by Coco Miller
“No, listen. I’ll get your money. I can get you a few thousand tonight.”
Rick laughs, looking back and forth between his henchmen and then they start to cackle. Ricky puffs his cigar and walks further into my room. His presence is suffocating. I scramble back on the bed until my back hits the headboard.
“A few thousand? You think that will matter? We’ve been following you, Gabriella.”
Zach sets up the camera and Tony pulls out a bunch of rope and duct−tape.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“We know about the Prince. He’s the perfect opportunity for us to get our money and for you to finally be in the clear. Only…we are going to raise the price.”
“You’re wasting your breath. He doesn’t care about me. I was just some fun before he went back to England.”
Ricky bends down and blows out a cloud of smoke in my face, smiles, and then schools his face, backhanding me with the left hand that has a massive ring on it.
“Do not lie to me, bitch. I know better. We saw how he looked at you. You were more than some piece of ass to him. I don’t know what a Prince would want with a whore like you but he sees something.”
“Maybe we should see for ourselves, Ricky.”
The red light of the camera blinks and Zach grabs his crotch, licking his lips as he looks at me. Ricky grabs my face with too much force and I whimper.
“Give me the tape, Tony.”
Ricky’s eyes swirl with greed as he lays the sticky tape against my lips. Tony ties my legs together, lifting Rowan’s sweatpants so my ankles show. The ropes scratch against my skin and Ricky flips me over, yanking my arms back. My shoulders scream, almost popping from the sockets as he ties my hands together.
“I can see why the Prince wanted a taste of you. Look at your ass,” his voice deepens, running his hands down my body.
My eyes shut and bile creeps its way up my throat.
“Your little boyfriend is going to pay up or you’re mine. I’d love to keep something as pretty as you as a pet.”
Now I’m the one that feels guilty about not telling Rowan the truth. Because of me, he is about to be exposed and his image might be ruined. A Prince of England blackmailed because of a Vegas stripper? Hell. I should have never walked down that hallway when he wanted to see me the first time.
“Let’s send a little video to the Prince, shall we?” Ricky says as he pats my face.
The red light blinks from the camera and it’s a signal that hypnotizes me and makes me realize my reality. The small blinking red is my demise.
It’s Rowan’s ruin.
This is what happens when I allow emotions to lead the way.
Destruction.
Chapter Eleven
Rowan
“Damn it.”
I check my phone for any life and roll it around in my hand as if it will magically turn on. It’s dead. It has been dead for fifteen hours. I haven’t had time to charge it. When we landed, we came straight to the hospital. We try and remain as private as possible, but it always leaks out when the royal family is out and now I have cameras in my face as I come back from lunch to see my father on his death bed.
Fucking vultures.
“Can you tell us what happened to the King?”
“Will he make a full recovery?”
“Who will take his spot? You or Prince Gerald?”
“With Prince Gerald being first in line—”
I ignore all of their questions and push the camera out of my face. They aren’t allowed in the hospital. One of the security guards comes to stand by me to make sure none of the press gets through the doors, and I breathe a sigh of relief when the door is shut.
The private hospital is small since we own it and the waiting room is just a small lobby with a few chairs and a front desk. It’s only for close family and friends. My shoes echo down the hall as I walk down the hallway. It gets colder the closer I get to his room and the weight of the situation is starting to become very real.
After my father dies, my mother will step down and name Gerald the King if he wants to take it. He has been a mess during this entire situation and I’m starting to wonder if he is right. Maybe he isn’t cut out for this job. It takes a level head, something Gerald has never really had.
I knock on the door and open it, revealing my mother holding my father’s hand and my brother laying on the couch asleep.
“Rowan.”
“Mom.”
Calling the Queen of the country mom seems a bit informal, but we our family is more informal than people think. She never wanted to be called mother. She said, ‘it felt cold and love is supposed to be warm.’ I never asked about it again. I wrap her in my arms and give her a kiss on the forehead.
“How is dad doing?”
“They said it will be any day now.”
The only man who has ever been a father to me will be dead soon. This is real. I take a deep breath and nod my head, fighting back the tears burning my eyes.
“We need to talk about who is taking responsibility,” she says plainly to me. “I won’t be able to do it. Not without your father. I just want to live the rest of my life without the stress of the entire country on my shoulders.”
“Gerald is your firstborn son,” I say the one thing she already knows.
“I know that, Rowan, but he doesn’t want it. Do you?”
I didn’t think I did, but I do. I do want it. I want to keep the legacy going. I want to be the Cobalt heir people depend on, but I do not want to do it without Ella. I would be miserable.
“If Gerald steps down, I will happily take his place, but I want my Queen by my side.”
My mother gasps, cupping her mouth with her hands as new tears from her eyes.
“You met someone? Oh, honey, I never thought you would. No offense. But you’re so quiet, usually.”
What she means to say is that she knows I usually like to watch other couples. I have been a voyeur for years. She only knows this because one of the couples I used to watch blackmailed my mother for money. It was embarrassing to say the least, but we got through it, and she has never once asked about it again.
