by Emerson Rose
My fucking damsel in distress syndrome is about to lay me out flat. I don’t need to tell Marcus; he knows what’s happening to me long before I do. I recoil when he brings his hand under my nose producing an ammonia capsule.
My senses are overwhelmed with the sharp smell, my head clears and I cough.
“Come with me. Now.” He pulls me out of the booth along with him and helps me stand. He moves in close behind me and out of nowhere I see Elijah standing right in front of me.
He grabs my hand and leads us to the far wall of the club near the bar.
“What’s going on?” I whisper. I know he said not to speak but I want to know what the hell is going on.
“Quiet, just move,” he says, pushing me along with more intensity.
Twenty feet later we have made it to a door that takes us into a long dimly lit hallway with doors lining both sides. Elijah produces a key and opens the first one on our right and shoves us inside. He leaves and I hear a click from the other side.
I don’t like this. Not one bit, and I refuse to keep quiet any longer. “What the fuck is going on?”
I whirl around to find wild angry eyes shooting daggers back at me and my heart sinks. I back away until my back is flat against the door we just entered through. What in the hell was Elijah thinking locking me in a room with Marcus unprotected?
Sixty-Three
“I’m sorry I raised my voice. Are you OK?” he says, not sounding sorry at all.
I may not be able to defuse the situation but I’m sure as hell going to try, my life may depend on it.
“Sit,” he says, pointing at a large bed in the center of the room. I begin to follow the wall around the edge of the room staying as clear of him as possible but still moving toward the bed as instructed.
“I’m scared, Marcus.” Maybe if I admit that right off the bat I’ll be sure of which Marcus I’m dealing with.
“That makes it so much better.” A smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth but it’s not the one that electrifies my core and makes my heart skip a beat. This smirk makes me nauseous. This is not the Marcus I love.
Elijah, why? Why on earth would you abandon me here with this monster? I continue to make my way to the bed while Marcus’s wicked eyes follow me.
I take three quick steps from the wall to the bed and perch on its edge, unsure of his intentions. He begins a leisurely approach and I feel like a cornered animal being stalked with no hope of escape.
I find my voice and decide to try again but with less attitude.
“What’s happening out there, Marcus? Why were we rushed back here?” He stops walking and I see confliction flash in his eyes.
“Nothing out of the ordinary, little one. I have a lot of enemies. I torture and kill people for a living and sometimes those people have loved ones who want revenge. No worries, though, my pretty. They never get what they want. I always win. And it seems tonight you’ve been offered up as a sacrifice.”
My blood turns to ice in my veins and I instinctively begin to shrink away from this horrible Marcus look-alike. I scoot away from the edge of the bed and my shoes fall off onto the floor. I dig my heels into the mattress and move until my back is pressed against the padded headboard
“What do you mean by sacrifice?”
He starts toward me again and my heart plummets. He’s going to hurt me. I can see it in his eyes, and he’s planning on enjoying every second of it.
“Oh lovely, I’m given playthings all the time in exchange for sparing a life. A stupid boyfriend who owes more than he can pay back to me will give me his girlfriend to save his life. I’ve even had a man give me his own wife. Sick, isn’t it?”
He laughs and the fear racing through my body is more than I can take. I’m going to faint again and I can’t decide if that’s good or bad. He looks like he’s standing at the end of a tunnel stretching far away, then my hearing fades and then nothing.
For the second time tonight, my nose is assaulted with bitter ammonia, and I gasp and open my eyes wide to see Marcus hovering over me with a bloody lip and black eye.
I’m shivering, and I can’t move my arms or legs. I’m naked and tied to all four corners of the bed I fainted on and we aren’t alone. I let my head fall to the right where I feel someone tugging at my wrist. It’s Elijah, and he’s working furiously trying to free me.
What the hell happened after I passed out? I look around the room that I had assumed was a bedroom but it’s much more than that. It looks like a torture chamber.
My arms and legs are being held in place with restraints that are built into the bed frame. Above me are metal tracks with dangling chains and leather cuffs. What is this place?
“Baby, I’m sorry, are you OK? Are you hurt?” I feel his hands skimming over my bare skin softly searching for injuries but he doesn’t discover any.
Elijah releases my hand, and I bring it into my body covering my exposed breasts. I don’t know where to look, at Elijah who is working on my foot now or into Marcus’s confused eyes.
It’s obvious my Marcus is back but what did his evil half do to me while I was unconscious?
“God, baby, please, please, forgive me. I’m so sorry. I don’t remember… I... I…”
Elijah pushes Marcus hard, “Help me get her free. You can apologize later. We’ve got to get her out of here before they come back,” Elijah hisses.
Marcus face clouds with anger but he follows Elijah’s orders, jumping in to free my other arm. The two men release me and I curl into the fetal position with my back to Marcus. I tuck my chin to chest and close my eyes tight. This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening.
“Get her dress,” Elijah barks, and I hear them shuffling around the room, gathering my clothes.
Marcus touches my shoulder but I flinch and roll away to the opposite side of the bed where I jump into Elijah’s arms.
