AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I always am.”
“Says the man who got himself stolen from us for years…”
I don’t need the reminder—or the phantom mocking laugh of Elijah rattling around inside my head. “That will never happen again. I guarantee you that.” I press a button on my steering wheel and the call disconnects. She will understand once this is over with.
With the slightest shift of my hands, the car drifts into the staff entrance of a parking garage. The wooden pole meant to meter entry is knocked from its hinges as I speed to the third level.
I don’t have much time left. I pull the car right up to the staff elevator on the third floor and leave it there. I don’t even bother shutting the door as I rush away. I pull my suit jacket from inside and pull it over my shoulders. A familiar weight jangles in one pocket and I grin. It’s so simple. Poetic, really.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a pair of handcuffs. The shine of the steel is dulled; it’s obvious that they’ve been well-used. This means they won’t easily be broken open. It might be silly to be so attached to an object such as this one, but my life almost ended because of these very handcuffs. So, I have to use this specific pair to regain my future. With these bits of metal, I will liberate myself.
I pull my gun from my concealed shoulder holster and check the clip before placing it back inside of the holster.
It’s time for a bit of fun.
I step inside the elevator and move up to the penthouse apartment.
“I’ll even make sure to make it hurt… Just for you,” I mutter to myself and to the memory of Elijah. The anticipation of the moment shoots through my chest and makes my fingers twitch. I’m ready. It is time to put the first part of my plan into motion.
CHAPTER FOUR
Camila
Inearly break an ankle running into my apartment. On the outside, the building is pompous, full of technology and wrapped in stainless steel. Itscreamsmy father’s name.
He purchased the building years ago when we opened a branch here in the city. When I graduated from law school and passed the bar, he gave me this penthouse, complete with digitaleverythingand security devices. The whole thing is practically a live-in safe room. Keypads that respond only to my fingerprint and biological sensors get me into the building, as well as the elevator that leads up to my private access penthouse.
If it was flawless, though, I suppose my father wouldn’t be sending me away.
I have worked so many cases over the years and seen every sort of man in the world. I know that whenever there is something that an evil man puts his mind to, there is no force on heaven or earth that will be able to stop him. Nathaniel Angelo is the sort of powerhouse of a man that moves without being seen by the living. Before Elijah, he was presumed to be untouchable.
My fear feels justified as I scramble out of the high heels that I never really felt at home in. I leave them in a cluster by the door and start pulling my crumpled work clothes from my body quickly. I drop my purse and work bag haphazardly. I scoop up my laptop and personal things from the coffee table where I left them, as well as the book I was engrossed in, and stuff them into the first bag I find.
I’m supposed to be at our private air hanger in less than an hour, and it's forty minutes away. The day just got away from me. I was supposed to follow my father’s instructions perfectly, but my mind was too consumed with ensuring my cases will be handled properly. I’m almost afraid that if I stop moving, I will start to focus on all the horrific possibilities that might happen should Nathaniel find me.
I haven’t even gotten a chance to pack yet. I know that my father’s likely provided everything else which means that I just need clothes. I check my watch and swear.Faster, Camila. I practically run into my bedroom clad in only my underwear and duck straight into the ensuite bathroom, hastily shoving my toiletries into my bag and tossing it over my shoulder to land on my bed. I walk into my adjoining closet, kick my suitcase out of it and hear it topple over in the bedroom, falling softly on top of the thick carpet.
I push aside all my work clothes. I don’t have to wear stuff that doesn’t even make me feel comfortable while I’m in hiding. That much, at least, I’m certain of. I grab my vintage t-shirts and pull one of them over my head quickly before turning to my comfortably worn and frayed jeans, bundling them up in my arms. I carry them awkwardly to the pitch-black bedroom and drop them on the bed. I grab my suitcase and haul it onto the bed. My shaking, anxious fingers fumble for the zipper. “Stupid thing,” I mutter and reach for my lamp on my nightstand.
I pull on its chain and the light from the lamp makes a dim circle around it that swathes my bed and the surrounding area in a halo… And informs me that I’m not alone.
A man is sitting at my desk. His legs are lifted disrespectfully up onto the tabletop and are crossed at the ankles. Important papers and sensitive,confidential, legal documents are crumpled under his calves.
He looks perfectly comfortable at my desk. He’s totally unphased at my discovery of him. This intruder has made himself right at home. I should scream, but I’m frozen. He’s holding a bag of chips—mychips. Ones that I had left out the night before while I was working overtime.
“Hello, Camila.”
His voice is like worn leather and mocha coffee all at once. An impossible blend of rich, sensuously deep tones that blend in a way that can only belong to one person… The very person that I was running from.
Cold, icy fear surges from my heart upward until I’m acutely aware of every inch of the space I’m in. My mind fills in exactly how many steps it would take to make it to the front entrance of my apartment. My fight or flight response activates, and I know that he has always had at least a foot of height on me. I don’t think I can outrun him. Still, the muscles in my legs tense anyway, ready to run. I’m overly aware of my bare legs, the carpet under my feet, and how cold the room feels now that I know he’s in it.
Despite myself, my nipples harden under the lace of my bralette and t-shirt as my breath comes in deep but quick breaths through my nose.
Nathaniel lifts his long legs off my desk, sending my personal things clattering down to the ground in softwhumpsto the carpet. He leans forward to place his elbows on the desk and casually examines the contents of the chip bag that he’s holding. He glances inside to select a particularly shaped chip and pops it into his mouth before he turns his icy blue eyes back onto me. He doesn’t seem to believe I could escape, and I hate how he can sit there so casually, sitting in my favorite chair, no less, at my desk, eatingmy chips.
“Going somewhere?” The corner of his lip twists into a sinister smirk that seems even more devilish given the dim lighting in the room.
He’s filled out a good deal since the last time that I saw him. He has obvious, thick scars on his hands and what looks like tattoos peeking out of the sleeve of one arm. His family ringglints gold on his pinky finger as he checks the contents of the bag once more and then drops it to the desk. He picks up one of my documents and uses it to wipe his fingers on, forever staining the thing the color of orange chip residue. He winks at me sarcastically. The sheer arrogance of this man is astounding.
