by Lana Hartley
I don’t even get to keep my glass slippers.
I throw one of my Jimmy Choos and it flies across the room.
I don’t care about anything. Nate’s face flashes across my mind.
He’s grown up...into a man. I’d be lying if I said he didn’t still make my heart beat a little faster. So much for making sure I was unharmed.
My heart is broken in a thousand ways. But Nate couldn’t threaten his henchmen against that. He did that all by himself.
The Nathan Sharp that I knew—or rather, I thought I knew—would’ve never done this to me. When we made a pact to see each other again someday, I never imagined it would be like this.
When we were kids, my dad loved Nate. Sure, he could be hard sometimes, but dad really adored Nate, and they had kept in contact, he would’ve done anything to help give Nate a future.
I don’t know what’s worse. The way Nate betrayed me, or how he betrayed my beloved father. At least my dad isn’t around to live with consequences of knowing that his daughter’s first love was the man who killed him.
Nate might not have pulled the trigger, but he gave the order.
I don’t care about what we’ve shared, I don’t think I could ever forgive him.
So he might as well have killed me too.
But he won’t.
I recognize the look in his eyes now, when he saw me come out of the SUV. There was a connection between us as soon as we laid eyes on each other—and I know he felt it too. Nate knew who I was.
Did he know who I was when he killed my father?
My hand traces up to my neck, and I stroke my fingers over the diamond necklace that lies on my collarbone. Diamonds really are a girl’s best friend.
Right now, these diamonds are my only friend.
They remind me of Daddy. The last present he gave me.
I turn in the bed, lying on my side. My head begins to pound from all the crying, but the rest of my body is numb.
I’m not sure what time I eventually fall asleep.
But when I wake up, it’s early in the afternoon.
Someone—no, Nate—has been in here.
A selection of clothes, shoes, and lingerie hang from the wardrobe, which has been left slightly ajar for me to see. Fresh towels rest on the bench at the end of the bed. On the bedside table, there’s a lukewarm espresso and a plate of finger foods and chocolates.
My childhood favourites.
Fuck. He remembered.
The fact that he remembered my favourite food does nothing to alleviate the weight of losing my dad.
At least that’s what I tell myself. There’s something about Nate that remains unchanged. Despite my dire circumstances, I feel like I can trust him.
Don’t be stupid, Sienna. Never trust that monster.
My chest is heavy with the weight of last night. My eyes are puffy and dry, but I’m sure if I wait long enough, I’ll regain the ability to cry soon enough.
I sit up in the bed, and as I muster the energy to get out from underneath the covers, the door opens.
There stands Nate, carrying a silver tray with a fresh cup of coffee, and some water. If he’s surprised to see me awake, it doesn’t show. As his eyes dip lower and rake across my body, I’m reminded that I stripped to my lacy lingerie and never got dressed again.
I pull the sheets up to cover my breasts, so that Nate can still see the necklace at my throat. He’s not allowed to forget.
“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” I try to make my voice scathing, but my lungs are too weak.
My words come out barely above a whisper, and I have no idea whether Nate heard me. Or if he even cared.
Nate says nothing as he swaps the cold espresso for the fresh cup and leaves the cup of water on the table beside it. I’m adamant not look at him as he gets closer, even though he’s within inches of me.
As soon as Nate is gone, I take the cup of water and cradle it in both hands. My body is grateful for something cool and refreshing after a night of dehydration.
I look at the clothes hanging in the wardrobe, and then back down to my own lingerie. I can’t stay like this. When the water is finished, I wrap myself in a sheet and walk across the room.
Each piece of clothing is from a designer, and arranged by color. It’s as if Nate doesn’t realise that I’m grieving.
I pile my white lingerie on the floor, in exchange for a strappy black set. Then I slip into some Chanel trousers and throw on a camisole top. I catch sight of myself in the mirror and wipe away the makeup that’s streaked down my cheeks.
I return to the bed and look up at the flat screen TV on the opposite wall. I’m almost tempted to watch it, but then I remember that the news is probably having a field day with the death of my father, the would-have-been senator..
I don’t need to turn on the TV to relive my dad being shot.
There he is right now, behind my eyelids, falling to ground in slow motion. Reaching for me, trying to pull me back to him by sheer force of will.
My chest heaves, and I choke as sobs begin to shake my whole body.
An hour or maybe more passes, and there’s a knock at the door. I lift my head to look, but before I had a chance to tell Nate to go away, he walks into the room.
He holds a jug of water and ice and a fresh glass. He swaps the glasses without a word. As though I wasn’t even there.
His apathy to my pain hurts all the more. Because of him, I lose the rest of the day to my tears.
The next day is the same.
Somehow, I find the energy to leave the bed, change my clothes, before crawling back under the sheets and crying. At one point, Nate tries to open the curtains and let some light in, but I all but scream at him as the first sliver of sunlight falls across the cream carpet.
Nate has his henchmen send things in for me—books, magazines, and boxes of chocolates. A small basket of bath products—shampoo, shower gel, bubble bath, everything—is left within view next to the impressive marble tub.
