Vote Then Read: Volume III

by Aleatha Romig

  “No can do, little lady.” The police officer with his heavy belt whispered to a colleague, nodding to something said on the radio clipped to his lapel.

  He smirked at Nameless. “According to reports, you were seen beating up two men earlier tonight. They said they found you about to rob and rape a young woman, and they tried to stop you. For their troubles, you almost broke one of their cheekbones and cracked a rib or two.”

  “Bullshit.” My kisser bared his teeth. “I was the one trying to prevent them from doing that.” He cocked his chin at me. “That’s the girl they were trying to hurt.”

  The officers and security guards all raised an eyebrow. “Is this true, ma’am?”

  I shrunk a little but nodded. “Yes. He saved me.”

  “Saved you?” The officer coughed. “Saved you and then brought you to a closed park to do what?”

  I swallowed. “I’m very aware of how this looks, but he’s right. We met when he saved me. They—they were going to hurt me.”

  “And he would’ve hurt you if we hadn’t appeared.”

  “No, that’s not true.”

  “You don’t know him like we do, miss.”

  A police officer came over to pat me down while another patted my savior’s body. My heart stopped when they found the eighty dollars in his hoodie pocket.

  “Didn’t rob you, huh?”

  “That’s mine, fuck face.” Nameless fought against the handcuffs.

  “Of course, it is,” the lead officer said. “How many times do we need to tell you, lying only makes it worse for you?”

  I froze.

  How many times?

  How many times had he faced situations like this?

  I tried to catch his eye. To apologize. But he kept his glare on the officer who pocketed the eighty dollars. The money that could’ve bought him a better meal and a roof for a night.

  Another person arrived on the scene, his heavy footsteps familiar even before he appeared in the flashlight glow of the security guards. I should’ve known he would turn up. He had a police scanner and had most likely been looking for me ever since I didn’t call for him to drive me home.

  My shoulders rolled, wishing I could melt into the concrete and disappear.

  He flashed his credentials I knew stated him as ex-marine and in the employ of myself and my father. David Santos, my driver, bodyguard, sometimes personal assistant.

  Shit.

  He threw me a quick glance then focused his intense black gaze on the lead officer. His barrel chest, large arms, and black suit that matched his ebony skin soaked up the night. “I’m here for Ms. Charlston. She’s done nothing wrong.”

  The police officer standing beside me argued, “She’s been caught trespassing—”

  “Wait.” The lead agent stepped forward, shining light onto my bodyguard’s identification. He then beamed the flashlight at my face. “What did you say her name was?”

  “Charlston. Noelle Charlston.” David ground his teeth. “Ring any bells?”

  I was grateful he was here, but I didn’t want him to fight the battles I’d lost.

  “David, it’s fine—”

  “Be quiet, Ms. Charlston. Let me handle this.” He stood taller, his gloved hands clenching. “From Belle Elle?”

  The lead officer stiffened. “Wait, Joe’s daughter?”

  “The one and the same.”

  The officer paused.

  A second later, he ordered, “Release her.”

  Instantly, the handcuffs were unlocked, and I was pushed forward. I shot to the side of the man who’d saved me, kissed me, and given me the best birthday night out I could’ve asked for. “What about him?”

  An officer laughed. “Oh, he’s coming with us.”

  “But you—you can’t. He saved me. He did a good thing. Don’t punish him for jumping a fence and enjoying a park.”

  The officer smirked. “Oh, we’re not arresting him because of that.”

  I couldn’t look away from Nameless’ face. My lips ached to kiss him again. His eyes roamed over me, full of the same tender affection and almost awestruck attraction from before. I had to be near him until I figured out what this meant. What this was between us.

  They can’t take him away.

  “Then why?” I demanded, living in daydreams of taking him home, giving him the guestroom to shower and rest, cooking him blueberry pancakes, and introducing him to Dad in the morning. “He hasn’t done anything.”

