Authors: Rebecca Rohman

Uncorked (8 page)

Detective Carter flipped the bag
over so they could read the paper,

STAY
THE FUCK AWAY FROM CHELLA.

THIS
IS JUST A SMALL DOSE OF WHAT I’M CAPABLE OF.

THIS
IS A GENTLE WARNING.

“It was wrapped around one of the
bricks he sent through the doors.”

“This is completely out of hand.”
Chella said, her voice edged with frustration.

“Mr. Mariani, I’ll give you the
same advice I gave Ms. Noon. Be careful. Watch your back. He’s doing this
because he’s having a hard time getting to Ms. Noon. ”

“I’m concerned about Chella’s
safety. I can take care of myself.”

“Ms. Noon, I’m not telling you
this to scare you, but this man is very, very dangerous. I really don’t think
you should be alone.”

She looked at both Mitch and the
detective but didn’t respond.

The situation was
quickly becoming more
complicated than it had in the past. Before, Chella would move and she’d be
okay for a few months to a year. But within a space of two weeks, there had
already been two incidents. If the police were having a hard time finding
Aaron, no one could tell how many more of these incidents there would be.

They left Mitch’s office and took
a drive to make sure they weren’t being followed. For the first ten minutes
they drove in complete silence.

Chella broke the silence by
saying, “I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of always looking over my shoulder.
I’m tired of worrying about people I care about. I’ve had enough.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Maybe I should go back home or
maybe another country. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Chella, what’s this about?”

“Mitch, it’s about everything.
I’m starting to understand why all these men ended things. I can’t believe
you’re even driving me home. I’m sure there was at least $10,000.00 worth of
damage at your office tonight because I’m in your life.”

“Those are just things. They’re
replaceable.”

“And how long do you think it
will be before he starts moving on to things that aren’t replaceable? Like you
or your family or your employees. He obviously knows where you work now.”

“I can put measures in place to
make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“You can’t always plan for what
you don’t expect. Right now, that man is a ticking time bomb. Nobody knows
when, where, or how he’ll strike next.”

“Running away isn’t going to
solve anything. What if he follows you?”

“Then at least he’ll be away from
the people I care about. Right now that’s more important to me than anything
else.”

“Including your own safety?”

“Yes.”

They arrived at the hotel.

“I’m going to park the vehicle
and come with you to make sure your room is safe.”

“Okay,” she said. She was
deflated. On the elevator ride up to her room, neither said anything, despite
the fact that they were alone.

“Give me your
card key,” Mitch said as they
arrived at her suite.

She handed it to him, and he
opened the door. “Wait here.”

He thoroughly checked the suite,
including the bathroom and closets. When he was done he told her to come in.

“Double-check that these are your
bags and nothing was slipped into your room.”

She glanced around. “Everything
appears to be fine.”

He’d become so worried about her
as they drove home. The adamant, stubborn woman at his penthouse a few hours
earlier was completely gone, replaced by a completely dejected woman.

“Chella, I’m worried about you.”

Chella pulled something
from her drawer and headed into
the bathroom, “Yeah, I’m worried about me too, and about all the people in my
life. Mitch, just forget about me. Go home, get up tomorrow morning and pretend
you never met me.”

She returned to the living room
wearing a black tank dress. She had kicked off her heels and was fiddling with
a few things on the desk as Mitch spoke to her.

“You’re being silly.”

“Am I, really? Do you have any
idea what it feels to sleep with one eye open all the time? Or to constantly
look over your shoulder or move somewhere and—just when you start trusting the
people around you a little—you leave without so much as a goodbye? You have no
clue how dangerous this man is or how much he’s taken from me. When he hurts
someone I care about, it hurts ten times more than if he did it to me. Mitch,
I’m tired. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“What did he do to you?”

“He’s taken everything away from
me, everything. My sanity, my peace of mind, my friends, even my parents to a
certain extent. Just a normal life, all the little things everyone else takes
for granted. The only thing he’s managed not to ruin for me is my job. That’s
it!”

“You underestimate your friends.
They’d all support you. I support you. I want to be there for you so badly, but
you seem hell-bent on pushing me away.”

“And that’s for your own good.”

“I can take care of myself, and
if you’d let me, I could take care of you.”

“No. Sooner or later you’d just
end up resenting me for it.”

“That’s not true,” he said,
walking toward her.

“What happened tonight is
one-tenth of how nasty that man can get, and I’m not going to stay in your life
and let you see the other nine-tenths. I can’t handle that right now.”

“You’re letting him win.”

“You think this is about winning?
This is about my friends going to lunch and not having to worry about being
followed. Or you going out for cocktails and not having to worry about your
office manager calling to tell you your business has been vandalized. Or
ordering take out and not worrying about whether your food has been tainted.”

“What about you? What about your
wants and your needs? How about meeting a man you like, falling in love, having
a family? What about that? What about you?”

She burst into tears, “He’s
already taken all that away from me. Because of him, I can never have my own
family. Because of him I can’t have children.”

Mitch looked at her, holding her
by her shoulders, “What did he do to you?”

“When I got pregnant, he demanded
that I get an abortion. When I refused, he pushed me down a flight of stairs
two months into my pregnancy. I was unconscious and hemorrhaging for hours
before he took me to a doctor.”

