Dad rambled about the dinner choices but all I could think was his familiarity with the menu was directly linked to his familiarity with the hotel because of his infidelity to my mother.
To our family.
My appetite died.
“That sounds good.” Colin closed his menu when I tuned back into the conversation.
“How about you, Ashlyn?” Dad didn’t blink when he said my name.
“Whatever.” I dropped the menu on the table and propped my elbows on the table edge—a dining faux pas Mother would have punished me for if I’d been a younger. Dad’s lips curved up, slight amusement flickering in his eyes.
“So, you missed school today,” Dad said. “What did you do?”
“I spent a lot of time wondering what the hell you’re doing,” I said.
Dad stiffened. Next to me, Colin shifted. Dad’s fake cheery demeanor hardened to marble. He clasped his hands on the table, but didn’t take his gaze from mine. “I understand your confusion.”
“Try contempt.” I tossed my napkin down.
“Let’s order before we discuss the matter and thereby begin the process of indigestion,” Dad said with a forced smile. I didn’t appreciate his attempt at humor, and crossed my arms over my chest. Colin sent me a glance. Handle this like an adult, I thought and I uncrossed my arms and set them in my lap like I’d been taught.
The waiter returned to our table with a nod at Dad. “Drinks, sir?”
“Bring me a scotch—straight.”
The waiter turned to Colin. “And for you, sir?”
Colin shook his head. “Water, thanks.”
“Miss?”
Dad piped, “She’s not—”
“I’ll take a virgin strawberry daiquiri, please.” I flashed a smile.
With a nod, the waiter disappeared.
“Now, to answer your question,” Dad began. “Your mother and I are separating.”
The muddled sound of dozens of nearby conversations, and the far-off clank of dishes filled the silence now sitting between us.
“Would you like me to let you two talk alone?” Colin asked.
Dad waved a hand, then loosened his tie a notch. “You’re fine.
I’m sorry this has come out like this, Ashlyn.” Dad’s voice was soft.
His eyes seemed sincerely remorseful and stayed hooked to mine.
“Sometimes, relationships are irreparable.”
My heart sunk. “I see.”
“I don’t know what your mother has told you, or what she
will
tell you, but there are always two sides to a story.”
Left wordless, I nodded.
He reached a hand out and laid it over mine for a brief moment, the contact shooting countless memories of him holding me, soothing me, caring for me through the years. Disappointment surged with sadness and I swallowed a surge of emotion rushing up my throat.
“Are you sure you can’t work things out?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Dad squeezed my hands. “Positive.”
Sadness veiled his face for the first time since the topic was opened, but I wasn’t sure if he was sad because of the failure or because I knew about it.
“You really don’t love her anymore?” I asked.
In my peripheral vision, Colin shifted and lowered his head.
Dad held my gaze without a blink. “Like I said, there’s a point where a relationship is beyond repair.”
Empty inside, my appetite had vanished along with every other emotion except gouging shock. It wouldn’t matter what I said, this disintegration had begun long before my voice carried enough weight to sway the outcome.
Dad laid a hand meant to comfort on my shoulder. “This is for the best, you’ll see.”
“Why didn’t you try to work things out before it was too late?”
The waiter, carrying a tray, arrived at the table and delivered Dad’s scotch and my daiquiri. Dad thanked him and tipped back the entire drink. Glass empty, he set it on the table, staring at it. “We waited too long.”
Emotions threatened to flood my throat and eyes. “May I be excused?” I set down my napkin.
Colin stood.
“I’m just going to the ladies room,” I said.
Colin’s gaze held on Dad’s for instruction. Dad’s attention flicked from me, to Colin, back to me. He nodded. Slowly, Colin lowered back into the chair.
Sorrow echoed deep down in my heart for Dad. For Mother.
For us.
Alone, I wove through the dining room. For the first time I was by myself in public—with Dad’s blessing, and I couldn’t enjoy it, not with my parents’ marriage crumbling. Realistically, I figured they would be happier going different directions, rather than continuing to live a farce together. Still, deep down I hoped they could live happily ever after.
Happily ever after was the farce.
Though I figured Dad would send Colin to trail after me, I meant to take a deep breath and return to the table in a timely manner so Dad could see that he could allow me freedom and believe that everything was going to be okay.
