No Promises: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Michelle Love

  Christo shook his head as if to shake her words from his brain. “Noosh, you’re upset. Please, let’s just calm down, regroup.”

  “I don’t love you, Christofalo.”

  It was like a sledgehammer to the heart. Christo stared at her in disbelief. “What?”

  “I don’t love you. I don’t think I ever did. This was a fantasy. I don’t belong in your world. I thought I did, but you see…I was only ever interested in your money.”

  “Bullshit. That’s not you. Why are you doing this?” He cursed the fact that his voice broke, and he stepped towards her.

  “I went to see your father.”

  That floored him. “Why?”

  Noosh gave him a wan smile. “I told him that unless he gave me what I wanted, I would be gone. He didn’t give me what I wanted, so I’m gone.”

  Christo ran his hands through his hair, staring at the women he thought he knew, and didn’t recognize her. “Who are you?”

  For the first time, her voice shook. “To you, I am the past now, Christofalo. Forget me.”

  Christo stepped towards her, but Noosh stepped back and held her hands up. “Please,” she whispered. “Please, don’t.”

  “I love you, goddammit, and I know you love me. Whatever this is…it’s bullshit. You and me forever, remember? You said that!”

  “I lied.”

  “No.”

  Noosh turned away from him. “I’ll get my things. You never have to see me again.”

  Christo grabbed her arm. “Don’t walk away from me! This is… I mean, what the fuck, Noosh? Was that not you and me fucking in the alleyway tonight? Laughing, kissing, making love? Jesus Christ, I know you love me.”

  Noosh snatched her arm away from him. “Forget me, Christofalo. Forget me.”

  “Noosh…”

  She suddenly stepped towards him and pressed her lips to his. She grabbed his hand and drew something on his palm, an outline of something – a cross? What the hell? He could feel her tears on her cheeks as she rested her cheek against his for a second. “Don’t follow me.”

  Christo closed his eyes for a long moment, and when he opened them, she was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  One month later…

  Destry Papps, his face triumphant, spoke to his campaign team as they all raised their glasses. “Friends, we’re way ahead in the exit polls. When the nation goes to the vote in a month’s time, I have no doubt we will soon be having this meeting in the White House. Tomorrow, we begin a week of campaigning in the key states, and I am very excited to introduce the world to my partner in this. Ladies and gentlemen, my fiancée, Miss Sarah Marsh.”

  The room erupted in applause as Destry took Noosh by the hand. She didn’t smile or react – how could she? Destry had her pumped so full of sedatives that she could barely function. Underneath the beautiful Elie Saab dress she wore, her body was black and blue from his beatings. It had almost become a routine. Jacked up from campaigning, he would return to their hotel and use her as a punching bag. Thankfully, so far, he hadn’t raped her, but Noosh knew it wouldn’t be long before he grew tired of waiting for her to agree to have sex with him.

  He’d lied, of course. He hadn’t released her parents, but at least the beatings had stopped, and they were being cared for, albeit as hostages. “They’re being kept in a facility where they will be very comfortable.”

  “For how long? You can’t keep them prisoner forever.”

  “Can’t I?” Destry laughed, then his smile faded. “Just until you’re dead, Noosh. So, if you’re good, two years.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, nuzzling her ear. “Or until I can’t wait any longer to slide that knife into your belly. I must admit, it excites me almost as much as fucking you would.”

  “You’re a sick fuck.” She’d slapped his face, and he’d gone to town on her, punching her to the floor (careful not to bruise her face, of course) and kicked her viciously in the stomach.

  That had been last night, and now he was expecting her to play nice with his cronies. He’d obviously expected her to act up, so he had his personal physician prescribe her sedatives. Now she felt as if she were in a different world.

  The only faint glimmer of hope was Gerry Noll. When Destry had introduced her to his executive team, Gerry had looked surprised to see her – astonished, actually. Destry had known to keep them apart, however, but Noosh had seen the questions in Gerry’s eyes. She longed for the day when she could talk to Gerry alone. Maybe he would help her.

