Page 3 of Drawn Together

I was not so lucky.

I set my textbook on the coffee table and dragged myself to the bedroom. As soon as I was all curled up under my white down comforter, a feeling of loneliness came over me. It wasn’t that I was sad, exactly, but I had always lived with lots of peoplearound me. At home, Lupita, the housekeeper, had been like a mother to me. There was also Peter, the driver; Frank, the gardener; and even Logan, my father’s bodyguard, whenever he was home. At boarding school I’d shared a room with four other girls, including Tami, so we were almost never alone. Being on my own in that apartment sometimes triggered irrational fears; the slightest sound could project a horror movie onto my mind. I hated days like that.

I closed my eyes, burrowed under the blankets, and began to silently count:One, two, three… eighteen… forty-four, forty-five… two hundred six. At some point around 543, I finally fell asleep.

Friday came before I knew it. I’d been invited to a single’s Valentine’s party at a club, but I declined the offer. Not because I don’t like going out—I love it—but I decided I’d rather stay home and dance or watch a movie, solo.

After spending more than two and a half hours at the ballet barre doing pliés, I put an oversized white shirt on over my leotard and took out Harry’s business card.

I could call and ask if he wanted to do dinner. That would save me from having to order another pizza from the place around the corner. But then I remembered that he hadn’t even asked for my name. What was I going to do, text and say:Hey, I’m the random girl from the bar. Want to have dinner on Valentine’s Day?No fucking way.

It was still light out, so I pulled on some leggings, threw on a sweater, put on a pair of gloves and my favorite sneakers, and headed out for a run. I normally ran for over an hour every day, but never in the mornings, because I hated waking up earlier than strictly necessary. Also, I loved seeing the sunset over the Central Park Lake.

I waved to Norman with a smile and went out into the early evening. Central Park was always bustling with people—families taking their kids to the playground, others walking their dogs, feeding the ducks, or enjoying some time under the shade on warmer days. When the sun started to sink low on the horizon, the park began to clear out, except for the runners. I recognized a few other regulars, and we nodded as we passed each other. I had made the mistake once of going out with one of them, and I vowed never to do it again. I hated having to change my jogging route so as not to run into past flings.

After an intense, longer-than-normal run, I slowed to a walk to begin cooling down. The day had given way to a gorgeous clear night, with the lights of the skyscrapers glimmering on the water. I loved this city. A lot of people complained that it was too busy, that people never stopped moving, so on and so forth. I had lived my entire life in the countryside, and being there, in the big city, made me feel like I was part of something exciting.

I was leaning over the stream of a water fountain’s cool water, pulling my long ponytail out of the way to keep my hair from getting wet… when it happened.

I didn’t even have time to scream.

A hand grabbed me around the waist and pulled me backward while another hand covered my mouth with a damp cloth that smelled repulsive. I tried to resist with all my might, panic flooding me, body and mind. I struggled as hard as I could to break free, but the person holding the damp cloth over my face acted swiftly. My eyes began to feel heavy; my limbs lost all their strength. I felt myself falling backward, collapsing against someone tall and muscular.

“Put her in the van.”

That was the last thing I heard before losing consciousness.

CHAPTER 2MARFIL

I opened my eyes in a hospital room. There was no one around, just the beeping of a machine to keep me company. Looking down at my body, I saw that I was wearing a green hospital gown with an IV tube sticking out of my left hand and a bandage on my right one. My heart began to race, but since I wasn’t connected to a monitor, I was the only one aware of the incessant pounding.

What happened?

The door opened, and a nurse approached my bed. “Miss Cortés? How are you feeling?”

I blinked several times, stunned. “Where am I? What happened?” I tried to sit up. I don’t know where I thought I was going to go, but my instincts were telling me to get up and run for it, to flee, to keep myself safe… From who, though?

“It’s okay, you’re fine,” she assured me.

I felt my eyes fill with tears, and my mind whirled as I conjured the last images I could recall. Jogging in the park, stopping for a drink of water, someone covering my mouth, darkness, and then…

Before I could ask what had happened, the door opened again, and to my relief, my father entered the room.

“Marfil…” he said, walking over and putting his arms around me. I buried my head in his chest and breathed in his scent: Eau Sauvage by Dior combined with the tobacco he’dlikely been smoking nonstop. “Thank God you’re awake,” my father said, smoothing my hair.

My father and I weren’t very close, and not just because I’d lived most of my life abroad, but I’d never been happier to feel his arms around me as I did in that moment.

Once I’d calmed down, he explained what had happened.

“You were kidnapped, Marfil,” my father said grimly, his mouth a thin line.

I’d been found unconscious outside a hospital in New Orleans, an hour and a half from my family’s home near Baton Rouge. Luckily, I still had my wallet, which allowed the doctors to identify me and contact my father.

“They didn’t leave anything, not even a note; they didn’t ask for ransom, either. I realized something was wrong when I called you Sunday and it went to voicemail five times.”

Sunday!God! That means I must’ve been out for almost three days at least.

“When I found out you weren’t in your apartment and that no one had seen you come back from your run Friday evening, I knew something terrible had happened.”