by Shae Banks
“Callum… Mr. Lowell, I’ve never… I’m sorry, it was an accident, I—” I choked.
“Lucky for you,” he said, cutting me off, “I can’t replace you. So, we’ll call this a formal warning and make sure it doesn’t happen again, shall we?”
Even if I had anything to say I couldn’t have, the lump in my throat was still choking me. Instead, I nodded my head and bent to pick up my bag.
“Are you able to get home safely?” he asked as I turned for the door.
His sudden change in tact surprised me, but I was in no mood to reciprocate.
“I’ll be fine, thanks,” I croaked, walking straight out using the guest entrance.
Chapter Five
The key in the lock set my nerves jangling. I could hear my pulse in my ears as the door slammed shut.
He was early. It was only six pm, and he usually arrived after seven.
I had two choices, and there wasn’t time to make a decision. I had to either whore myself out again or face whatever punishment he would present me with when I told him not to touch me.
My stomach turned over and bile rose in my throat at the sight of him.
“Hello sweetheart,” he said, shrugging off his jacket and laying it on the arm of the chair by the door.
I curled up tighter in the corner of the sofa and chewed my thumb nail as I looked at him.
He took a step toward me, and I finally managed to speak. “Stay back. Please, Johnathan, I can’t… I don’t want… I want you to leave.”
“We’ve discussed this, Bekah.”
I shook my head. “No. You’ve discussed this. I keep asking you to go and you don’t. I keep telling you I don’t want this. and you do it anyway. I don’t know how else to make you see—”
“Throwing boiling soup over my wife got my attention.”
My eyes were stinging again. I looked away.
“You’re lucky she didn’t have you fired, you know,” he said, sounding amused. “She’s still complaining.”
It had been three days since the mess, and I was due back in the following night. Christmas and the new year were done, and it was business as usual. I was hoping Mr. Lowell was over his anger at me.
New year, new start. That’s what I’d been telling myself.
“It was an accident. Will you leave now, please?”
Shaking his head, he sighed. “You really want to throw all this away?”
I shrugged. There wasn’t much to lose. Not now.
“If you do this, there’s no going back. I won’t come back.”
I finally looked up at him. His voice was calm, but his eyes told a different story. He was fucking furious.
Knowing he had my attention he pulled back his shoulders, drawing up to his full height, and I lowered my feet to the floor. “I’ll pay full rent as of Friday, I’ll increase the standing order now.”
He moved, swinging his jacket back on, and I flinched but didn’t look away. His lips twitched slightly, and he reached inside, removing a white envelope. “New contract. The rent went up in September. It’s five hundred and water isn’t included. There’s also a service charge, bringing it to five twenty-five.”
He extended his hand, offering me the envelope. Forcing me to get to my feet.
I was still wearing my work clothes, black leggings, red polo top, and trainers, and he looked me up and down as I stood up. He’d never looked at me like that before. Like I was beneath him. Like I was some common little scrubber he was forced to deal with in the name of collecting money owed.
I supposed that’s exactly what I was.
He kept his hand extended, challenging me to take it and despite my anxiety I got to my feet and stepped toward him.
He opened his mouth to speak, and I snatched the envelope, tearing it open and reading the new contract. My eyes stopped at the number. It was half of my monthly income. I didn’t know how I was going to afford to live, but I needed a roof over my head. My own home. I wasn’t desperate enough to go back to my parents. I couldn’t stay in their house.
Edging around him I move to the small hallway and reached into my bag. Clutching the pen in the side pocket I pushed the paper against the wall and signed my name before turning back to Johnathan.
He was right behind me.
My heart was thumping in my chest and a chill ran down my spine as he closed the small distance between us, trapping me there between him and the wall.
Then he took the contract from my hand and tore it clean in two, letting it fall to the ground. “You think it’s that easy?”
My head swam as my body flooded with adrenalin, and I watched his hand come up to my face. I braced, expecting a slap, but instead he gripped my chin and tilted my face up, forcing me to look into his eyes.
“Nothing is that easy, Bex.”
His mouth crashed against mine, and I gasped, then tried to shout a protest but he was so much bigger than me. Stronger. He thrust his tongue into my mouth, probing, while his free hand gripped my waist, pulling my body into his.
I struggled. I raised my hands and slapped his shoulders and chest, but all that did was spur him on. Then his hand left my face and grasped my hair, pulling my head back farther, giving him better access.
My scream was muffled, but it came, tears with it, but my protests went ignored until bile rose in my throat and I retched. That was enough to make him pull back, looking down at me with a sneer.
My legs gave way, but he didn’t let me fall, my hair tearing at the roots, a thousand pin pricks on my scalp. I cried out. In my head, I begged and pleaded with him to let me go, but I couldn’t form the words to make him understand.
Then he dropped me.
I fell to the floor, a sobbing mess of hair and tears, trying to swallow the bile that threatened to spill onto the floor.
He didn’t move, and I couldn’t look at him. But I could struggle to my feet.
Using the wall for support, I made for the door fully expecting him to stop me.
I reached for the handle, but still, he didn’t react.