But I barely have the energy to lift my head to drink some water.
What does Nate expect from me? To treat this as some reclusive, exclusive escape from my old life? Like I’m gonna channel Julia Roberts as I recreate Pretty Woman in his tub?
I pull a pillow over my head to block out the light that the curtains can’t stop, and I let the darkness take me.
On the third day, I wake again in the afternoon.
My head is still throbbing, but a fresh glass of water—now with ice and lemon—sits patiently on the bedside table. I sip from it as I summon the strength to leave the bed once again.
I look at the fresh towels—fluffy and somehow sparkling in the dim light through the curtains. With my free hand, I hold them against my chest as I walk towards the bathroom.
I wasn’t totally ready to stop crying yet, but my lank hair didn’t need to be another point on my list of problems.
The bath fills quickly, and fizzes with the bath salts and bubble bath that I stir in with my hand. Steam fills the room as I strip. My hands linger on my necklace, but I don’t dare take it off—my last reminder of Daddy. I sink into the water.
Bubbles cling to my skin, and my body melts in contact with the water. I drop further below the surface of the water until I’m fully submerged. The warmth kisses my cheeks and lifts the dried tears from my skin, freshening me almost instantly.
The bath feels as good as I thought it would.
Through the frosted glass window, I watch the sun set.
I’ve finished cleaning myself when I hear a knock at the guestroom door. There’s a pause, and then another on the bathroom door. Nate appears seconds later.
“Get out. Get dressed.”
There’s the barely-contained rage again. My heart flutters.
“We’re leaving.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
As I stand from the tub, covered in bubbles, Nate lingers for a moment, watching me carefully, before turning his back to me.
�
�Don’t ask questions. Just be ready. You have ten minutes.”
I wrap a towel around my body, wearing nothing but that and my necklace. Water drips onto the floor as I move between the rooms, but Nate gave me no other choice.
I hate him in this instant, but I also fear for my future.
Nate
She’s here, and she’s mine.
The warning call came with an hour to spare. Edison knows I have her—he won’t stop until his prize is returned.
I have to keep her safe.
I have to keep her.
James runs into my office. “Shaw knows. She isn’t safe here.”
Fuck. I thought I had more time.
Edison is a lazy ass. I didn’t think he would check the drop house for another week. I slam my glass on the walnut desk, the crystal tumbler shatters in my hand; water and tiny rivlets of blood flow across the surface.
“How long?” I growl to my friend.
I wrap my hand in a handkerchief from my desk drawer.
“An hour. An hour and a half, at most,” James confirms what I was thinking.
When I heard that Mr. Rose was shot in the kidnapping, I knew Sienna would be important to Edison; but I still hoped for more time. I needed more time.
“Go!” I shout to James.
We haven’t a moment to spare.
He rushes out of the room. He’ll start the evac of the staff and get Titus. They’re the only two men in LA I can trust anymore.
I make the arrangements. We’ll go to New York.
While my former employer’s grasp is deep here, it doesn’t quite stretch to the other coast.
No, the east coast is loyal to me.
Now Edison Shaw’s trust in me gives me the leverage I need—to escape. To keep Sienna safe. She doesn’t need to trust me, but she does need me.
It’s been days since she came here. I’ve counted the hours she wasted away in my guest room. I have done everything in my power to draw her out; now there’s no more time.
I need Sienna to move quickly.
I stand outside her door. Titus heard her draw a bath earlier.
Good, maybe this will be easy; maybe we can talk.
I want to talk to her. I want to tell her I’ve missed her, but there’s no time for that.
Not when we are running for our lives.
I take the handkerchief off my hand. There was one small cut, the bleeding has stopped.
I tap on the door. No answer, there never is.
I open the door, the bed is empty. Rumpled silk sheets, curtains drawn. The only change in the room is the closed bathroom door and the empty bed.
I take a deep breath. No time for niceties—I need Sienna ready to go now.
I open the closet further, grabbing an outfit, and I toss the clothes on the bed. I try not to think of Sienna putting on the black lingerie, the linen pants, the cashmere sweater.
My fingers linger over the soft fabric, imaging her round breasts through the cloth. I push those thoughts aside and toss a pair of flats on the pile.
She won’t be making any escape attempts. I won't take my eyes off her.
I’ve stalled long enough. I knock on the bathroom door.
“Get out. Get dressed,” I snap, as worry and anger creep into my voice.
She’s laying in the tub, white bubbles fading around her. I can see her lithe tan body through the foam. My cock throbs.
I force myself to say, “We’re leaving.”
“Where are we going?” she questions me.
The fire is back in her voice. She’s going to argue with me.
She stands, a goddess rising from the steam. My cock aches for her. She’s utterly perfect, and I catch myself staring for the longest moment.
I turn my back. I can’t stand here staring at her. We have go.
“Don’t ask questions. Just be ready. You have ten minutes.”
I slam the door to the guest room. Pressing my back to the cool wood, I close my eyes and catch my breath.
“Evac’s almost done boss,” Titus interrupts my reverie.
My eyes flash open.
“Good, no one knows the travel plans right?”