  The officer’s laughed as if all in on a joke I hadn’t heard. “He’s done plenty.”

  “He has multiple outstanding warrants. Tonight is our lucky night.” Jerking Nameless to his side, the lead officer added, “He’s going away for a long time.”

  Nameless merely hung his head, his jaw working with a violent edge.

  “You can’t do that.”

  The cop’s face drew with annoyance. “I think you’ll find we can, Ms. Charlston. Now, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll go home with your guard here and forget all about this one.”

  He shook Nameless. “Say goodbye because I doubt you’ll be seeing him again.”

  I moved forward—to do what I didn’t know. To kiss him, run away with him—somehow fix this, so it didn’t end this way.

  He smiled sadly. “Do what he says, Elle. Go home.”

  “I can’t go. Not without you.”

  “You know the way now. You don’t need a guide to walk you.”

  I shook my head. “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

  He chuckled. “You said it yourself. It was too crazy to be true.”

  I ached to grab his hand, to hug him, but with so many pairs of judging eyes on us, I froze. That would be one of my biggest regrets in life. That I didn’t reach out when he needed me the most. “Please…tell me your name. I’ll get a lawyer. We’ll fight these stupid claims.”

  “All right, time’s up.” An officer marched forward, grabbing Nameless around the elbow and dragging him away.

  Tears sprang to my eyes. Uncertainty and fear spiraled at the thought of never seeing him again. “Please! What’s your name?”

  Nameless stumbled from another shove, his gaze never leaving mine. He looked sad and pissed and lost and resigned. So many emotions all at once. “It was fun while it lasted.”

  “Tell me!”

  But he merely gave me a harsh smile, trying to mask the grief on his face. “I really enjoyed kissing you, Elle.”

  And then the officer turned him away and marched him into the darkness.

  10

  THE DRIVE HOME was one of the hardest things I’d ever lived through.

  David didn’t say a word; he merely drove with iron concentration and astute silence. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t ask for a report from the police. He just escorted me from the park as if I’d come out of Belle Elle like a normal evening after work.

  He didn’t comment about how I’d been caught with a man. He didn’t speak at all apart from to tell me to be careful climbing into the backseat of the Range Rover Sport.

  Pulling up to the brownstone where I lived, he cut the engine and jumped out. A moment later, he pulled open the door for me and nodded in the darkness. “Have a good night, Ms. Charlston.”

  “Thank you, David. You too.”

  I didn’t ask if he’d keep this to himself. My father would know. I wouldn’t be able to keep my night-time wanderings a secret. But at least neither of them would know about the alley and how I’d met Nameless.

  He nodded again and hopped back into the Range Rover.

  I kept my chin high even though my heart sputtered at the thought of what would happen to Nameless. Was he in prison now? Would he go to trial? What sort of warrants did they have?

  My questions would have to wait because the second I climbed the steps and entered the home I was raised in, my father grabbed me in a boa constrictor hug.

  “Oh, holy hell, Elle. Where the bells have you been?”

  I couldn’t even rib
him for his weird expressions tonight. I squeezed him back, drained and confused, lost and sad. “I’m okay, Dad.”

  “You ran away!” He pulled back, disappointment and hurt bright in his eyes. “Why would you do such a thing? And on your birthday, no less.”

  I shrugged out of his embrace. “I didn’t run away.” I kicked off my sneakers and padded into the living room where hints of my mother still existed everywhere. From the pristine cream linen couches to the white gauze draped around the window bay. A baby grand piano sat in the corner next to the ornate fireplace while knickknacks from my parents’ travels littered side tables and coffee tables in a cluttered but designer way.

  My piano lessons flittered into my head as my fingers played an imaginary chord, giving me something to focus on when all I wanted to do was burst into tears.

  Dad followed, throwing himself into his overstuffed chair that’d long since compacted and wrinkled from his weight. “Where were you, Elle? You say you didn’t run away, but you were found in Central Park. At one a.m! Do you know how dangerous that is?” His eyes cast over me. “And what the hell are you wearing?”