Without looking back, I wrenched it open and staggered into the lobby, sucked in a breath and ran.
Gravel crunching beneath my feet I counted the steps as I raced away from him. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let him use my body. The thought made me feel nauseous. I was worth more than that. Sleeping with someone, having an affair, was one thing, I’d loved him. He’d said he loved me, but what he was doing to me wasn’t love. He hurt me. He wouldn’t accept my refusal.
How had it come to that? How had I allowed myself to fall into such a mire? He was controlling and forceful. They weren’t actions of someone who loved me. That was the behavior of someone who owned me. I was bought and paid for. His own little slut.
My stomach twisted, and I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat.
All I could think was if I could get away, if I could stop him from touching me this time, he’d get the message.
I was at the gate when he finally let me know he was following.
“Bekah, come back,” he called, feet disturbing the gravel outside the building.
I ignored him, making for the alley that connected the road with the housing estate opposite mine.
About halfway down was a gate leading into a field. I ran for it, pushing it open, and made for the edge that was shaded by bushes and trees. The ground was muddy with the heavy rain of the last week, so I knew he wouldn’t follow me, but he could cut me off at the other end. I kept going, not looking for his car as I reached the exit gate and ran across the road and into the estate.
I didn’t consider where I was going. Away from him was enough. Not even the rain could stop me as I fled toward town.
There would be people in town. I was safer in town.
When I finally reached the bottom of the hill, I slowed, gasping for breath and soaked to the skin. The cold didn’t bother me. It was welcome. It gave me something to focus on as I walked past bars and pubs. There was no sign of people,
the heavy rain keeping them indoors, but I heard them as I passed. Laughing, living, happily passing the time until they returned to work the following week.
I walked on, eventually finding myself at the harbor. It was quiet here and dark. I could be alone with no risk of anyone bothering me.
In daylight, and when it wasn’t raining, the harbor was beautiful. Three long piers stretch out into the Irish Sea, the now defunct lighthouses standing sentinel at the ends. I finally stopped by the lighthouse on the southernmost pier and sat down.
It was then that the cold really began to bite.
I sat here, wet, cold, and alone until the rain stopped and the sky cleared. Until I could see the stars. I didn’t know the constellations, but I could make out the shapes and distinguish what I thought could have been Mars.
I vaguely remembered something about Mars being a sign of anger. Of conflict. That made sense. Of course, Mars would be blinking down on me.
My thoughts were interrupted by the yapping of a dog. I didn’t look around. Whoever it was would turn around and leave soon enough, so I ignored it.
The yapping grew louder until it was right next to me. I looked down to see a small spaniel wagging its tail and barking at me.
Its owner approached at a jog, hastily attaching its lead and said, “I’m sorry, he doesn’t usually… Bekah?”
My stomach lurched.
Of all the people to find me here it had to be him. I wasn’t ready to go over the hell of New Year’s Eve yet, that was tomorrow’s torture, but it seemed I was about to be forced to relive it sooner.
The dog had stopped barking and was looking up at Callum Lowell with its tail wagging excitedly.
I got to my feet and made to walk away, but he stepped in my way. “Bekah, what happened?”
I don’t know what it was, maybe the concern in his voice, maybe the fact that he’d taken off his jacket and was wrapping it around my shoulders, maybe I was just done running, but I lowered my head and let the tears fall. I didn’t know I had any left.
“Come on, you need to get dry before you catch your death.”
I let him put his arm around me and lead me off the pier. I went. Not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t have the strength to argue or anywhere else to go.
Chapter Six
He led me to one of the new apartment blocks that had been built on the harborside. They didn’t fit with the architecture of the old buildings that stood there for hundreds of years, and a lot of people said they were an ugly stain on the picturesque town. I didn’t agree.
He didn’t say anything as he led me to the second floor, the little dog scampering ahead. In the light of the stairway I saw it was a black and white cavalier King Charles. That explained the yapping.
We reached a landing with three doors, and he paused.
“I need the other key. It’s in my pocket, can I get it?” he asked. He spoke softly. Carefully. As though he knew precisely what had happened and didn’t want to frighten me.
I nodded, and he cautiously reached inside, took his keys, and unlocked the nearest door.
“The living room is straight ahead. Sit down, I’ll bring towels.”
“Who lives here?” I asked.
He gave me a small smile. “I do.”
That was news. I always assumed he lived above the hotel.
Turning my mouth down in the corners I raised my brows at his back. I let him go inside first, I followed silently, and closed the door behind me. Then I removed my shoes.
Everything I was wearing was soaked through, but they were still caked in mud from the field and his hall carpet was cream. Not a good combination.
Callum had vanished, but I could hear movement and did as he’d said, moving further into the apartment looking for the living room.
It wasn’t hard to find, the hallway opened into a large open-plan kitchen and living space. There was a large corner sofa facing the left corner of the room where a large TV sat. To the right of that was a pair of doors which opened out into a balcony overlooking the harbor.
He’d told me to sit down, but I was so wet I didn’t want to soak his sofa, so I stood there huddled in his coat and waited.
The dog came first, speeding past me and making itself comfortable on a small wicker bed in the corner. Then I heard footsteps.