I don’t feel that need now that I’ve been with Ella—to watch others. I only ever want to watch her.
“I met her in the states. In Las Vegas. She’s amazing, but there’s a slight issue though. She isn’t talking to me right now. I lied to her about who I am.”
“Why?” my father coughs.
“Dad!”
“Harold!” my mother sits down, taking a cup of water in her hand to give him.
He hasn’t said a word in two days. He feebly pushes the water away and it spills on the floor. He hardens his eyes at me, his face nearly translucent. I can see the heavy circles under his eyes and the veins in his forehead. His cheek bones are sunken in and his lips are chapped and dry.
“Why?” he repeats.
My dad woke up from the dead for this?
“Because she isn’t from money. She isn’t an aristocrat. She lives a simple life and I didn’t want her to get intimidated by us and by all of this,” I answer, sitting on the foot of the bed. The blue blanket is hand−knitted and soft, covering his entire body.
“And now?” he asks.
“And she ran away from me.”
I try to turn on my phone again. All I want to do is call her. There is no use. The screen is still black.
“Here, honey. I’ll plug it up,” she says.
“If you are to be head of this family, you need a woman by your side,” my father struggles to say in between breaths. The wheezing gets worse and eventually, he closes his eyes and falls back to sleep, holding my mother’s hand.
“He does that. He will come in and out of consciousness but it changes nothing.”
My parents have been married for fifty years. They are the dream that everyone yearns for when they meet the person they want to spend the rest of their life with. My phone beeps and the screen flashes blue. I can hardly wai
t any longer. I pick it up and sit down in the chair in the corner and run through my messages.
Ella.
I smile. She messaged me. There’s hope.
I click on it and my brows pinch together when I see that it is not a message but a video. I can’t tell what it is, so I turn my phone to the left so it takes up the entire screen. The frozen picture at the beginning before I press play makes my heart sink.
“No,” I whisper, afraid to press the triangle in the middle to see what the rest of the video holds.
“What, darling?” my mom sighs and sits next to me, patting my knee.
“When was this sent?”
I frantically look at the time stamp and see that it was sent a few hours ago.
“Fuck!” I scream and my brother wakes up from the sudden outburst, falling onto the floor.
He groans, “What? God, keep it down. My head is killing me.”
“Because you drank too much last night. You need to stop doing that,” mom scolds.
“Quiet, everyone, stop,” I plead and with a shaky finger, I press play.
Her whimpers come through the screen and I squeeze my phone with anger. I can’t break it or her face will disappear. She pulls on the ropes and groans behind the tape covering her mouth. She’s crying.
“Oh my god,” my mom says as she watches it with me. My brother gets on my other side and curses under his breath.
“Prince Cobalt.” A fat man with a cigar sits next to my Ella and I want blood for someone so vile as him getting near her. “You know beautiful Ella, right? Your little stripper slut,” he says.
“Don’t you touch her, you fucking wanker! And she isn’t a goddamn stripper!” I roar into the screen as if he can hear me. God, I feel like I’ve been telling everyone that. It doesn’t matter. Even if she did take off her clothes, I wouldn’t care. She’s mine.
“Well, your slut here is in a little bit of trouble. Last month she came to me for help. Some call me a loan shark, but I consider myself an entrepreneur. Anywho...” He reaches over and runs his knuckles down Ella’s cheek. She jerks her head away and another man steps forward and slaps her in the face.
“Ella,” I whisper with tears in my eyes.
“She owes me one−hundred thousand dollars. She had her mom’s medical debt to pay but she hasn’t paid me. As you can probably imagine that’s a fucking problem. So we’ve been following the little thief and we saw her with you.”
He blows out more smoke from his mouth and his yellow teeth show. The man that hit her in the face kisses her neck, leering into the camera as he touches what is mine. I watch as Ella cringes.
“I’ve upped my price. I want a million transferred to the bank account number attached to this video in twenty−four hours or your slut is going to become my slut.” His men laugh in the background and Ella screams behind the tape covering her mouth. “And I have a tendency to share my pets, Prince. Twenty−four hours.”
The camera shuts off and I’m left with a black screen with a routing and account number. The room is so quiet, I could hear a pin drop.
It seems Ella has been keeping something from me too. I have the money to fix this, and the only reason I can think of that she wouldn’t tell me is because she didn’t want me to think she was using me.
Dammit, why didn’t she use me?
“This is awful. No one deserves that.”
My mother stands and runs her hands down her impeccable light blush paint suit. She twirls her fingers around her pearl necklace as she paces and she glances at my father, her expression softening and the wrinkles around her eyes fading.
“And this is the woman you love?”
“More than anything, mom. I know you wanted me to marry someone else, with money and status, someone who would understand the traditions of this family but I love who I love. I know it isn’t tradition and I know a lot of heat will fall on us but I need her. There’s no one else for me but Ella.”
“Then you shall have her, baby boy.” My mother cups my face. “Before I met your father, I had my fair share in the clubs too, you know.”
“What?” I balk.
