My heart hit a stop button and hung love-struck in my chest.
Noelle Charlston.
The girl from the alley.
The name seared into my mind thanks to her identification card with the logo of Belle Elle—the largest retail chain in the US.
She thought I hadn’t noticed. That I didn’t believe her when she said she was an office worker at the one place I could never enter without a security guard throwing me out. My wardrobe told them all they needed to know and the fact that the last time I snuck inside I’d taken a nap in the houseware department didn’t help my case.
I found it sexy that Elle worked there. I had fantasies of her working hard, renting a tiny studio, making something of her life while I looked up from squalor below.
I respected her for her tenacity to better herself. I was attracted to her for her lack of confidence or willingness to talk about her life when minimum wage made her so much richer than I was.
I’d become infatuated with her from the start. It turned to an obsessive need to know her the longer we walked back to her home. And when she mentioned it was her birthday, and she wasn’t even out of her teens yet, I had the disgusting desire to be the first to welcome her to adulthood.
I’d taken her to the park to see how far her limits would go. A sheltered little girl out for a thrill. But then she’d agreed to follow me.
To break into the park with me.
To trust me.
Then she fucking kissed me. And I no longer wanted to test her but steal her to be mine forever. I’d lived in pure happiness for an hour out of so many years of loneliness.
That was before the night ended, and I never saw her again.
Until now.
She sat in an overstuffed armchair with a gray cat on her lap, stroking it with languid pets while her shoulders remained tense. Her long blonde hair that I remembered filled with leaves and grass clippings from rolling around on the baseball field, draped over the back of the chair while her eyes locked on the three males in front of her.
Two older, one around her age.
Their lips moved, faces speaking with animation that I couldn’t hear.
The closed windows were air tight; the occasional whir of traffic and murmur of dog walkers meant I couldn’t distinguish any other noise but the city buzz.
The sapphire burned my hand, demanding I knock on the door and give it back. To say ‘hi, do you remember me?’ To kiss her if she’d forgotten and remind her if she hadn’t.
I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt about why she hadn’t come looking for me. Why I’d thought about her for nine long months, but she’d moved on and dismissed me.
But the longer I stood in the manicured bushes hiding me from the street and spied on her life, the more I understood why.
I thought we’d had a connection that night.
I thought she’d fallen down the same slippery slope that defied logic or reason as I had.
Turned out, it might’ve just been one-sided. Because there she was, smiling at the boy opposite with his sandy blond hair and a smirk that said he wanted to fuck her and she’d probably let him.
She wasn’t surviving in a crappy apartment with annoying roommates and eating budget groceries to make ends meet. She wasn’t dressed in cheap clothes and costume jewelry so common to girls her age.
Nope.
There she sat, leading a pampered life in a spoiled little world.
She was the daughter of a rich man.
She had a pampered kitten in a spoiled big house.
She was probably allergic to work and had servants for everything.
To prove my case, a woman in an apron trundled into the living room with a tray of baked goods and a teapot. Elle smiled at her but didn’t get up to help pass out the sweets. She waited like the men until the woman had placed cupcakes onto glass dishes, accepting the food cordially but with the airs and graces of someone used to having things given to her.
This wasn’t a recent climb up the monetary ladder. She wasn’t poor and now suddenly rich.
She’d been born into wealth, and it dripped off her.
Why didn’t I see it that night? Taste it? Smell it?
Fuck, I was so stupid.
For so long, I thought she was an employee. That she knew the value of hard work in a different capacity to me but still understood the cost of survival in a big city.
I gave her excuses about why she couldn’t find or visit me in prison even if she didn’t issue a statement saying I was innocent.
To her, I would’ve been an adventure, nothing more.
To me, she was untouchable, something I could never have.
Standing outside her castle, wrapped in the shadows I’d befriended, I gave up on my stupid fantasies. She was nothing more than an overindulged brat who ran away from her doting father to be something she wasn’t for a night.
She wasn’t who I thought she was.
She’d let me believe in a fairy-tale.
I had no time for brats.
The visions of returning her necklace faded.
She didn’t need it.
She probably had thousands of replacements.
I wouldn’t be lying to Stewie tonight.
He could have it back.
He was the rightful owner now, not her.
With a stupid heart that’d finally learned its lesson, I turned and walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Elle
TWO WEEKS PASSED.
An insanely long two weeks where I went to work but didn’t manage to do even the simplest of tasks.
I constantly hounded Larry for updates on visiting hours for Penn and promised him unlimited funds to gather whatever information he needed to submit for Penn’s case.
Dad kept popping in to check on me, but for his benefit, I kept my stress hidden.
He didn’t need to know I hadn’t slept properly since the night Greg took me. He didn’t need to understand I couldn’t carry a normal thought without almost bursting into tears thinking about Penn locked up while I carried on my life as if nothing had happened.
I couldn’t shift the guilt.
The awful compounding guilt that history had repeated itself, and instead of banging down police doors and ramming a bulldozer into the prison for a jailbreak, I was twiddling my thumbs bound by bureaucracy and tied up with paper pushing.
