough to kill you.
You’d have absolutely no forms of entertainment or human interaction.
You’d be nothing but a shell of a human, and that’s if I decided not to torture you within an inch of your life first.”
Her eyes say what I know she never would—that she knows I’m right. She knows I’m capable of doing all of those things to her.
I wait for the begging, the groveling, the apologies, and promises to be more cooperative.
I get none of them.
Slowly, she rises to her knees on the bed, staring up at me with perfect sincerity.
“Then do it.”
She must be out of her damn mind.
I close the distance between us until her hands are pressed to my chest, and I work to ignore how good that feels.
I firmly grip the back of her neck and force her gaze to remain locked on mine.
“You think I won’t?” The question is practically a growl, but she doesn’t so much as flinch.
“I think you could, hell, maybe you should,” she whispers. “But no, I don’t think you will.”
The words cut deep, and I wish I could tell her she’s wrong, but I’m not sure she is.
My grip on her neck tightens, but she doesn’t resist me. In fact, her whole body seems to mold to mine, somehow relaxing despite my aggression.
The reaction both thrills and infuriates me.
For the second time today, I find myself bewildered by the level of trust she seems to have in me despite all I’ve done to her. Yet, here she is, leaning into me, staring into my cold glare with wide, hopeful eyes.
It forces me to imagine a world where I’m worthy of that trust—a world where I bring Elise comfort and peace.
But that’s not how this ends.
I will break Elise long before I could ever make her mine.
The sobering thought draws me out of my head, and I release my hold on her.
“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper, taking a step back in an attempt to gain some clarity.
“Doesn’t matter?” She scoffs. “Of course, it matters! Why am I different?”
I turn from her, taking measured breaths as I methodically slide my belt back into place.
The blankets on the bed are pushed aside, and light feet pad against the floor. “I deserve to know.”
Can’t she see how messed up this is? She should be cowering in fear when I walk into the room, not melting into my body and pleading with those big, innocent eyes to know why I do the things I do.
I should be in my office on a meeting with the capos at the Sacramento base—focusing on things that actually matter—not having garden lunches with the prisoner I can’t stop thinking about, no matter how hard I try.
And I have no one to blame but myself.
I gave her a nicer room, I let her bargain freedom, I joined her for meals, and I let her call her father. I should’ve left her to rot in a cell like I do every other prisoner I have ever taken.
But that was never an option, not with Elise.
Even now, as furious with myself—and her—as I am, I know there’s no world in which I treat her like any other prisoner.
She’s not any other prisoner.
Elise is strong-willed but unashamed to shed tears. She’s reserved but determined to stand her ground even when she knows she won’t win. She’s tender—both physically and emotionally—but absolutely resilient.
When her fingertips brush my arm, I recoil like her touch is a white-hot flame.
“I don’t know, Elise! You’re right, okay? There’s no logical reason why you’re different, but you are. For some reason, I don’t want to hurt you!” I bark a laugh, and the sound is chilling. “But apparently, it doesn’t matter anyway, so maybe I should just treat you like the rest.”
“He thinks I’m coming home,” she whispers, her voice as fragile as glass.
I don’t answer, but my eyes open to find her arms wrapped around her midsection as if she’s trying to hold herself together. Her anger melts away, leaving a hopelessness that I can practically feel radiating off her—the raw ache of losing her family, her freedom, and her life.
“I told him I’ll see him soon, and I won’t. The last thing I ever said to my father was a lie.”
The urge to pull her into my arms is so overwhelming that I dig my fingernails into my palm to keep myself in place.
“I never disobeyed my father, ever. The one time I blatantly ignored him was when I had you over for dinner. If I’d just listened to him…”
“Don’t give yourself too much credit. Your agreeing to dinner didn’t make my plan possible, only easier.”
“Oh yeah, that makes me feel so much better.”
“All I’m saying is I would’ve taken you either way, so there’s no point in dwelling over something that was inevitable to begin with.”
“And why do you care what I dwell over?”
“Because I’m the one who has to hear you complain about it,” I snap.
Her jaw drops. “You’re kidding me, right?”
My fingers pinch the bridge of my nose. “I miss when I thought you were shy.”
“I miss when I thought you were Hayden.”
I breathe a laugh and let my lip twitch upward.
Just like that, the tension in the room breaks, and it’s like a weight has fallen off my chest when I see that Elise, too, is sporting a faint grin.
A knock at the door steals my attention, and I move to open it, finding Ryder on the other side.
“It’s time to go, Mr. Moreno.”
“Go ahead. I’m right behind you.”
He nods, and I let the door close.
“Why do I call you Joshua?”
I’d been expecting this question since the call with her father. It had been a rookie mistake on my part to leave that out of her instructions.
Since I don’t want to kill the light mood we just achieved, I answer, “Well, it is my name.”
I can see the desire to roll her eyes, but miraculously, she doesn’t.
Not that I would’ve corrected her.
“I mean, how come you don’t make me call you Mr. Moreno like everyone else? Tripp made a comment about it, and my father seemed thrown off, too.”
I slowly close the distance between us, debating my answer. I could say that I wanted her father to see the influence I have over her or that she won’t live long enough for it to matter.
I lift a hand, placing it gently against her cheek—a striking contrast to my rough grip on her only moments ago—and tell her the truth.
“I like my name on your lips.”
Her pupils dilate, and my heart squeezes at the sight, but it doesn’t feel so uncomfortable now.
Almost… pleasant.
Before she can respond, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and leave the room.