  Because she felt utterly hopeless. On the few occasions when Destry left her alone, she thought only of Christo, how heartbroken he had been. She would never forget that beautiful face broken with grief. Oh, how I love you. I love you, she thought, I’m so sorry. She had tried to give him as many clues that something wasn’t right during that last conversation – using his full name and drawing on his hand. She hadn’t dared write anything down – she didn’t know if Destry had cameras in their apartment, but she wouldn’t put it past the bastard to do so.

  But she guessed Christo hadn’t picked up on her clues. If only she could get a message to him. She figured Gerry was her best shot, but she would have to be entirely sure.

  Destry was guiding her around the room, introducing her to various people who she barely registered. She shook their hands, unsmiling, and kept quiet as Destry had instructed her to. The silent candidate for First Lady.

  First Lady…how ridiculous that sounded to her, but Noosh couldn’t comprehend that Destry would actually win the presidency. But stranger things had happened. And it’s not as if I have anything better to do. Destry had made her quit her job at the radio station and wouldn’t even allow her to speak directly to any of her former coworkers.

  In the morning, they would hold their first photo call as a ‘couple.’ Noosh felt sick at the thought of it, knowing Christo, Ally, all her friends would see her at Destry’s side and condemn her. Destry might control her outward behavior, the way she was to dress, what she said, but he couldn’t control the misery in her eyes, and she intended to let them do her talking for her.

  Please, Christo, my love, my heart, watch my eyes – in them, you’ll find everything you need to know.

  Please…

  The next morning, Christo sat in his farmhouse, where he had retreated after Noosh had left, and watched the morning news, torturing himself by watching every story on Papps and Noosh. Christo could barely stand to look at her; so beautiful, so cowed by her abuser. What the hell was wrong that she would go back to him?

  “He shot you, for chrissakes, Noosh. I know you hate him as much as I do…”

  “I might have some news on that front.”

  Christo jumped as Bertie’s voice came from behind him, then he got up to hug his friend. Bertie had been his rock for the last month, the only reason he hadn’t fallen off the wagon or offed himself. Bertie had been the one to calm his pain, his anger, and had been unwavering in his belief that Noosh had not left Christo voluntarily. “That girl loves you with all her heart, Christo. There’s more to this than we know.”

  And now he gave Christo a folder. “What we’ve found out so far. Her parents have been missing for six weeks, and what do you know, powerful people within the Met have sidelined the inquiry into their disappearance.”

  “God.” Christo looked through the papers. “So, Papps had them snatched?”

  “Looks like, and if he threatened them…”

  Christo nodded. “But it doesn’t make sense that Noosh wouldn’t come to me. And why the hell did she go see my father behind my back?”

  Bertie held his hands up. “That you’re going to ask him yourself, buddy. He won’t talk to me.” He gave a small grin. “Fog and I have never gotten along.”

  “Because you don’t take his crap,” Christo said darkly, and then sighed. “But if Noosh went to him asking for money…”

  “She said that?”

  “Well, no, but the inference was there.”

  Bertie’s mo
uth set in a grim line. “What were her exact words?”

  “That she went to my father and asked him to give her what she wanted or she, and I remember this, she said she was ‘gone,’ and that he didn’t give her what she asked for.”

  Bertie was quiet for a long moment. “Well, it certainly doesn’t sound good, but Christo, we need to know what she asked for. I’d bet my life it isn’t what we think.”

  “So…I’m going to have to see my father.”

  “If you want your lovely girl back, yes.”

  It was Christo’s turn to be quiet. “I just have this feeling… Papps will kill her, Bertie. It’s what he wants. He wants to control her life, and then he wants to kill her. We have to do something.”

  Another story flashed up about Destry and Noosh, closeups of them. Bertie and Christo watched, and then Bertie gave a small laugh. “Look what she’s doing, Christo.”

  Noosh, pale and drawn, had her fingers at her throat, playing with her necklace as the cameras zoomed in. She was tapping the dragonfly pendent, subtly but repeatedly. Christo thought back to when he had given it to her, then the terrible day she’d left him.

  “Shit.”

  “What?”