“I’m going to chuck up my dinner. Don’t continue, mom.”
Gerald pretends to gag.
“We will notify the authorities of this video in Vegas and we will transfer the money. No question.”
Even if my mom didn’t approve, I’d do it.
“I can’t leave dad. Not like this. I need to be there and here. I can’t do both.”
“Go, Rowan. Bring her here. Be here by the end of the week. You have time for that. Dad will be here.”
I don’t know how I’ll do it but I will. I don’t bother looking at the video again. I can’t. I’m still sick from seeing it the first time. I call our accountant and have them set up the transfer and then forward the video to the authorities. I just hope they can get to her before I can. I’m halfway around the world and the only ones that can save her right now are the cops. I bend down and kiss my father on the forehead and I close my eyes as I leave, unable to meet the rest of my family’s gaze.
I have to keep it together. Ella needs me to be strong. I wish she would have come to me earlier. I would have taken care of this in a heartbeat and she wouldn’t have had to owe me a thing. She had my heart from the moment I saw her and anything she wants is at her disposal when it comes to me.
The security guard pushes at the door again and the press bombards me as I make my way to my car, their questions blending together to create a low hum. The driver opens the door of the car and I get in. Flashes of the camera try to catch my face on the other side of the tinted glass.
I don’t care about them right now.
All I care about is Ella.
I’m coming, love. I’m coming for you. Just hang on.
Chapter Twelve
Ella
“Looks like your boy came through, Ella,” Ricky says, staring at his phone as he sits behind his desk. I know that he is more than a loan shark but whatever other jars he has his hands in are apparently lucrative. He seems to be doing well for himself.
His office is large with cathedral ceilings painted like the Sistine Chapel. He has bodyguards on either side of him and he has women walking around in bikinis waiting on him hand and foot. Some are even naked. I’m not sure when they moved me but it’s been hours. My head swims from when they knocked me out and dragged me from the house. I say drag because my knees are bleeding.
I blink a few times to clear my vision. I still can’t speak since the duct tape is covering my mouth. Rowan paid it? Why? Why would he do that?
“One million—” Ricky stops speaking when the sound of gun fire comes from down the hall. He stares at the closed doors of his office. The wood is round at the top and the doors are stained a dark red, reminding me of the blood Ricky seems to thrive on.
“What’s going on out there? Go do something!”
The security guard opens his jacket and reaches in the left side pocket and pulls out a silver gun with a gold handle. He inches forward, afraid to get close to the door when the gunshots get closer. A whistle rings through the air and he stops, looks down, drops the gun in his hand and it misfires causing my ears to tingle. The big oaf falls, blood staining his button−up shirt.
He’s dead.
Holy shit, he is dead.
That’s a dead body.
I scream behind my makeshift bandage and shut my eyes when more bullets fly and Ricky, the coward, tries hiding underneath his desk, only he is too fat to get under it. The doors get kicked in and I don’t dare open my eyes to see who is here for me now. Some other enemy of Ricky’s? Someone else who wants to expose Rowan? God, I should have stayed away from him. I’m going to ruin him and his family.
“Miss Washington?” A man’s voice gets closer to me, but I still don’t look at him. I can’t. “Miss Washington? Don’t be afraid. It’s Officer Rolland. A Mr. Rowan Cobalt called us to inform of your situation. We tracked the bank account. We have b
een hunting Ricky Howard for years.” His hand lands on my knee and I flinch away from him. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to touch you. You can open your eyes, Miss Washington. We aren’t here to hurt you.”
I open one eye, afraid to see what is near me when a man in S.W.A.T. gear comes to view. He is handsome with dark skin and big brown eyes. The name over his left pec says Rolland like he said just a few moments ago. He lifts his hands slowly, showing me he isn’t armed in any way and reaches for the tape on my mouth.
“I’m sorry, this is going to hurt a bit.” He winces himself as he starts to pull the duct tape away from my lips. What he doesn’t know is that I can’t feel a thing right now. Tears fall as my lips get released. I gasp for air and stretch my lips by opening my jaws wide.
“Are they still there?” I whimper. “My lips?”
I can’t lie, I’m nervous the tape took my lips off. It’s a silly thing to think about right now, but it’s the irrational part of me thinking right now.
He gives a small chuckle and takes a knife out of his pocket and cuts the ropes at my ankle. “They are still there, Miss Washington.”
I breathe a sigh of relief and lick my lips. Damn, they feel so raw. I look down and see I’m still in Rowan’s clothes. A few drops of blood are on the sleeve of the shirt and when I look down, his sweatpants are torn. I’m not sure how that happened. My ankles are freed and I groan when the rope is no longer cutting into my skin. He works on my arms next and when my wrists are free, my arms get tingly.
“Let’s get you out of here and to a doctor, okay?”
“I don’t need a doctor. I’m fine. I just want to go home. Is my mom, okay?” I whisper into his shoulder as he picks me up. I’m sleepy all of a sudden.
“She’s fine. She’s worried about you. We are going to take you to the hospital anyway, Miss Washington. Protocol, sorry.”
