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MIA
The brisk air settles on my skin, the Chicago skyline the same as I remember it.
I’ve stayed in places like this before, but I was never allowed out on the balcony. I guess my owners were too afraid I’d jump. Don’t get me wrong, the thought occurred to me on more than a few occasions, but I was never brave enough to end it.
The idea that I could fail and that I’d be punished was enough to bring me back from any ledge I ever thought about leaping from.
And although I’m free now and I have my whole life ahead of me, I barely caught those intrusive thoughts when they crossed my mind before Ace materialized in all his rumpled glory.
Everyone would be better off if I wasn’t here.
Ace would be able to get work done.
Emerson would be able to focus on her growing family.
The rest of the Saint James family would have one less person to watch over.
But most importantly, I’d be at peace.
I used to think about what it would be like to be free. I thought I’d be able to go on living as if nothing ever happened, but unfortunately, that’s not the reality I’m living right now.
At least before, I knew what to expect and what others expected of me.
I had a purpose, and while it was one I hated with a fiery passion, at least I knew what to do to keep myself safe.
But now? Now I have no idea what I’m doing. I have no idea what’s around the corner or who might come for me.
The idea that Kyle, the man who broke me into a million pieces just so he could mold me into the perfect whore, is looking for me, has ice-cold dread seeping into my every muscle.
I’ve been racking my brain for hours trying to work it out, trying to think of any reason he would want me back so desperately, but I keep coming up empty, and that only adds to my fear.
Whenever my owners wanted an upgrade, Kyle was the one to facilitate it, but I can’t see why he would care if I escaped. I presume he’s been paid each time, so what the fuck could be the reason he’s going to such an expense to get me back?
“No, sugar. You can come outside anytime you want.” Ace forces his voice to soften, but the edge in his tone would be enough to slice even the strongest of men.
I nod and drag my attention off his haunted green eyes. I’ve been known to lose myself in them since the first time I saw him. A lot of that time in my life is a blur of sadness, but Ace is the one thing I remember as clear as day. The way he took my hand and showed me my room. How he checked in on me in the early days to make sure I was coping with the change okay. How he protected me and took the fall for things I did so I wouldn’t be starved or beaten by our foster parents. It may as well have happened yesterday, the memories are so vivid.
But I can’t let myself fall into those beautiful eyes anymore, because I’m not sure I’ll survive being torn from him again.
The kiss from last night plays in my mind, the softness of his lips on mine and how badly I wanted him to give me everything, to replace all the bad memories with nothing but him. Except that’s unrealistic.
If Ace had taken things any further, if he’d touched me the wrong way or trapped me beneath his body, I would have been thrown into memories I would rather not remember during my time with him.
It’s for the best we never take things any further, no matter how badly I want to.
“Do you want me to make you some breakfast?” he asks.
“No, thank you.”
He sighs, but he doesn’t argue with me. I almost wish he would. I wish he would stop treating me like I’m broken, because that’s never how I want him to see me.
I want him to look at me and see the girl he loved before he even understood the meaning of the four-letter word. But not even I see her when I look in the mirror anymore.
We fall into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the city below the only background noise as we stare out at the horizon.
My days here are numbered. That’s the only truth I can bring myself to accept right now. If Kyle has set his sights on me, there’s no way he’s going to drop it, even if it means he has to go up against the Saint James and Russo families to get me.
Ace’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he quickly checks the caller ID before sighing. “Storm,” he greets and waits for the other man’s response.
