Contrasting Lives

by Leah Dempster

  Matt shook his head. “I was wrong, Paul. Incredibly wrong. I've realized that now. I want Emily to be mine… if she'll have me.”

  Paul studied him in silence for a couple of minutes. “You're not going to chicken out again?”

  Matt held his hand out to his best friend. “I give you my word. I will not hurt her again. I'm in love with her,” he admitted cautiously.

  Paul grinned. “Best news I've had in months.” He clapped his hand on Matt's shoulder. “Mandy wants to stay at the hospital. For now, let's get you guys home, grab some of your gear, and take you back to our place. You look like hell.”

  Matt narrowed his eyes at Paul, wondering what home might currently look like. He imagined it would be a mess of news reporters, media vans, and constant phone calls from people wanting him to talk about Emily. He'd already decided it wasn't going to happen. “Maybe we should go to a hotel?”

  Paul lifted an eyebrow. “Why would you want to do that? I know things have been bad between us, but Mandy insists you stay at our house. She had already decided this argument had gone on for far too long, and last night's events have just cemented that opinion.”

  Matt barely restrained the desire to roll his eyes. “I imagine there's a whole lot of interest in Emily's… situation by now.” Matt fully expected to be told he'd lost his job by lunchtime. He'd had an affair with an escort, a submissive escort whose father was famous and she lived at a BDSM club. If it hadn't hit the news headlines yet, it would very soon, he was certain.

  Paul chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry to burst your bubble, chum. But you aren't all that famous. Certainly not famous enough to need to hide out in a hotel room.”

  “But the media…”

  “Have been staved off,” Paul explained.

  “But the hostage situation, there was bound to be something on the news,” Matt protested. He couldn't see how the truth could possibly be suppressed, not once Emily's name got out. Collado might be a moron and not know who she was, but the majority of American's knew Emerson Coulter's name and the media wouldn't take long to put the clues together.

  Paul continued. “Nope. One of Emily's friends here in Seattle is Don Trevisano. Between the power and resources held by him and Emily's father, any backlash has been averted.”

  Matt's eyes widened, and he rubbed at his temple to ease the pounding in his head. “Don Trevisano?” he repeated in disbelief.

  Paul nodded, and grinned. “Yep. While I don't condone the stranglehold Trevisano holds on gambling in Washington State, and I'm sure there are any number of things he probably shouldn't be doing, which might be a tad illegal, Benito Trevisano is a good guy to have in your corner. In this case, he wasn't keen on Emily's situation becoming common knowledge. Seems he thought it might infringe on his own, uh, desire for privacy.”

  Matt could only imagine what that meant, but for now, he didn't care. Although he was desperate to see Emily, common sense told him it wouldn't happen today. The best thing Matt could do now was take his family home and get some much-needed rest. Emily was in good hands, and she was being watched over by Mandy. Matt knew Mandy wouldn't let anything happen to his girl. He smiled to himself at the thought. His girl. Emily was his girl. At least, that's what he wanted her to be. He wrapped his arms around his children and they headed towards the car park. There would be time to sort out the situation with Emily tomorrow.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty Four

  The days seemed to run into one another in Emily's mind, and all she could use to judge what was happening was the play of darkness and light across the room. Sometimes she heard her mother talking in soft tones besides the bed and wondered what she was doing here. She hadn't seen her in four years and wondered why she would care now. Because she'd been hurt? Because William Collado had nearly killed her? Emily didn't know why Monique Coulter was here, but she'd barely spoken since being admitted and never bothered to ask. It was enough to know her Mom was here, had cared enough to come. She'd thought never to have contact with her family again, but it seemed her mother had thought she was worth the trip. Obviously, Emerson Coulter hadn't felt the same, because Emily never once heard his voice.

  She had moments when she wanted to die. The pain in her back and thighs was excruciating, the agony of having the wounds dressed every day was something she avoided thinking about, because it made her muscles clench in panic. The sensation of having bloodied bandages peeled back from her wounds, and then having those wounds irrigated was enough to reduce her to a blubbering wreck. And this was only the beginning. After the wounds healed, the Doctor had warned she would require physiotherapy and remedial massage to have a chance of regaining the use of muscle that had been obliterated by William Collado's brutality.