  Damn, David had already told him.

  I looked at the black bomber I couldn’t unzip; otherwise, he’d see my torn top and bruises. My skinny jeans smeared with dirt and chocolate. I was so far removed from the daughter he knew. The daughter who lived in fashion catalogs and had nightmares of Christmas sale stocks being too low. I shouldn’t be daydreaming about a man who tasted like candy or a kiss beneath the stars on a baseball field.

  Had that really happened?

  Was it real?

  I sighed, knowing I had to grovel before I could ask what would happen to Nameless. “I’m sorry, Dad. I—I wanted to see what the world was like for someone who wasn’t an heiress.”

  He sucked in a breath. “Why?”

  “Because I’m nineteen and never explored the city on my own. Because I’m running a billion-dollar company and never been to a party or gossiped with girls or kissed a boy.” I looked up, pleading with him to understand. “I wanted to be normal…just for a few hours.”

  He sighed.

  Silence fell as he reclined heavily into his chair. Whatever anger he had blew itself out.

  That was my dad.

  He rarely exploded, and when he did, it didn’t last long. Guilt sat even worse because now his anger had gone, his second-guessing and regret burrowed through me.

  I inched to the edge of the couch, getting closer to him. “I was coming back. The man who was arrested was walking me home safely.”

  “Arrested?” His head snapped up.

  “Yes. I think he’s homeless and probably has a few crimes of stealing to eat. But tonight, he saved me.” I wouldn’t go into the details with my father—he didn’t need those mental images of me trapped and scared to haunt him, or worse, use them against me if I ever tried to leave on my own again—but I did need to fight for the man who’d fought for me. “He was an utter gentleman, Dad. He was kind and a little rough but overall someone worthy of being given a chance.”

  I linked my fingers, squeezing tight to overcome my nerves and push ahead. It was a trick I used in the boardroom when firing a department head if they were found embezzling or not doing their job.

  I could never show weakness.

  Ever.

  Tonight, I’d shown weakness, and it’d almost gotten me raped and a man locked up.

  “We need to help him.”

  Dad frowned. “Help? How?”

  “We need to hire a lawyer—get him good representation, so he isn’t incarcerated.”

  He scowled. “If he committed the crime, it’s only fair he suffers the consequences.”

  “Doesn’t he deserve someone to fight on his side, though? I don’t know his name but I doubt he has anyone. He saved me. The least I can do is try to do the same.”

  “You were gallivanting around the city with a man, and you didn’t know his name?” He groaned, shaking his head. “What were you thinking?” He stood suddenly, rubbing his face as if in denial. “Elle, you’ve had a long night. I’m going to bed, and I suggest you do the same. Sage is in your room. I collected her from the office when I went to check on you and found you were gone.”

  His guilt trip worked. I slotted myself into his weary arms. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve told you.”

  “Yes, you should have.” He hugged me, although reluctantly.

  But if I had, you wouldn’t have let me go.

  He spoke into my hair, no doubt smelling spicy beef burritos and dangerous alleys.

  I was glad my long hair covered the bruise on my temple and whatever other calling cards those thugs had left were hidden beneath my clothes.

  “I know this is my fault, keeping you so sheltered and buried under work, but my God, Elle, I never expected you to go chasing after the first boy who showed interest in you. A boy who was arrested, for goodness’ sake.”

  I smarted with shame. “It’s not like that. He wasn’t just any boy. He was—”

  When I didn’t continue, he sighed sadly. “He was what? A friend? A soul-mate? A teenage crush?” He pinched his nose. “Elle, I will never stand in the way of you finding love. I want you to find love. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish your mother was still alive to teach you how valuable love can be, but I won’t permit you to throw away everything you have with a stupid infatuation over a criminal who doesn’t deserve you.”