Every muscle in Elijah’s body freezes and I feel his chest expand with a breath that he doesn’t release. I look back at Marcus across the bed. His eyes are huge, his jaw clenched, and his hands are balled into fists at his sides. He’s enraged.
“You had to know she would be afraid of you, Marcus. Remember what you just tried to do to her and get her dress!” Elijah shouts.
I curl myself into his body, tucking my forearms against his chest and burying my face there. He circles my back with his arms protectively.
“That wasn’t me,” Marcus says.
“I know but it’s kind of hard for her to sort that out right now, and we have to get her out of here.” I can’t see him but I feel Marcus hand my dress to Elijah.
“Come on, honey. Let’s get you into your dress, okay?” He gently pushes me back a step and holds out the dress for me to step into.
I flash Marcus a warning look over my shoulder to make sure he keeps his distance. His eyes reflect an immeasurable torture. It’s killing him to see me in another man’s arms. And to add salt to the wound his name is scrawled all over my body where he claimed me as his hours before.
The autographs are all smeared and smudged in an ironic representation of our relationship. Things with us always start out beautifully written and full of passion and love but, inevitably, we end up streaked and defiled.
“What’s happening, Elijah? Why did you leave me here? Who are we running from?” I ask with my hand on his broad shoulder as I step into my dress. He keeps his eyes trained to the floor and when he stands he closes them until we are face to face.
He looks me directly in the eyes and I extend my arms so that I can slide them into the long sleeves of the gown. He turns me by my shoulders and zips me up.
“We don’t have time now. I’ll explain in the car.” Marcus is a few feet away holding my shoes out for me.
“It’s OK, Imani. He’s OK now. You can trust him.”
Oh no, I can’t. I hop forward, snatch the shoes and move behind Elijah to put them on. Marcus opens the door and we file past. As always, Elijah leads me and Marcus brings up the rear.
“This way,” Elijah says, taking my hand to pull me along. He forces me into a trot that hurts my feet in these heels. At the end of the hall, a door swings open. I gulp in the cold night air and wrap my arms around my torso. Without my coat, the Italian winter wind feels glacial. An unfamiliar limousine pulls up to the curb and a door flies open. Elijah shoves me inside and follows. Marcus slides in on the opposite side and we pull away with a jolt.
I don’t even have to ask what’s going on again before Elijah begins.
“Imani, there are people here in Milan who have no idea Marcus has lost his memory. We were worried about one of them discovering our presence tonight and as it turns out they were well-founded concerns. I’m so sorry I left you alone. I had to make sure you were safe from them and I didn’t have time to separate the two of you. Mr. Black was following two men and Lizbeth and Carmen went after three others. I... I... didn’t think. Fuck, I can’t believe the horrible timing. I’ve failed you twice and that’s inexcusable.”
I turn my attention to Marcus, who is staring out the window at the city flying by, elbow propped on the door molding with his chin resting on the back of his hand. He is lost in thought.
“Marcus?” I say timidly, reaching out to bring him back from wherever he is. He turns to me dazed with glassy eyes brimming with tears and a little piece of me dies inside.
As scared and apprehensive as I am there is no doubt that he is suffering equally.
“What happened?” I whisper.
“I don’t know, I swear. I blacked out and when I realized what was going on I must have… God, Imani, I don’t know what I did… will you ever be able to forgive me?”
“Yes.” I answer with no sign of hesitation.
He raises his eyes to mine. “What did you say?”
“I said yes. Although, just like before, there is nothing to forgive you for. It wasn’t you in that room. I fainted; I don’t even know what happened.”
“Nothing happened, Imani,” Elijah interjects sharply,
“I found him when he had just finished tying you up. We fought until something shifted and he realized what he was doing.” Marcus reaches to touch my shoulder and it’s all I can do not to flinch at his touch.
“Marcus, how is your vision?”
The shoulder touch was directly linked to his loss of vision before and I’m struck with the realization that he may be backsliding again.
“Why?”
“Just tell me, are you seeing clearly?” A long pause follows the question and I lace my fingers with his on the seat between us to encourage him to answer.
“It’s dim, no peripheral vision.”
I reach deep down to the reserves of my ability to clinically and not emotionally assess situations and I begin to voice my summary of the night.
“So, we were in danger just showing our faces tonight. And we were almost attacked. Marcus, you had a setback with your vision and another personality change or black out, whatever. The threat was frightened away and, Elijah, you fought with Marcus, knocked some sense back into him and I lost my underwear. Does that sum it up?
I alternate looking at the two surprised men. We need to move away from the seriousness for a minute so I can regroup.
“Right?” I say.
“Uh, yeah, right,” Elijah says.
“Yes, if you say so, that’s it,” Marcus says.
“Okay then, no harm done. We’re all in one piece and going home.
You have some serious explaining to do about that club, Mr. Castillo.” I turn my attention from him to Elijah.
“And, if he can’t remember, you will fill in the holes, got it?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Okay, then. Good.”
Marcus pinches the bridge of his nose between his eyes and sighs deeply.
“You’re amazing,” he mutters.
“I know,” I say, relaxing into the leather seat preparing for the long ride home.