  Christo turned to his friend, life coming back into his eyes. “She was telling me, even then, that what she was saying wasn’t real. Shit, I never got it.”

  Bertie looked confused and even more so when Christo grabbed his hand and traced a pattern on his palm. “What the hell?”

  “What was that? What shape?”

  “I don’t know, dude, a cross?”

  Christo smiled for the first time in weeks. “No, man, it’s a dragonfly. It’s our safe word. She was trying to let me know she was in danger.” He nodded at the television. “And that’s what she’s doing there. She’s asking for my help.” He got up, grabbing his coat and heading for the door.

  Bertie, still a little bemused, trailed him. “Where are we going?”

  Christo, his eyes alive with anger and hope, smiled grimly at him. “We’re going to see my father.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “You did well today,” Destry said in the car back to the hotel. “Everyone was very impressed.”

  “By what?” The sedatives were wearing off now, and Noosh felt cantankerous, wanted to goad him. “The dead-eyed half smiles, the look of disgust every time your filthy hands touched me?”

  Destry gave a half-smile. “It’s almost like you’re asking me to punish you. But then again, that’s what you and the criminal were into, wasn’t it? Tell me, did he spank you?”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  Destry laughed. “Well, speaking of fucking, I think tonight I’ll be staying in your room.”

  Noosh froze. “No.”

  “It wasn’t a question. And if you know what’s good for you, Anoushka, you’ll at least pretend to enjoy it.”

  Noosh turned to stare at him for a long moment. “What happened to you, Destry? What made you like this?”

  Destry didn’t answer, and Noosh gave him a cruel smile. “Did Mommy not wuv wittle Destry enough?”

  His fist connected with her face so hard that her head bounced into the window and cracked it. Noosh felt as if her cheekbone had shattered. Destry was on her then, unhitching his seat belt and dragging her to the floor of the limousine.

  It took less than five minutes, but Noosh felt like dying the whole time. Concussed, she had no way to fight him off, and as Destry came inside her, she closed her eyes and wanted death. When she felt the steel against her skin, she opened her eyes.

  “Do it. Kill me, you bastard.” She grabbed the knife in his hand and tried to stab herself. “I’d rather be dead than have you ever touch me again.”

  Destry, calming from his rage now, pulled the knife away and dragged her back to the seat. “Don’t ever talk to me like that again, bitch. Here, clean yourself up.” He threw a pack of tissues at her.

  Her head hurt so bad, but Noosh didn’t care. She shrank away from him and curled up on the seat, pressing a tissue to the cuts on her head. Fucker. Her anger soon gave way to shock by the time they reached the hotel and were spirited up to their suite, not through the foyer, but via the goods elevator. A practiced maneuver, Noosh thought. She swayed a little, her head spinning, but Destry made no move to steady her. Noosh stumbled out into the penthouse as the elevator reached Destry’s suite.

  To her surprise, Gerry was there, and he looked up with a smile that faded when he saw her battered face, the blood on her clothes. Noosh turned her head so he could see the damaged to the right side of her face.

  “What the hell?”

  “Anoushka, go to your room. I’ll send Dr. Jacobs in to help you. Gerry, shut your mouth, you look like a goldfish.”

  When Noosh didn’t move, Destry sighed in exasperation and grabbed her upper arm, dragging her to her room and practically throwing her in.

  Noosh slammed the door behind him and pushed her dresser across the doorway. Destry wouldn’t be getting in here this night. Why would he want to? He’d taken what he wanted in the car.

  Noosh went to her en-suite and cranked on the faucet on the tap. A second later, she turned it off. Evidence. She should collect as much evidence as she could of what he had done to her, but how? She didn’t have a phone or a camera to take pictures of her injuries. She sat down on the cool tile floor, tugging off her shoes, ripping her way out of the dress she had worn for the photo calls and interviews. Ha, interviews. She barely spoke, and when she did, she made sure it was in a cold, dead voice. Still, she had done what she had done from the start of this charade. Dragonfly. Dragonfly. Every time she was on camera she touched it repeatedly, hoping against hope that Christo would see it, understand.

  Help me. Save me. I love you.