It’s back to work. I need to make sure none of the staff being left behind know where we’re going. Safer for them.
Safer for us.
“Standard procedure, we’re clear,” Titus confirms. “We’re getting out in time, Shaw will never find us.
My phone goes off. I nod to Titus.
“Plane’s here in LA. The chopper is too. I’ll get Sienna, you and James take the car. Make sure you aren’t followed, but if you are...” I look at him meaningfully.
“We can take care of ourselves. See you at the airport.”
Titus disappears down the hall.
It’s time. I rap on door, once sharply, then I open it. She’s sliding the black sweater over her tight tanned stomach.
“Knocking only counts if you wait for an answer, Nate,” she snaps at me sliding her feet into the black flats I set out for her.
Even while she’s fighting me, she follows an unspoken order.
“I don’t have time for your games, Sienna. The chopper’s here. Move!”
I open the door wider and gesture her towards it.
I don’t trust myself to touch her right now. My body is too keyed up. We’re in danger, and she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.
She’s better here in the flesh than in all my imaginings over the years.
She glares at me and nearly hits me in the face with her wet braided hair on her way out the door. I take a deep breath and follow her into the hall. Quiet as the grave.
Shaw’s men won’t be here for another few minutes, but we’re cutting it close.
She stands in the hall, hands on her hips, glowering at me.
“I don’t know where the fuck we’re going Nathan.”
The attitude I fell for as a kid. I nod towards her and lead the way down the hall to the elevator. Three floors up to the roof. The longest elevator ride in history.
I can smell her skin under the bubble bath. The glass elevator is suddenly too small and too large. I want to be pressed up against her, but I know that isn’t what either of us need in this moment.
I watch her breath out of the corner of my eye, the glittering diamonds mirroring her exposed collarbones catching the light with each inhale.
I catch myself breathing to her rhythm.
The soft chime sounds; we’ve reached the roof. I catch her hand, I don’t have the time or the focus to tell her to get in the helicopter.
I pull her forward, ducking the rotating blades. I practically shove her through the door.
Ignoring my throbbing cock, I fasten her seat belt.
My hands graze her curves, and I force myself to focus. I’ll keep her safe.
Handing her the earphones, I strap myself in.
“Clear,” I signal the pilot.
We’re off into the orange and pink sky. Going east, into the drawing evening, then further, to the dark night on the opposite coast.
The silence on the headphones is as deafening as the chopper noises. Sienna won’t even look at me. I don’t take my eyes off her.
I know her, I know how clever she is. She’ll try to escape, not even knowing that’s the most dangerous thing she could do. I’m the only thing keeping her safe.
We land at my private airstrip a hundred yards from the plane. Edison doesn’t know about this strip or this plane. Titus and James pull up in the black Ferrari moments after us.
“You fuckers better not have started a high speed chase with the LAPD on your way,” I call to them hustling Sienna onto the plane.
“Kidnapping you don’t blink at, but you’re worried about speeding tickets?” Sienna shoots over her shoulder at me.
I keep my mouth shut and my hand on her back. I can’t fight with her right now. I need to get her perfect ass into this plane and airborne before I can breath.
“Stuck to the back
roads, scared a chicken on the way, but no heat,” James answers me.
“Good, buckle up,” I let my friend pass me, he takes a seat.
I stay by the door, staying between Ms. Rose and the escape she’s stubbornly looking for.
She watches me now, waiting for my guard to slip. She has an almost desperate look in her eye, her hope of escaping my vile clutches is fading.
Fuck, I wish she would trust me. I would never do anything to hurt her.
“You didn’t even let me pack a toothbrush, but I guess kidnap victims can’t be choosers can they?” Sienna spits at me.
She sits down hard in a seat facing the door. Her arms are crossed, and her breath is coming fast. The fading sunset through the window flashes from her diamond necklace.
“I guess not,” I say through clenched teeth.
Titus slides in the plane and takes a seat in the cockpit. I close and secure the door.
I check Sienna’s seatbelt and give Titus the all clear.
The ground falls away behind us.
Sienna looks pale.
She doesn’t know it, but she’s safe now. My penthouse in New York is a fortress. Edison Shaw will never steal her away from me there.
“Say goodbye to LA,” I say almost to myself sitting across the plane from the girl of my dreams. “You may never come back. You’re mine now.”
I look over as Sienna shudders and tries to suppress her tears.
My heart fills. I want to take her in my arms and comfort her. I want to kiss the tears away from her cheeks.
I want her, but I can’t touch her.
She’s safe, and she is mine.
But will I ever be hers?
Sienna
You may never come back.
That’s what Nate said to me.
You are mine now.
He said it so calmly, almost so coldly. He means it.
And I think he’s right.
Maybe I do belong to him now.
Wait, what am I thinking?
I’m Sienna Rose. I don’t have to belong to any man if I don’t want to.
Maybe once, a long time ago, I wished that I was Nate’s, and he was mine…
But the man sitting across from me isn’t the Nate I remember. He’s not my first love, my secret crush. He’s cold and callous, and he doesn’t care about me—he can’t care about me.
