Chapter 46 #2
“I’m sorry,” she said firmly. “There’s been a mistake. I’m not interested.” She didn’t care anymore about his power or his ego. She just wanted him gone. No job was worth this.
“I think you’re mistaken, actually.” Jenkins’s eyes flickered into the simmering rage she’d seen lurking inside him before.
He lunged again, his hand clenching tightly around her wrist. “I think you’ll find that you’re very much interested.
” He loomed over her, seeming to like her fear.
“Actresses like you are a dime a dozen, you know that? I can swap out one pretty face for another just as fast as I can break you—”
“Let me go!” She tried to wrench her wrist out of his grip, but he held her tighter, pressing in, until she felt his erection pressed against her hip.
“Eloise,” he tugged her closer, even as she struggled. “Play the game—”
She brought her knee up as hard as she could, smashing it between his legs, and he roared, letting go of her to clutch at his balls.
There was no room between the bed and the desk, but Eloise took advantage of the two seconds he spent wheezing with pain to try to bolt.
She sidestepped him, made it a whole step closer to the door before he lunged again, jerking her backwards up onto the desk, his hand gripping her throat.
His face was contorted with rage, his mouth opening in a snarl as he shoved her backwards.
Her world contracted in terror just as her hand met metal.
She gripped it and swung it as hard as she could.
The world blinked out, for just a second, then there was a brutal crash. She opened her eyes.
She stood frozen, her breath stopped in her chest, staring in horror at what was spread out on the floor before her, her brain unable to process what was happening.
Jimmy’s eyes were fixed open, staring up at the ceiling, a pool of blood slowly oozing into the carpet beneath him.
She caught sight of the heavy metal lamp still clutched in her right hand, a gleam of blood on the smashed canvas shade. It fell from her hand with a thunk.
“J-Jimmy…?” she whispered, willing him to blink, or move, or sit up, anything. Still, he stared blindly, unmoving.
She scrunched her eyes closed tightly, fighting down the urge to vomit.
Wrenching away from the sight, her ears started to ring, and her legs gave way until she slumped sickly over the desk.
She tried to open her eyes, but her vision was going black around the edges, unable to feel her hands.
She pressed her face onto the cool desk, feeling the sweat pour off her and for a few blissful seconds she let go, falling into a void of black like a welcome pool of water.
She came to with a gasp, quite sure, all of a sudden, that she wasn’t alone in the room. She turned, just in time to see Estella Grant rise up from her knees beside Jimmy Jenkins, the broken lamp in her hands.
For a moment, Ellie knew she was hallucinating. She could see them both reflected in the mirror across the room. Two Estella Grants, long golden hair, gleaming red dresses, and blood on their hands.
“He’s dead—” she heard herself say.
“I killed him,” said Estella. “It was me. I did it.”
“I—” Ellie’s brain was shortcutting. “No. I hit him. He attacked me, and I—” She looked at the bloodied lamp in Estella’s hand, the blood on her hands.
“He was fine,” said Estella, her tone icy calm. “Just… just dazed, that’s all. I saw what he did, and I killed him. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do this, Ellie.”
“I… didn’t?” Ellie was sipping on air, barely able to make her chest expand.
It didn’t make sense. She’d seen his eyes.
She’d felt the blow all the way through her body.
But then… Gio had lived. There were a few seconds she couldn’t remember; she must have passed out. Was Estella telling her the truth?
“Listen to me.” Estella put the lamp down carefully and crossed the room, her hands warm and heavy on Ellie’s shoulders, grounding her. “You didn’t do this. He attacked you, then I attacked him.”
“You’re… covering for me.” Ellie realised the truth with a sick thud in her gut.
“No!” Estella said sharply. “This is the truth: I’m a killer.
You are not. I’m already going to jail. You didn’t do this.
I did. You’ve had a shock, Ellie, and you’re not thinking straight.
Don’t—” she said as Ellie tried to look again at Jimmy Jenkins, at the violent splash of blood. “Don’t look at him.”
She led Ellie away to the bed and sat her down; Ellie slumped against her body, finally overwhelmed, too shocked to cry, to afraid to look at the mass on the floor.
She sunk her face into Estella’s shoulder, breathing in her familiar spicy scent, feeling the welcome warmth of her skin.
She felt, quite acutely, that the moment one of them moved, her life as she knew it would be over.
Estella held her tight, but in her hand she gripped a phone.
“I’m going to call Ken,” she said softly. “It’s all going to be okay, baby.”
Ellie stayed where she was, her brain stopping every time she tried to comprehend. She’d hit Jenkins. He’d been dead. You’re in shock, she replayed Estella’s words. I’m the killer, not you. She couldn’t make the pieces fit.
The door creaked open again — what the hell kind of hotel security was this — and Estella’s menacing bodyguard came in, closing the door quickly behind him. He barely glanced down at the bloodied body on the floor and nodded.
“Right then,” he said. He walked closer and looked down dispassionately, nudging Jenkins with his foot, making his body wobble.
Ellie cried out in horror. “Just checking,” he said.
He stepped over the body and turned, as if sizing up the problem.
She could smell his cologne over the metallic scent of blood and suddenly her whole body went rigid with fear.
She was back on the street outside her apartment at night, colliding with a large man, right before—
“It was him!” she cried to Estella, desperate to warn her before it was too late. “He’s the one who attacked me!”