Mitch closed his eyes.

“Instead of taking me to a proper
doctor, he took me to a black market abortionist with pair of stirrups and a
dirty scalpel. I was unconscious. I couldn’t stop him or fight back. He scarred
my uterus. I’ll never be able to have children.”

“Chella, I’m so sorry,” he said,
pulling her into his arms.

She closed her eyes, trying to
contain herself. Her pulse beat rapidly in her chest. Tears burned her eyes. As
she remembered weeks leading up to that day, the images overwhelmed her, instances
she might have had an opportunity to change the outcome. But she was young,
inexperienced, trusting.

She remembered the day Aaron took
her virginity in the pool house of his parent’s Rancho Santa Fe home. Things
were fantastic until six weeks later when Chella missed her first period. She
was afraid and turned to her closest friend, Aaron. He went ballistic. That was
when she started to see a completely different side of him. He spread rumors
that she was sleeping around. Soon after, she noticed him drinking with his
friends regularly. She told no one else she was pregnant.

One day Aaron wrote her the
sweetest letter, telling her how sorry he was and how he wanted to make things
right. She met him after school to visit a doctor together. He told her he
would take care of everything and make it better. When Chella noticed they had
driven outside of San Diego County and the scenery looked out of the norm, she
questioned him. He was sweet and told her to trust him.

The building where they stopped
looked old and run-down, somewhere she would ordinarily never go. But she was
young, naïve and gullible, so she trusted him. At an office a few floors up,
the doctor explained the procedure. That was when Chella understood what Aaron
meant when he said he was going to make it all better.

Chella fled the office. Aaron
followed her out and a nasty argument began. He demanded she get the abortion,
told her his father would kill him if he knew he had gotten her pregnant. He
told her that if she loved him, she’d do it for him, and if she didn’t do it
willingly, he would force her.

She ran for the nearest exit. He
caught up with her inside a stairwell and pinned her to the wall. She cried and
begged him to let her go. For a second he did, but when she started down the stairs,
she heard him shout, “Have it your way, bitch!”

He pushed her down seventeen
concrete steps.

She awoke five hours later,
alone, scared, in a forgotten alley in a strange city. Her jeans skirt was
soaked with blood. She had no clue where she was, so she ran into a nearby
Asian store. The female cashier let her use their phone. She called the only
people she could count on: her parents. While she waited, the woman let her use
their bathroom and gave her a clean coat and hot tea. When they arrived, Chella
told them what had happened. They took her straight to the hospital where she
found out the baby had died, and she would never be able to have kids.

Mitch held her
in his arms as she wept, his
shirt soaked. It killed him that there was nothing he could do to take away the
pain in her voice. Images of what he’d do to Aaron Stewart if he ever met him
flickered though his mind, none of them pretty.

Mitch took her in his arms,
carried her to bed, and held her while her cries subsided to quiet sobs then sleep.
He finally understood her pain and why she’d built up a wall so high around
herself. He understood why she felt so tired, so hopeless, like she had nothing
to give and nothing to live for. Perhaps this was what she needed, to talk
about it and let it out. She was not in any condition to be left alone, so he
pulled the covers over her, dimmed the lights and watched her sleep.

Mitch must have
dozed off at some point, because
when he opened his eyes, it was morning. Chella was still fast asleep. He slipped
out of bed, quietly closing the door behind him. He arranged to have breakfast
sent up to the room, as well as a bouquet of pink tiger lilies. He wasn’t sure,
but he suspected they might have been her favorite flowers because she had a
book about them on the coffee table at her old place. He hoped there were extra
toothbrushes in the bathroom and was pleasantly surprised to find two. He
freshened up and checked on her, but she was still fast asleep. Moments later,
the food and flowers arrived.

After he shut the door, he heard
movement in the bathroom and then in her room. He wasn’t sure if she realized
that he never left and didn’t want to scare her so he gently knocked on the
door.

“Chella, it’s Mitch.”

“Come in,” she replied.

She sat on the corner of the bed,
eyes swollen.

“I wasn’t sure if you knew I was
still here. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Thanks for staying last night.”

“I was glad to. I got us some
breakfast. You hungry?”

“Maybe just a little.”

“Would you like me to bring you
something?”

“No, I’ll come out.”

Mitch wasn’t sure what to say to
her. He had never experienced being with someone while they went through such
emotional pain, almost like a complete emotional breakdown. He simply took her
hand and led the way to the dining room.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to
eat, so I got a bit of everything. The flowers are to make you smile.”

Her eyes brightened. “They’re my
favorite. How did you know?”

“The book on your coffee table.”

“They’re beautiful, thank you,”
she said, bringing them to her nose and taking in their fragrant scent. Thanks
for breakfast.”

“No problem. Can I get you
anything else?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks,” she said
as they both sat and started to eat. “I’m sorry I laid all that heavy drama out
on you last night.”

“I’m not sorry you told me, but
I’m sorry for what you’ve been through.”

“I guess that’s just life,
right?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Have you ever spoken to anyone
about this?”

“My parents, the day they died.
That was the last time I spoke about it.”