  Emily was barely able to measure a sense of progress, it was happening so slowly that she could hardly sense any achievement. She missed her friends, missed Sally. She'd been so busy just trying to survive the next second, the next minute… she'd hardly had time to think about it, but in lucid moments, she did wonder why she hadn't seen anyone.

  She thought of Matt. A lot. Far too much, because she knew it could never work between them. Sure, he'd managed to save her from William Collado, but how could he ever forgive Emily for putting him and his family in that situation in the first place? Emily couldn't erase the sight of Matt's children, so terrified, from her mind. She'd have done anything to avoid placing them in such a horrible position. Bud had preached constant vigilance to her for two years, and she'd thrown that vigilance to the wind when Matt had dumped her. And it had come back to bite her on the ass, because through her association with Matt, he and his family had been placed in danger. It preyed on Emily's mind constantly, and as the days passed she sunk further into a sense of hopelessness. She was a busted up, useless creature who hadn't even managed to finish her degree because she'd made such a mess of her life. And it was apparent that Matt didn't want anything to do with her, because he'd never once visited her in hospital.

  Not for the first time, Emily blinked back tears and bit against her lip to stop the wave of emotional pain from drowning her. The physical pain could be controlled, with the push of a button; a shot of morphine was released into her system to keep the worst at bay. The emotional pain was something far worse, inescapable.

  Emily didn't think she would ever recover from it.

  ≈≈◊◊≈◊◊≈≈

  The days which had morphed together endlessly, began to separate into moments of clarity when Emily saw the progress she was making, was able to believe she might someday return to the real world. It began in increments, with the ability to wriggle from side to side without passing out from the pain. Then she began to be gently eased over onto her side for a few minutes at a time, and her legs exercised to avoid having clots form.

  Still, she avoided talking. What was the point? William had traumatized her to breaking point. She didn't think she'd ever resume a normal life again, didn't even know how to go on. Her mother talked about things they would do when Emily was released from hospital, she'd mentioned trips to Europe, stays in a Swiss spa, surgery to reduce the scarring left by William's beating. Emily wasn't interested in any of it. She had never touched her trust fund, not wanting anything to do with her father or his money, but now she toyed with the idea of using some of it to buy a cabin somewhere, far away from everyone and everything. Far away from the life she'd led, and the choices she'd made. Somewhere she could retreat to, as she tried to decide what would be next in her life.

  She barely listened to what her mother told her, didn't really tune into anything. What was the point? She'd held out hope, initially, that at least her friends would come and visit her, but she'd been bitterly disappointed when no one bothered. What had she done, to alienate them so badly? Emily tried to hide her disappointment from her mother, but in her moments alone, in the fancy hospital bed in the private hospital, she admitted to herself she couldn't understand why everyone had abandoned her. Was it because they
knew who she was now? Was being the daughter of Emerson Coulter enough reason for friends to abandon her?

  Progress continued, and Emily grew more cognizant with each new day. She was still deeply depressed and the hospital brought in a psychologist to work with her. Emily ignored him. He was a funny man, tall and skinny, and he had a way of sitting down in a chair, which made Emily think of a bundle of limp spaghetti being molded to fit somewhere it shouldn't. He talked, Emily didn't. She wondered when he would get sick of coming, and wouldn't bother anymore. She didn't want to deal with him.

  The big day arrived, when Emily was turned over onto her back and she was able to get a clear view of her room for the first time. It was painful to be resting on her back, but the Doctor intended to have the nursing staff turning her over at least a few times a day, and to get her out of the bed and walking by the end of the week.

  “Darling, you look wonderful,” Grace Coulter arrived and settled into her customary seat besides Emily's bed. “Dr. King tells me he'll be moving you out of ICU tomorrow, and you'll be able to have some visitors.”