Even Fleur hadn’t been able to get me out of my depressive funk.
Thanks to her heart of gold, she picked up my slack and kept Belle Elle running. She told me what to sign and when. She helped prepare my notes for business meetings and ensured my wardrobe screamed CEO when really all I wanted to do was cry in the corner with Sage.
Enough with the pity.
You told Greg what would happen if he goes after Penn.
Hopefully, in another few weeks when he went to trial or Penn went to trial or whatever was supposed to happen next, Penn would walk free, and Greg would pay for what he’d done.
The last I’d heard, he’d been transferred from the hospital to some penitentiary system and processed. No mention of bail or whiff of him being released.
Would Penn and Greg see each other inside, or would they be kept apart, knowing the history and the reason for Penn’s incarceration?
I had so many questions about the law and judicial system.
I hated being uneducated on topics I’d never had to know before.
Clicking open a new web browser, I typed in: how to free someone framed for a crime they didn’t commit.
As the results loaded, my phone vibrated across my desk with an incoming call.
Sage tried to swat it before I scooped it up and looked at caller I.D.
Larry.
I couldn’t answer it fast enough. “Yes? Larry. Any news?”
Poor guy called me every day and got the same panicked questions.
“I’m downstairs. They’ve allowed visitation. I’m heading over there if you want to come.”
I
stood up so fast my chair fell backward. “I’m on my way.”
* * * * *
Willingly walking into such a clinical, terrifying place tied my stomach into unfixable knots.
My heart lodged in my throat as Larry guided me through the process of signing in, being searched, and given a visitor badge. The forms we had to sign, the rules we had to abide by—it all made me believe I was the guilty party and I’d never be allowed to walk out of there again.
How did Larry do it so often with his clients?
How did loved ones visit their incarcerated family and not have panic attacks while trudging the hallways to see them?
David had followed in the Range Rover, even though I’d traveled with Larry in his Town Car. I’d refused to let David come in with us, and the last I’d seen of him, before entering this awful building, was his pissed off and frustrated expression where he sat in the parking lot.
“Why did it take so long to grant visitors?” I asked, handing over my gray cashmere jacket to go through the x-ray machine.
“Long?” Larry chuckled. “My dear, this is quick. I’ll admit I leaned heavily on a few people to make this happen. But consider this super-sonic.”
“It’s been two weeks.”
“Two weeks is nothing for a remand prisoner.”
“Remand?”
Larry slowed his step, educating me on this terrifying new world. “Being held in remand is what Penn is currently facing. He hasn’t been convicted or even given a trial date. He wasn’t granted bail based on his prior record and could technically endure a long stint before we can show them the truth and get him freed.”
I swallowed hard.
Two weeks had been awful. I didn’t think I could wait much longer. It wasn’t the fact I needed him with me or that I desperately needed to just talk to him to smooth out our crinkled edges—I just hated to think of him in here, locked up like a beast. “How long?”
Larry cleared his throat; his unwillingness to answer made his cheeks flush. “Well, I’ve already invoked the right for a speedy trial which technically means it should go before a judge within forty-five days. However, Penn is special. I wouldn’t be surprised if paperwork goes missing or ‘inevitable delays’ occur.”
My shoulders sunk as if he’d piled sand on top of me, burying me alive.
His voice shifted into caring. “We’ll get him out, Elle, but I’ve had some cases that can take anywhere from one to three years for a verdict to be reached.”
The floor wobbled as if it suddenly became a surfboard in high seas. “What?”
His hand landed on my forearm, features filling with pity. “That’s why so many people take a plea bargain because it means they can skip the long wait time. But in Penn’s case—he can’t.”
My brain throbbed. “Why?”
“Because any plea bargain would bury him—thanks to enemies in high places. His only chance now is to plead not-guilty and accept however long it takes to get that hearing and have evidence speak for itself.”
I wedged a fist into my stomach, trying to hold in the acid threatening to wash away my heart. “Greg will testify against him.”
Larry’s face darkened, but he shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal.
He couldn’t hide the fact that it was a very big deal.
“Well, I have a few game plans up my sleeve so that shouldn’t matter too much.”
I didn’t want to ask but my lips formed words, and they traveled to Larry’s ears. “What if they don’t work? What if they—”
He shook his head, squeezing my arm kindly. “One thing this business has taught me is not to play the ‘what-if’ game. If there are any monsters in this word, Elle, it’s those two inconsequential words. ‘What-if’...well, if you invite that question into your life, you’ll go insane, and nothing else will matter but the ever revolving answers and terrors that ‘what-if’ can provide.”
I shivered. It wasn’t the first time Larry had been so wise nor would it be the last I was sure.
“In here.” The officer acting as our escort guided us down stark gray hallways where harsh lighting offered no comfort. My heels clacked as we passed through another locked door with bars on the glass window. “You have thirty minutes. No touching. No tampering with prison property. No giving the prisoner gifts or contraband. Break the rules, and you’ll be asked to leave with a three week non-admittance. Got it?”