  Noosh began to cry softly. She didn’t understand how the hell she was going to deal with what little life she had left. She was going to die, that was clear, but Destry wouldn’t hurt anyone else if she could help it.

  There was a gentle tapping at her bedroom door, and she sighed. “Go away, Destry. You’ve already taken enough from me.”

  “It’s Gerry, Noosh.”

  She hesitated for a moment then pushed her dresser aside and let him in. He held up a first aid kit. “His majesty changed his mind about calling the doctor. So here I am.” He touched her face. “Jesus, Noosh, what happened?”

  “You know what happened,” she said roughly. She walked back into her room, glancing at the first aid box he held. “Got a rape kit in there?”

  Gerry’s face paled. “No,” he said quietly, “no, I haven’t. God, really? Christ.”

  Noosh’s smile was unfriendly, her eyes narrowed. “You knew. You knew what he was like, what he did to me. What he did to Telly. Don’t plead ignorance now, Gerry. You were complicit.”

  Gerry set the first aid box down on the bed. “Come sit, let me deal with that.”

  Noosh was unwilling, but she knew her wounds needed dressing. Her wounds. Jesus. H. Christ, who lived like this? She let Gerry clean the cuts, press butterfly stiches onto them. “I wonder what lie he’ll tell the public about this.”

  Gerry sighed. “He’s already put out a press statement. A car wreck.”

  “Let me guess: As Senator Papps and his companion were driving back to their hotel, their car was hit by a hit-and-run driver. Both Senator Papps and his companion – I don’t merit an actual name – were slightly injured, although, miraculously, Senator Papps doesn’t have a scratch on him, and his whore looks like she’s gone five rounds with Floyd Mayweather.”

  Gerry gave her a smile. “At least you still have your sense of humor.”

  Noosh shot him a glare, “You think rape is funny too? Murder? Kidnapping my parents?”

  “I’m sorry. Noosh,” he lowered his voice, “do you think you’re the only one he’s manipulated?”

  Noosh studied him. “No, but I’m probably the only one he’s personally put three bullets into. He probably gets his goons to do ev
eryone else.”

  Gerry had gone very still. “What?”

  Noosh smiled coldly. “He shot me, Gerry. In cold blood, at point-blank range.”

  She saw Gerry blanch, and she gasped. “You really didn’t know?”

  He shook his head. “God, no, I…never thought him capable of that.”

  Noosh made a disgusted sound. “Either you’re lying, or you’re naïve.” She studied him. “He’s going to kill me, you know. He told me to my face. When the mid-terms come up, I’ll be mysteriously murdered. Sympathy for the candidate means he wins in a landslide. My life means nothing now, Gerry.”

  Gerry closed his eyes. “What can I do?”

  “Help me.”

  “How?”

  Noosh sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “Hey.” They both jumped as one of Destry’s bodyguards appeared in the doorway. “The Senator asked that you both join him in the living room. There’s some breaking news.”

  Noosh and Gerry looked at each other, but both obediently followed the bodyguard into the main room of the suite. Destry gave Noosh a cruel smile. “Come sit with me, Anoushka.”

  Sighing, she did as she was told. No use antagonizing him now. If Gerry was going to help her, it paid to keep Destry as sweet as possible, so he didn’t suspect anything.

  On the television, the news anchor was talking about a car being found by the Brooklyn Bridge.

  “The vehicle was identified as belonging to Telly Wyatt, New York socialite and the former wife of presidential candidate Destry Papps. Police indicate that, sadly, they believe Ms. Wyatt jumped from the bridge to her death. A source close to the Wyatt family told AP that Ms. Wyatt has experienced depression since her divorce and that lately, she had seemed secretive and withdrawn.”

  Noosh felt shock travel through her – she glanced at Gerry, who looked as if he might pass out. Of course. She’d forgotten that Gerry had loved Telly.

  “Well, that’s going to save me a shit ton of money every month.” Destry sat back, grinning. Some of his security chuckled uneasily, but both Noosh and Gerry stayed silent. Destry looked at them. “Come on, that’s a little funny, at least.”