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“Who’s this?” he asks, his voice just as pompous as I remember. Funnily enough, I used to think it was charming.
“Chaz,” I whisper, afraid to speak louder. “Chaz, I need your help.”
“Genevieve!” There’s surprise in his voice, as if he hadn’t expected to hear from me. I suppose that checks out. I’ve been missing for weeks. I’m sure it’s more of a body hunt now than simply finding me. “Where have you been?”
“Listen, I don’t have much time,” I rasp out. “I was kidnapped. After the gala, I went home because I…” Because I caught him cheating on me, but I can’t say that and accuse him of cheating and then expect him to help me. “Anyways, when I went to my apartment, there were four men there, and they kidnapped me. They just want money. If you’ll just pay them—”
“Did you say four men?” Chaz asks, interrupting me. “Do you know their names?”
I hesitate. I don’t want them to get in trouble. “No,” I finally answer. “They have been wearing masks every time they come in.”
Chaz doesn’t answer. I can hear him breathing, so I know he’s still there, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Chaz?”
“Look, Genevieve, I can’t help you.”
“What do you mean you can’t help me?” I snarl, my voice getting a little louder. “I’m your fiancée.”
“You’re on your own. I don’t know what sort of people you’ve gotten yourself mixed up with—”
“You asshole!” I spit out. “You know damn well this has nothing to do with me. You have money. Pay the bastards so I can leave.”
“Good luck, Genevieve,” he replies. In the background, I hear a female voice ask who’s on the phone. My body tenses in pure fury. “Nobody,” he answers her, and then the line goes dead.
Motherfucker!
I stare down at the phone incredulously. That bastard hung up on me. I knew he was cheating on me, but I still expected him to do the right thing. Instead, he’s already entertaining other women in my absence, all while playing the perfectly sad fiancé on the news. I should have known. I should have never trusted the asshole.
I want to scream, to rage at how fucking unfair the world is, but I know it won’t help.
I feel so betrayed. I sit in the bathroom for a few minutes more before I stand and tuck the phone in my waistband again. I’ll return to my room and put it back where I got it, but it’s clear I’ll need to figure things out myself. The temptation to call the police again hits me, but I push it down. There has to be another way. Perhaps I can convince them to let me pay the ransom. I’ll even double it.
I flush the toilet for a cover story and leave the bathroom, returning back to the room that’s been designated as mine. I slip back into Eric’s arms and carefully slide the phone into his pocket. He doesn’t wake up, and I settle into his arms, soaking in more of his warmth, and for once, I allow myself to feel pitiful.
Never rely on anyone else. They’ll only let you down in the end.
It’s a lesson I should have remembered, but here I am.
As it turns out, money doesn’t change most things. It just makes the bad guys better dressed.