Once I entered the lobby, my cell phone vibrated. I half expected it to be Dad. But it was a text from Felicity.
U found u r phone, yay
Why was she texting me in caps?
WHERE R U I NEED TO TALK NOW
What happened?
STUFF. CAN I SEE U?
k. I’m at the Ritz.
MEET ME IN THE LOBBY IN 5
I shot a glance around the room, didn’t see her in the bodies coming and going.
On my way
LET ME KNO WHEN U R HERE
I headed for the same bathroom I’d used on my way in. I really hadn’t needed to use the bathroom, I just wanted to take a breath.
Now, I looked at my reflection, pleased that I’d stuck to my guns.
Venturing back to the lobby, I stood against a wall, inconspicuously, so I could watch the front entrance for Felicity. What had happened? Just short of an hour ago she’d been on her way to dinner with her parents. Felicity was bright and bouncy as a balloon, loose in the sky. I hoped whatever was going on wasn’t that bad.
I gnawed on my lower lip, my nerves ticking the time I’d been away from the table. Dad or Colin would come after me any second.
My hands were clammy. I was nervous for no reason. I was inside the hotel. Dad and Colin were only a few feet away. There were lots of people around.
Relax.
My cell phone vibrated again.
CAN’T COME IN
why not?
I LOOK LIKE CRAP MEET ME OUTSIDE K
My nerves ratcheted up a notch.
where r u?
SIDE ENTRANCE NORTH
.
I looked north in the lobby and saw a hall. Figuring that must be the area she spoke of, I crossed to it, smiling at the steward who’d brought our luggage up to our rooms the day before. The hall was large, long and had a few chairs scattered along the walls for reading or waiting.
The hall ended in a T formation: one direction heading back into the hotel, the other an exit that let out to a side street.
No doormen were stationed at this entrance because you had to have a room card in order to enter. Heart skipping, I opened the door. Twilight had submitted to completed darkness, and the only light in the immediate area were those beneath the striped canopy hanging over head.
I poked my head out and looked left. Cars lined the street. The nearest had its parking lights on at eerie glow. “Fel?”
I held the door open, because I didn’t have my purse—I’d left it on the chair, back in the dining room—when my phone vibrated again.
Felicity.
WHERE R U
at the entrance where r u?
I stepped onto the sidewalk, hand still on the door and a gloved palm wrapped around my mouth, the scent of leather filled my nose.
Another hand snatched and locked me against a solid, strong male body. A soggy cloth with a sickly stench was shoved over my nose and mouth. Everything went black.
My lids dragged open to near darkness. The pounding through my head felt like a jackhammer. I tried to move but my hands and feet wouldn’t budge. Panic stuttered through my limbs.
I blinked and stretched my eyes as wide as I could. Wood paneled walls. A musty smell. Mushroom-colored lamp light.
Stuart.
My heart jerked. He sat on a chair, next to the bed I was tied to—arms over my head, legs spread, bound to the iron footboard.
His eyes were fierce. His gaunt face twisted with concern and terror.
I opened my mouth but the only sound was a gravelly rasp. He reached out slowly to touch me. I tried to yank away but couldn’t.
Binding my hands was yards of fat pink, satin ribbon looped and knotted around each wrist. Ankles: same. My hands were cold, fingertips tingling from loss of circulation. I lay on a stiff mattress covered with a soft quilt, and it smelled thickly of body odor. Panic rushed through my veins. I was sure my heart would explode from my chest.
“You kidnapped me?” I finally managed to ask.
“I rescued you.” Stuart jumped to his feet, and paced. His restless hands scrubbed his face over and over. “I’m not a kidnapper.”
Why did he do this?
What is he planning on doing to me?
The thought of what he wanted sucked breath from my lungs.
Calm down,
calm down. You have your clothes on. Maybe he won’t hurt you.
I closed my eyes. Tears streamed down the sides of my face. Dad had told me if I ever found myself in a situation like this to keep calm. So had Colin. Fear killed common sense and capability. Think. Act.
I hated that I was helpless. I screamed. Pushing every last ounce of air from my lungs, I bellowed as loud as I could.