  “Dad…don’t—”

  His eyes dropped to my throat. Pain arrowed through him, followed by rage. “Where is your necklace?”

  I jolted.

  “Tell me, Elle. The sapphire star I bought you. The one I spent hours deliberating over. The one I bought because the blue matched your eyes and the star symbolized how much you mean to me?” His fists shook. “Where is it?”

  I looked at the beige carpet. “I lost it.”

  The lie turned to paste on my tongue, but it was better than the truth. Better for him to blame me than to think of his gift in the possession of heartless thieves who meant me harm.

  “For God’s sake, Noelle.” He shook his head, tiredness etching his eyes. “Not only were you irresponsible with yourself but with your gift, too. If you planned on using tonight as a demonstration that you were capable of spending some time alone away from the company, consider it a failure.” His voice deepened with authority. “Until you can prove you are still the considerate daughter I raised, I don’t want you leaving this house without David, do you hear me?”

  My tears turned to anger. Heat smoked through me to argue back. To tell him just how suffocated I felt, how lonely, how lost. But I’d already hurt him tonight, and now, he’d hurt me.

  We were even.

  I smiled tight, hiding everything. We both had more to say but wouldn’t verbalize. He was disappointed in me. I was frustrated by him.

  It was best to go to bed before we uttered things we couldn’t take back.

  “Goodnight, Dad.” I moved around him and left the living room. “I’m sorry about the necklace.”

  As I climbed the sweeping staircase to my room on the third floor, my mind returned to the man who tasted like chocolate and had hands that could touch so sweetly but also cause such violence.

  I would never forget him.

  And tomorrow, I would do what I could to help him.

  Because he’d helped me, and in some crazy way, he’d claimed my young, naïve heart.

  I would get him free.

  No matter how impossible that task would be.

  11

  Three Years Later

  “DON’T FORGET, YOU have that dinner meeting with your father, Mr. Robson, and his son tonight at the Weeping Willow.” Fleur smiled, hoisting another armful of contracts and financial portfolios.

  I removed my reading glasses and took the folders from her. The heavy thud as I placed them on my desk ricocheted through me. “Yes, I remember.”

  And I want nothing to do with it.
/>   For the past year, my father had used every business meeting with his right-hand man, Steve Robson, to try to set me up with his son. He thought I couldn’t see through his tricks, but the way he kept finding excuses for us to be around each other wasn’t subtle.

  “Anything else, Ms. Charlston?”

  “No, thank you. Please don’t put any calls through. I have too much work to finish.”

  “Of course.” Turning in her pretty purple dress, Fleur left my office. Her wardrobe was smart but flirty, reminding me that outside the thick glass windows existed sun and heat and summer.

  I hadn’t been away from an air-conditioned building for more than a few minutes at a time for months. If I wasn’t being driven from office to office, I was in store warehouses or shop-fronts or doing my best to catch up on sleep, that for some reason, had become elusive for the past three years.

  Ever since my one night of freedom, sleep had evaded me. Dreams never came. Nightmares visited often. The damn guilt because I wasn’t able to help him eroded me day by day.

  You said you wouldn’t think about him anymore.

  I said that every morning.

  And by every lunchtime, I failed.

  The best I’d been able to do was realize how stupidly idealistic I’d been. My dad, bless his heart, had helped show me that it wasn’t Nameless who I thought I’d fallen in love with that night but the idea of love.

  No one could fall for a stranger in a few hours. Especially a girl who’d been attacked and molested and then corralled into breaking and entering a national treasure. My nerves and adrenaline would’ve heightened every experience, making it so much more than what it was.

  I’d read into things. I’d imagined the heat behind the kisses and painted a perfect romance, when really, all there’d been was a dirty boy and a baseball field.

  That’s all.

  I recognized myself for what I was.

  I was young, fanciful, and Dad was entirely right that work took precedent over a silly infatuation.

  He was nothing to me.

  Just a man from my past who took my first kiss.