“Okay. I have towels, and I found some shorts and a T-shirt for you to wear while I dry your clothes. The bathroom is back there, first to the right. Dry off, get changed, and I’ll make you a hot drink.”
He stopped in front of me, holding out the stack of items. “If you want to shower, feel free.”
He sounded nervous. I wasn’t sure why.
“I should go.” I said, turning away.
He put his hand on my shoulder, and I flinched involuntarily.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. Shit… umm…” he said as I turned around and looked up at him. There was a sadness in his eyes I’d never seen before. A regret I was in that mess.
Pulling back his hand he stepped away. I wanted to say it was okay, but it wasn’t. I wasn’t.
Without a word, he walked past me again, I assumed into the bathroom he’d mentioned, and came back empty handed. “It’s all in there. There’s a dressing gown on the back of the door.” He paused, eyes scanning my face. I don’t know what he was looking for, but he took a step back and said, “I don’t know what happened, but you’re safe here. I don’t want to harm you, Bekah. I’m trying to help. Let me help. Please.”
I couldn’t answer. I just shrugged off his coat and handed it to him, then walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
I emerged clean, warm, and wrapped in a robe several sizes too big. I carried my wet clothes wrapped in the towel I’d used.
“Thank you.” I said, standing just inside the living room.
Callum was in the kitchen. He looked up from whatever he was doing and smiled. The sadness I’d seen earlier was gone. He was more like the Callum I’d spent Christmas night with. “You’re welcome. If you hand me those I can have them washed and dried in a couple of hours.”
I looked down at the bundle in my arms and nodded, then watched him walk toward me.
He was wearing jogging pants, a T-shirt, and was barefooted.
He stopped a couple of paces away and held out his hands.
I wasn’t sure why he was keeping such a distance.
“If you tell me where, I can do it myself.”
He shook his head. “No. Sit down. Will you be okay with carbonara?”
I frowned.
“Or I can make something else?”
I shook my head. “You don’t have to.”
He took the bundle. “You’re right. Please, sit down, I’ll be two minutes.”
The room was massive compared to my little flat. The whole thing would probably have fit inside this living space alone.
I did as he asked, perching on the edge of the sofa and curling my toes into the plush carpet while I waited for him.
The little dog joined me, jumping up and snuggling into the fluffy robe I’d borrowed. I rubbed his head absentmindedly as I looked at the pictures on the walls.
Most were familiar. Local landmarks, some from further afield but still iconic in their right. Several showed the lakes and fells, one was of the harbor right outside the windows.
“Tea?”
His voice startled me in the silence of the room, and I turned sharply, disturbing the dog. “Water, please.”
He nodded his head and opened a fridge, pulling out a filter jug and poured me a glass. I got up and went over to the kitchen, and he pushed the glass toward me over a solid wooden worktop.
“Thanks.”
His smile was more relaxed, and he watched me take a sip before asking, “Carbonara, then?”
I shrugged, and he gestured to a high stool that was pushed under the worktop before busying himself retrieving pancetta, eggs, cream, and cheese from the fridge. I watched as he prepared the sauce, surprised at how
simple he made it look. Eventually he asked, “Want to talk about it?”
I shook my head. “Wouldn’t want to bore you.”
“Boyfriend trouble?”
There was no humor in my laugh. “Yeah, something like that.” Then I added, “Thanks for… Well, you didn’t have to…”
“I wasn’t leaving you out there.” I nodded and looked away. “Do you need me to call anyone? Parents? Police?”
I know how it must have looked, and honestly I’d thought it was going that way myself, but it hadn’t, so I didn’t see the point in reporting the whole mess. “No. It’s not… I wasn’t… I’m okay. I was just…” I sighed. I couldn’t explain. It was a clusterfuck whichever way you looked at it. “No lasting damage done.”
He nodded and went back to cooking. I went back to my thoughts.
We ate in silence. I didn’t manage much, I hadn’t really eaten in days, and it didn’t take me long to feel full.
When I put down my fork and spoon, he looked at me and frowned. “You’ve lost weight.”
It struck me that it was an odd thing for him to say. My boyfriend hadn’t noticed or cared. Why would he?
“You noticed?”
He shrugged, sliding from the seat opposite me and collected up our plates. “I’ve noticed a few things different about you recently.”
When he had them scraped clean, he placed them in the dishwasher and said, “I’ll get those clothes in the dryer. If you need to grab a few hours of sleep, you’re welcome to use the spare bedroom. There’s a lock on the door and a phone by the bed. It’s the second room on the right. No view I’m afraid.”
I wanted to ask why he was being so kind, but just thinking about how nice he was being to me choked me up.
When I didn’t respond, he excused himself and went down the hall again. I didn’t know what to do with myself. The stool wasn’t particularly comfortable, and my back was beginning to ache, I assumed from running so far when I didn’t usually perform any form of exercise. Listening, I heard him opening and closing doors and then the low hum of a tumble drier. I got down from the stool and went back to the sofa. The dog was still where I’d left him, curled up asleep, and I sat down beside him and stroked his head.