Stuart lunged, clamping both hands over my mouth. Our gazes gripped each other. “Stop screaming,” he growled.
If there was any way in this world anyone anywhere would hear me, I had to give it a shot. Screaming shredded my voice into wispy sobs. My stomach muscles bunched and cramped.
“You going to be quiet?” he demanded. I nodded. He removed his palms from my mouth.
“Let me go.”
He jerked to his feet, antsy.
“Let me go, Stuart.”
His feral gaze didn’t blink. “Quiet.” He paced again, muttering words I couldn’t understand under his breath.
Convince him you’re on his side. You can do this. You can
.
He stopped, stared like he still couldn’t believe I was there. “I saw Charles take you to the hotel and—I couldn’t let him keep you in that filthy place.”
“You knew about that?”
“Everybody knows, except you.” His breath started to skip. His face flushed scarlet. “What kind of man locks away his daughter? You would have fallen in love with me if he hadn’t hired me to work for you.”
Never.
He stepped to the edge of the bed.
Heart racing, fists clenched, I endured him stroking my head.
I closed my eyes, worked to stop the sob creeping into my chest.
Tears continued to rush down the sides of my face, but my breath slowly turned from a race to a pant.
Stuart’s hand left my head and my eyes flashed open. He headed for the open door. He wore khaki slacks, and a navy sweater—
clothes I recognized from when he’d lived with us.
I stole the moment to look around. I was in a bedroom. One window, half covered with white, eyelet curtains, pulled closed.
Paneling—the cheap kind people threw up to cover old walls.
Photos hung too-high on the wood, a decorating faux-pas Mother detested. I almost laughed that I’d notice such a thing when I was tied to a bed, my future uncertain.
My hands were beginning to turn purple and cold. Same with my feet.
Someone help me.
My eyes closed against a fresh round of tears.
There’s no one to help you. You have to get yourself out of this
.
Stuart returned with a moist washcloth. He held it out, gesturing that he was going to use it on my face. He waited for my approval. I finally nodded.
He sat and gently patted the warm cloth over my cheeks, forehead, chin. “Don’t cry. I won’t hurt you. I love you.”
My chin started to tremble. More tears threatened to burst from my eyes, but I blinked hard, fast, and steadied my emotions.
Love?
“If we’d met like normal people, you’d have fallen in love with me.”
He withdrew the cool cloth and sat back, studying me. I wouldn’t have ever found him attractive. I hated hairy, big men. Dad knew that.
Dad. Knew.
A lump grew in my throat.
“I don’t blame you for hating your bodyguards, you couldn’t see past it.”
Dad. Knew.
Urgency leapt from his voice and eyes. He leaned close. “Being together, away from that hell-hole, you’ll see your real feelings for me.” Stuart’s eyes watched me with a dreamy haze. His gaze intensified on my mouth, fingertips like feathers fluttering over the outer ridges of my upper lip, then along my bottom lip. Sweat seeped from my pores. “You’re so beautiful. I want to kiss you.” His throaty desire sent a shiver of revulsion across my skin.
Oh no. No
. But if denied him, he’d do what he wanted anyway. I couldn’t stop him. “I don’t like being tied up, Stuart.”
His fingers stilled on my lips. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He continued to move his fingers over my lips, then over my head, through my hair, skimming the base of my neck. Panic trembled through me. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured. His face neared, breath smelling of onions and the nearness caused my body to shake.
His teeth took my earlobe and gently nibbled. I turned my head, swallowing the vomit surging up my throat.
Paralyzing fear gripped my every muscle. I focused on steadying my breath, on relaxing so as to not give ravaging fear any chance to reveal itself.
“Beautiful, beautiful Ash.” His palms now made a slow ascent up my arms to my bound wrists.
“Untie me,” my voice cracked. My body shook so violently, I was sure he’d read the reaction for the disgust that it was. Too distracted by his own desire, he was deaf to my plea. I pinched my eyes closed.
The slick, stickiness of his mouth covered mine, slobbery, starved, like a hound devouring a meal.
I writhed and bucked.
CHAPTER TWENTY
And threw up.
Stuart jumped to his feet, stunned. He stared down at his clothes, at me, at the bed—now covered with my vomit.