  Emily glanced around the room noting the lack of flowers and cards, and shook her head sadly. “I don't think I want any visitors.”

  Grace lifted one perfectly sculptured eyebrow. “I thought you had lots of friends here in Seattle?”

  Emily bit her lip. “I thought I did.”

  Grace leaned forward in her chair. “Darling, perhaps we should take you home to San Francisco. You can continue to recuperate there, and when you're ready we'll head overseas for a while, give you a break from this trauma. I'm certain that if your father sees you've settled down and forgotten your wild ways, he'll be delighted to welcome you back into the family fold.”

  Emily glanced at her mother suspiciously for a moment, before turning her gaze towards the window. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  ≈≈◊◊≈◊◊≈≈

  Matt raked his fingers through his hair. “What do you mean, she won't see me?” He was sitting with Mandy Meccelli and Emily's mother at a coffee shop near the hospital, and he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

  Grace Coulter stirred her coffee, her eyes sympathetic as she gazed at the man sitting opposite her in the booth. “I'm so sorry, Matt.”

  Matt lifted his coffee to his mouth, sipped at the hot liquid too swiftly and burnt his tongue. He settled the cup back down on the table and lifted his gaze to meet Grace's, her eyes so similar to Emily's. Then he swung his attention over to Mandy. “What can I do?”

  “I'm not certain there's anything any of us can do, Matt.” Mandy smiled sympathetically, but Matt could see the worry in her eyes. She obviously suspected something was wrong, as much as Matt did. “We need to give her some time. I guess we all do.”

  In the six weeks since the kidnapping, Emily had been moved from ICU at Seattle Memorial to a luxurious private hospital on the outskirts of the city. Matt had followed her progress avidly, but grown increasingly frustrated with Grace Coulter, who continually insisted that Emily didn't want to see anyone. She'd stated that Emily was deeply depressed, and bitterly regretted the choices she'd made since coming to Seattle. She was seeing a psychologist, and today, after demanding Grace Coulter meet with him, Emily's mother had told him and Mandy that Emily didn't want anything to do with any of her friends in Seattle and intended returning to San Francisco with her family in the near future.

  Matt was beyond frustrated, but hell, short of barricading himself in the room with Emily until she agreed to speak to him, he didn't see that there was much he could do. Even that would prove impossible – he'd visited the hospital, seen the two goons guarding the door to Emily's room. There was no way to get passed them, despite how many plans he and Paul had concocted. Grace Coulter had become their only information network, providing him and Emily's friends with updates regarding Emily's progress, sharing news of her achievements as she recovered. Grace had explained to him, warning Matt that Emily was emotionally damaged by the kidnapping, and had lost all trust in Matt after he'd dumped her so callously. Combined with her shame and grief over the kidnapping, and Matt getting caught up in it, Grace seemed to think nothing could force Emily to see reason.

  Today had been a last ditch effort on Matt's behalf. He'd given Mrs. Coulter two dozen roses and a letter for Emily, telling her how much he loved her and wanted to have her in his life. Sitting here at the coffee table, he glanced disconsolately at the bouquet of roses, which Mrs. Coulter had returned with from the hospital. Emily had apparently asked her to take them away and politely refused to accept them. She'd refused every card, gift and well wish from anyone she knew here in Washington, and Matt had exhausted every avenue he could think of, to get to see her.

  “Matt, I know how frustrating this has been for you, but I think the best thing you can do is let Emily go,” Grace suggested carefully. Seeing Matt open his mouth to protest, she held up a hand. “I'm going to take Emily home to San Francisco, where she can be with her family and I can assure you, I'll ensure she receives the best treatment available.” She cleared her throat delicately. “Surely you can see that Seattle would hold some terrible memories for Emily, things she'd rather forget. I think you have to accept that whatever relationship you had with Emily is over.”

  Grace Coulter got to her feet, delicately wiping her lips with a napkin. “I will say my goodbyes. Emily and I will be leaving in the morning.” She held out her hand and Matt took it, numb with shock. “It's been a pleasure, Matt. I wish you the very best for your future. Goodbye, Mandy.”

