Elena
Rafe was as good as his word. My feet never even touched the floor in the shower. He handled me like he was born to lift petite dancers in his arms, and it thrilled me to know that I was the only one he’d lift.
We finally attempted sleep when dawn was peeking over the horizon. I’d lost track of the time between sex in new positions, in different places in the apartment, trips to raid the fridge for easily consumed, energizing snacks, and talking. Talking in whispers and laughs. Talking like I’d never talked to anyone.
As dawn crept over the horizon, I knew I’d have to pee before dropping off to sleep. Rafe was already down, tuckered out by the fourteen-hour fuck fest. I might have been a virgin, but I’d heard enough around the ballet company dressing rooms to know that peeing after sex was a must for women. I got out of bed and grabbed my crutch.
As soon as I’d finished my business, I limped back to bed. Rafe looked like a devilishly sexy demon, lying against his white sheets, all tanned and dark-haired. I couldn’t get enough of staring at him.
I inched closer, about to reach out and touch him when a quiet chime sounded. A phone. I didn’t want it to wake him up. I reached for his phone on the nightstand and frowned at it. It was out of battery. The noise sounded again, and then it started to ring. Not the phone in my hand, but another phone. I glanced at mine, but the screen was black and it wasn’t my ringtone.
It seemed to come from the hallway. The door was ajar, and the sound echoed in the apartment. It was a stunning place, yet Rafe hadn’t done much to soften its strict, minimalist lines.
I hobbled out, my curiosity piqued. Maybe it wasn’t only curiosity but caution. When you’d lived as long as I had doubting everyone, or at the very least, disbelieving of a truly good situation, those fears weren’t easy to shake. The number of times I’d been let down in the past and trusted the wrong person had been huge, and with every passing year, I’d drawn in on myself and raised my walls, one by one.
Rafe had blasted through them without a second glance.
Now, the sound coming from the hall drawer made me question the wisdom of letting myself fall so completely in love with a man I barely knew.
The ringing wasn’t coming from either of the drawers that I could see. Instead, it seemed to come from inside the table itself. I knew these kinds of drawers. They opened with a hidden catch. After feeling around for a moment, I found it. The drawer clicked open, and a phone dropped out.
It wasn’t Rafe’s phone, but it was familiar. The case was some annoying picture of a speedboat. It was so awful and cheesy that I’d never forgotten it.
It was Hugh’s phone. A roaring sound filled my eyes as two things occurred to me at once. Rafe having Hugh’s phone meant that something serious had happened to him. Second, I didn’t know who had sent the threatening text to me. I couldn’t be sure.
I turned and glanced up the hall at the opened doorway, where I knew the man who had stormed into my heart and captured it without a fight was sleeping, blissfully unaware that I now knew he had been manipulating me. I gripped the phone hard, hard enough that the case with the stupid speed boat cracked at a corner. I didn’t know how to feel. There was a maelstrom of emotion inside me, and I couldn’t pick just one.
One thing I knew for sure. I couldn’t figure it out here.
* * *
Leavingthe home of the infamous Rafaelle Luciano was easier the second time than it was the first. For starters, my ankle was much better, and second, Rafe had sent the security guys away last night, jealous that they might hear my screams and moans. That’s right. That was the level of possessive, unhinged passion we were talking about when it came to Rafe. There was nothing I would put past him, and I needed to clear my head to think.
I dressed quickly in some clothes I’d had in the dryer. My phone had already been in my hand, with my torch lighting my way, and my purse was sitting in the hallway.
I dressed, shoved my hair under one of the black baseball caps at the door, and stood on the threshold, agonizing for a moment. Should I go back and demand that he explain himself? He would talk his way out of it. I already knew that. He was charming as hell, and besides, I wanted to believe him.
I suddenly felt so tired. I was tired of feeling lost and alone, and I was tired of being let down by people. I wanted to see my mother. The thought was startling in its clarity, and as soon as I thought about it, I was off, headed for the bus station.
Outside was quiet, though there was still that buzz that all hours of this city seemed to host. It never truly slept, and as I crossed the street, heading away from Rafe’s penthouse, I felt safe enough in the quiet streets. Of course, that was exactly when I shouldn’t have.
I had just turned a corner, seeing the subway entrance a few meters ahead, when something hit me hard from behind, knocking me into the wall just inside a nearby alley. My mouth filled with blood, and I felt dizzy as I realized what had happened. Someone had hit me from behind, and now, they were pulling me deeper into that alley. I dimly registered a car idling along the wall. A familiar car.
“Fucking finally. I thought you would never leave that motherfucker’s apartment,” a voice grunted in my ear.
“Hugh?” I attempted, recognizing the voice immediately.
“Yeah, it’s me, well, what’s left of me after your biggest fan took a chunk out of me. But don’t worry, Elena. You’re going to help me even the score.”