Larry rolled his eyes. “Frank, you know me. I’m here all the time. When have I ever broken the rules?”
Frank coughed, rubbing his prison guard uniform importantly. “It only takes one, Mr. Barns.” He narrowed his eyes at me pointedly.
Larry rubbed his mouth. “You know, I had asked for a private room. Important lawyer stuff to talk over. You understand.”
Frank scowled. “Not today. Fully booked. Take what you get. Next time, maybe.”
Larry tapped his temple in farewell. “Next time, it is.” Taking my elbow, he added, “Come along, Elle. Let’s not keep Penn waiting.”
We pushed into the room, and instantly, my eyes leaped over the couples and families gathered with their heads close over metal tables. The gray day outside offered no warmth to the gray misery inside. The only window showed gunmetal clouds with the odd speckle of rain on the barred glass.
Larry muttered under his breath. “He’d better not have refused his visitation rights again.” He searched the room, looking for a handsome, arrogant prisoner and finding nothing.
“He can refuse?” My heart lurched. “Why would he refuse?”
“Because he has this stupid thing called pride.” He lit up. “But it seems today, he’s decided to join us, after all.” Pressing my elbow again, he guided me toward the back of the room where a man in dark green overalls—same as all the other men in this place—appeared by the door escorted by a guard.
The instant his eyes met mine, the prison faded.
It was only him and me.
Me and him.
Larry didn’t even factor.
My arms ached to hug him. To tell him I was here even if I wasn’t there the first time he’d been arrested. I muttered under my breath, “I hate that stupid rule.”
Larry raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“The no touching one.”
He chuckled. “Ah, yes, I didn’t factor in how hard that would be for you two. For me, touching clients isn’t exactly normal procedure.”
Penn was in hearing distance, striding forward to join us. “I stopped being your client the moment you gave me a bed for the night.”
Larry grinned, relief coming off him in waves. “That’s true. And you became the son I never had when you agreed to come back to New York with me for my treatment. I know how hard that was for you.”
Penn flicked a quick glance at me. Hiding yet more things. Where had he been before Larry got sick? Did he hate New York because of the imprisonment or were there other factors, too?
Factors like me?
“Hello, Penn.” I tucked my hands behind my back, mainly to stop myself from reaching for him but also to hide the shakes at seeing him again. It was the strangest date I’d ever been on with a lawyer as our chaperone and the state prison as our restaurant of choice.
“Elle.” He crossed his arms, his biceps tight and arms ropy. Did he cross them for the same reason I kept mine behind my back? So he didn’t reach for me?
“Are you—are you okay?” I glanced around the room as Larry took a seat at a free table.
“Fine.” Penn motioned for me to sit too, pulling up a chair to face us. “You?”
“Good.” I grabbed my hair, twisting it into a rope over my shoulder like I always did when I was nervous. Penn’s gaze followed my hands, black hunger flashed with desire. His eyes stopped on the fading bruise on my face, his jaw clenching. “If he wasn’t already in lock-up, I’d punch him all over again for what he did to you.”
I had no reply.
Should I tell him I’d paid Greg a visit? That I’d been id
iotic on his behalf? That I would never stop fighting for him?
The awkwardness between us reached an epic ten. My hands itched to grasp his. My lips ached to kiss away the pain of our last meeting and start anew.
Why couldn’t we touch? How would we delete this strange tension?
I couldn’t stop looking at him. His tussled hair, the thicker growth on his face. He hadn’t shaved, and for the first time, he looked like Nameless from three years ago. His lips were the full kissable ones framed by a dark beard. Half of his prettiness masked by stubble.
My heart growled with possession and apologies. I couldn’t stop reliving the awfulness of him walking down the stairs in police custody telling me he had no way to convince me he was who he said because he’d never told me his name.
How I could be so blind?
Tears tickled, welling from the constant pit I tried my best not to swim in. “Penn, I’m so sorry.”
He stiffened. His jaw worked as his eyes filled with emotion so deep and tangled, I’d need a century to learn everything there was to know about him.
“I know.” He lowered his face, his gaze hooded and dark. “Me, too. It’s me who should apologize for—”
“No.” I shook my head fiercely. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s all my fault.” A lonely tear escaped. “It’s my fault you were taken the first time and now history has repeated itself. It seems whenever you’re around me, I get you locked up.”
He chuckled, his chest rising and falling, begging me to touch it. To smooth away the remaining faded yellow and green of his bruises. To reassure myself that he was still eating and drinking and staying alive even while caged up.
How did I ever believe I could walk away from him? How did one truth delete so many lies and make everything seem inconsequential now he was back in my life?
Technically, Penn was a stranger.
Realistically, we had two lifetimes to reveal and compatibility to test.
But something intrinsic and basic linked us together, ignoring timelines and date-numbers. I’d wanted him from the first moment I met him. I wanted him now I knew the truth.
There was so much to say but how could we with so many people watching and listening?
I wanted to spill how many sleepless nights I’d had while searching for him. How my need to find him wedged a small splinter between my father and me. How I’d never looked at another man because a part of me still believed he was the one.
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