  Both Matt and Mandy stared at her departing back, and Matt felt his heart seize in his chest.

  He'd blown it.

  ≈≈◊◊≈◊◊≈≈

  Emily got up out of bed, wondering why she even bothered. Every day was the same. Get up. Be served breakfast on a tray in her room by the staff. Stare out the window some. Do her rehabilitation exercises and swim in the pool for an hour, to stretch out the muscles in her back. Read by the pool for a little while before lunch was served. Go for a walk. Meet some pompous, brown-nosing, blood-sucking friends of her mother's. Afternoon tea with the next prospective suitor her parents had chosen for her. More swimming and exercises. A formal, boring and utterly horrible evening meal. Retire early. Rinse. Repeat.

  This had been her life for nearly a month now, since returning from the spa treatment in Switzerland that her mother had organized. She'd refused her parents offer of expensive plastic surgery to heal the damage on her back – she'd lived with the scars for a long time, and bizarrely, they were a reminder of a time when she'd had some control over her life. Even though they'd come from such a terrible situation – there had been times, in those two years she'd spent in Seattle – where she'd been incredibly happy. She'd thought she had such good friends, and she'd held onto the possibility, at least for a while, that she could build a future with a certain dark haired man with whisky-brown eyes.

  Sighing heavily, Emily dragged her attention away from the window, knowing that reminiscing like this was not only a waste of time, but it was also a danger to her peace of mind. Moping about wasn't going to resolve anything, and it had been made apparent from the lack of contact, that the people she'd once considered her closest friends really hadn't been her friends at all.

  Which meant, she was left with exactly nothing.

  Hearing a knock at her door, Emily drew herself up from the armchair she was settled in by the window, watching the gardeners working outside. It was more than likely one of the staff – coming to remind her to get ready for the next boring event her parents wanted her to attend. God, she hated it here. Emerson Coulter never let her forget how shameful he found her past actions, and Grace watched over her like a hawk, ensuring she was constantly guarded, like a prized possession. In fact, living here with her parents was similar to the enslavement William Collado had subjected her to for those four years. Except now, she was kept in a gilded cage, but she was still constantly subjected to someone else's rules.

&nbs
p; To Emily's surprise, it wasn't a staff member at the door, but her older sister, Charlotte. A pretty girl with dark brown hair and blue eyes similar to Emily's, Charlotte leaned in the doorway, her eyes twinkling. “Hey, you. Sick of being here yet?”

  Charlotte had flown the coop as soon as she was able, finishing her law degree before settling in New York. She was enjoying the best of both words – conforming to Emerson Coulter's ideals, whilst living far enough away to avoid his stranglehold on her life. Emily envied her, but right now, she was just glad to see a friendly face and she flung herself into Charlotte's arms. “What are you doing here?”

  Charlotte glanced up and down the expansive hallway before she responded. “Helping you escape.” She pushed Emily back into her bedroom, softly closing the door behind her before she turned back to Emily.

  Emily frowned at her sister, watching when Charlotte grabbed a suitcase from the top shelf of the walk-in wardrobe and flung it on the bed, before she opened the top drawer in Emily's bedside table and started pulling out underwear and flinging it in the bottom of the case. “I don't understand.”

  Charlotte paused and eyed Emily for a moment. “Did you seriously believe every single one of those crackpot friends of yours in Seattle had abandoned you? Really?”

  Emily crossed her arms over her chest. “Not one of them tried to contact me.”

  Charlotte shook her head, resuming her attack on Emily's drawers. “Think about it, Em. Our overbearing, rich, pompous, pain-in-the-ass parents have the opportunity to bring their black sheep back into the fold. Bring her back under control. How could they do that?”

  Emily shook her head, her mind spinning.

  “Easily, when that same black sheep gets herself attacked and terribly wounded and needs massive amounts of hospital care, followed by months of recuperation. Where better to do that, than in the sanctity of Emerson and Grace Coulter's very private, very well-guarded property?”