The dark countryside that I missed seeing on our way to Milan blurs by as we travel back to the house on Lake Como. I keep trying to remember what happened back there. How the hell have I gone from being a simple single nurse, working shifts and relaxing with my friends and family, to being autographed head to toe, tied up spread eagle naked and passed out in a sex club in Italy?
It’s insane. Absentmindedly, I begin to run my hands over my body checking for injuries. Nothing is out of order but the action doesn’t go unnoticed and I feel two sets of eyes on me.
The facade I’ve been keeping up is cracking and if I don’t play this right I’ll lose all credibility. I know being strong for Marcus is essential to convincing him that he needs treatment and I’m so close I can’t lose my grip now.
“Did I hurt you?” I turn to him and his usually sharp green eyes are dark and encompassed in pain. As always, when I see him suffering, my heart constricts.
“No, of course not.”
“You were checking, though.” Tiny familiar frown lines appear across his forehead and he reaches for my hand, I grab on tightly.
“I’m chilly, that’s all.” I’m the shittiest liar. His frown deepens and he doesn’t believe that line of crap but he pulls me close wrapping me in a blanket of pure Marcus: his smell, his touch, his warm breath in my ear.
“Don’t lie to me, baby. I know you. Sometimes I like to give you the opportunity to be honest. I may not have control of what’s going on in my mind but in yours I stroll effortlessly down your quaint cobbled paths, feeling and experiencing exactly what you do.” I don’t respond but let that seed be planted and as it grows it dawns on me that changing anything about Marcus’s mind could sever the invisible connection between us.
Not only could his old personality return but he could forget me; the magnet could be reversed. His ability to read my mind could be stripped away with the tumor.
“You’re worrying again, relax.” He begins to massage my shoulders and I’m instantly limp; my chin falling to my chest I moan in appreciation. I don’t even care that Elijah and Mr. Black are in the car.
I close my eyes while his strong fingers dig into my neck and shoulders. This would feel so much better if he were actually touching my skin instead of the sequin covered gown I’m wearing but it is better that I’m covered. When our skin meets, my control goes out the window and I’m not sure I’d even care about Elijah or Black being in the close quarters of this car.
“That’s better, baby,” he whispers into one ear and then he switches to the other, “Don’t ever leave me.”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to. My life is fed by yours, and without you I’d starve to death.”
Silence falls between us during the trip home, he finishes my neck rub and I cuddle into his side dozing off and on until we pull into the drive of the Castillo Estate.
I’m gathered onto Marcus’s lap; he swiftly exits the car cradling me in his arms. The cold night air takes my breath away and I think of the beautiful coat I left behind at Dominus.
“The coat was real; you wouldn’t want it back. I lied. You looked so beautiful in it, though, I couldn’t resist.” He pecks me on the forehead smiling while we cross the threshold of the front doors.
“I wore poor little animals who were raised in cages for the soul purpose of being slaughtered and made into a stupid coat?”
He tightens his embrace and smiles down at me shaking his head.
“You put up with me and my health problems, personality changes and bodyguards but you’re pissed about a fur coat?” He’s right. In the scheme of things, this is really not important.
“Well, I’m glad we left it then.” I pout and slide my fingers around his neck and up his nape into the soft thick waves of his hair. I drop my head back exposing my throat fully aware of where this will lead us.
In this moment, I forget about people out to get us and the blackouts, the sex clubs and brain tumors. I need what I need, and right now I need Marcus to take me away to our land of private ecstasy where nothing can
touch us and no one else exists.
Standing in the foyer, he gazes down at me while our shadows file in behind us and close the door against the cold. Keeping his eyes locked with mine, Marcus begins to exit the room, still carrying me in his arms he orders the men to lock down the estate and under no circumstance should they disturb us. Well, not under most circumstances anyway.
He easily moves through the house but not toward our bedroom, in fact I have no idea where he’s taking me. I want to ask where we are going, I’m still nervous about his more frequent mood changes, but I know Elijah won’t let anything happen to me again; he’s watching.
We move down a hall toward the rear of the house and begin to descend a staircase. I smell chlorine about halfway down, the pool.
He’s such an athlete but I haven’t gotten to experience this side of him with all we have been dealing with since, well, since always.
“Swimming, you do swim, yes?” he asks.
I smile, “Of course I swim, and I’m surprised you don’t know that.”
“Why?”
“You seem to know everything else about me.”
“True, I do. I never came across any history of swimming lessons in my investigation so I wasn’t sure.”
“Investigation? You’ve been stalking me, Mr. Castillo?”
“Well, I’d hardly call it stalking. How about we call it research? That’s a better word than investigation.”
We enter a spacious room with stone walls and beautiful mosaic tile flooring. The chemical smell of chlorine assaults my nose now and the warm heavy moist air is almost difficult to breathe.
He hasn’t even broken a sweat and he isn’t the least bit out of breath when he sits me on the end of a chaise lounge. He squats directly in front of me sliding his hands inside the slit of my gown onto my thighs. I inhale sharply and panic surges through me.
“Why no purple here?” I blurt without thinking and look around the room at the mostly blue decor.
“I, ah, I don’t remember.” He shakes his head and pulls the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth in one of his rare displays of insecurity.
