101 Nights Box Set: Volume One

by SE Reign

  I wasn’t.

  “I take it if you’re here, we have to move again.” There’s a quiet note in Suleyma’s voice.

  She leads me into the living room, a cozy area with a large window looking out over the front yard. She sits, and I drop onto the couch.

  “Yeah. Time to move,” I reply.

  “Layla’s happy here, Elijah,” she ventures.

  “Her safety is more important.”

  “Your father hasn’t found us, has he?”

  “No. If we keep moving and quiet, he never will,” I assure her. “How’s she doing?”

  “Great.” Suleyma’s face breaks into a smile. “Top of her class, chased by all the boys. She’ll be wearing braces on her legs until she’s eighteen and her bones stop growing, according to the doctors.”

  I listen. Layla is well provided for – this I know. She’s got a trust fund hidden away in offshore accounts and money for her care is held openly in accounts Suleyma owns. On paper, the woman before me is a multi-millionaire, which she claims was an inheritance, when asked.

  She lives smartly, spending money on average homes in average towns around the Midwest. They moved every six months the first three years and then once a year after.

  “Where do you want us to go?” she asks.

  “George has a spot picked out in Colorado,” I reply.

  She sighs.

  I can’t get Natalie’s words out of my head about how I run over the people of importance in my life. I can see the distraught look that crosses Suleyma’s features at the thought of moving again. I can’t imagine it’s easy for her to live the lie she must to keep Layla from finding out who she really is.

  This life is so much better than mine was at her age, even if it’s hard in a different way.

  “Unless … is there a place you would prefer to go?” I ask. I don’t know if this is what Natalie had in mind when she told me about being more respectful to people’s choices.

  Suleyma eyes widen in surprise. She’s quiet for a moment then smiles. “Layla constantly talks about Texas and cowboys. If it’s too late to change the plans to Colorado, can we go somewhere in Texas next time?”

  “I’ll have George move you to Texas this round.”

  “Thank you for asking. Sometimes it’s a little overwhelming not to know or have any control over our lives.”

  Wow. So maybe Natalie is onto something. One simple question, and the strain is gone from Suleyma’s features.

  She begins speaking again, telling me about Layla’s classes. My mind, however, is elsewhere, on Natalie. On how hurt she was pretending not to be last night when I mentioned my father’s edict.

  On how, of all the things in life I should probably regret but don’t, losing her before we see where this relationship can go is the one thing I’ll probably never get over.

  Chapter Nine: Natalie

  It’ll probably be one of the last nights I’m in a bed this comfortable, but I don’t sleep well at all. I have an event scheduled this evening, which gives me time to get my thoughts straight.

  After a quick breakfast, I leave the kitten with an unimpressed Jamil then join the awaiting security team in the basement for a ride over to my apartment. I’m beginning to think I need to do more than clean out the fridge. I should probably straighten up for my inevitable trip home.

  I don’t know why the idea depresses me so much. I barely register our route to the apartment building, not forcing myself out of my stupor until I see the media waiting in front of my building. I have a feeling they’ve never left, staking out the one place they figure I’ll come back to, if not to grab stuff from my apartment then to see my parents.

  With a deep breath, I straighten my sweater and prepare for a quick walk through the press on my way to my apartment. I don’t feel like smiling today, but I know I need to.

  The moment the door opens, the flashes and questions start. A gust of wind makes my short curls fly around my head. I love the feeling and grin big, swiping my hair out of my eyes with one hand and stepping forward to join the security team.

  One of them takes my arm, not allowing me any time at all to stop for a picture. We reach the lobby, and the doors close behind me. One of them stays in the lobby while another accompanies me to the fourth floor, where my apartment is.

  “Oh, god.” Alisha is right; I can smell my apartment before I reach the doorway. I glance at the security guy and mumble an apology. “Sorry. I left something in the fridge I shouldn’t have.”

  He doesn’t seem to care and opens the door. After a quick once through, he leaves me to my apartment.

  It’s so tiny and messy, compared to where I’ve been living. I stand in the quiet living room, noticing for the first time how musty it is and how the light from the windows doesn’t reach half the corners. I never thought it was depressing or dark before.

  As much as I hate admitting it, I love Elijah’s new apartment. There’s so much light and warmth and homeliness to it …

  “No use thinking like that, Natty,” I murmur. Nose wrinkling, I deposit my purse on the dining table then enter the kitchen and wrench open the door to the fridge.

  There’s an entire turkey in the middle of the top shelf, as if I’d taken it from the freezer to thaw it out then forgotten about it.

  Except I didn’t. There’s no way I’d buy a Thanksgiving-sized turkey to feed just me.

  I stare at it, uncertain how a turkey that size got in my fridge. It’s definitely been there for a while. It absolutely reeks, and there’s a puddle of god-knows-what on the shelf that’s dripped to the other shelves.

  “So gross.” Irritated, I grab a trash bag from under the kitchen sink and open it, pausing to figure out the best way to remove the beast. Finally, I drape the bag over it and pick it up in one movement. “Gross, gross, gross!” I’m so disgusted by the smell, I almost drop it.

  I double wrap it then set it on the ground, ready to tackle the horrible smelling goo left over in the fridge. My gaze settles on a small baggy in the center of the shelf. It was hidden beneath the turkey.

  My name is written on the paper inside the baggy in Alisha’s overly curly, girly handwriting.

  I know for a fact I didn’t do that. I grab it with a paper towel and hold it over the sink, opening the stinking bag and carefully reaching into it to grab the contents. Inside is a letter and a bulky envelope.

  Dumping the baggy in another trash bag, I wash my hands then pick up the letter.

  Hey-

  Sorry for the smoke and mirrors and stinky turkeys. Something weird is going on. I think I found out what, but that bastard George hacked me and ... anyway. I’ll deal with him later. They DO NOT want this secret found out. You were so right about there being something going on. I’m only doing this to protect you, Natty.

  PLEASE - You need to go to the address in the envelope like now. There’s a wig in the veggie drawer and disposable cell phone under the sink in the box with the trash bags. Use that to call me when you get to Ohio and TELL ME IF I’M RIGHT. But only when you get to Ohio then throw it away. I’m so fucking good, I know I am, but then I can tell George he’s FULL OF SHIT.

  Love you!

  Alisha

  “You are insane, Alisha.” I read the note again. I’m not surprised she’s got some sort of conspiracy theory, but I am surprised she went to this trouble to get this information to me.

  I’m also disturbed that Elijah’s head of security is actively trying to suppress whatever Alisha found. I mean, George wouldn’t act without Elijah’s direction. Elijah was doing more than vetting my friends and me; he was doing some really fascist shit.

  I retrieve the cell phone first. Opening the envelope, I take out a new driver’s license with my pic. I laugh. She’s given me blonde hair in the fake ID.

  I go to the fridge again and open the veggie drawer to find a blonde wig there.

  “What on earth, Alisha?” Tossing it on the counter next to the phone, I return to the envelope. She’s stuffed cas
h, a solitary key to a car with the description taped to its tag, a map she printed off of Google with the words LEAVE NO ELECTRONIC FOOTPRINT scrawled across the top, and an address on a sticky note.

  Kallista King again. The words she’s written under the name jump out at me.

  He’s got a wife in Ohio. Or a daughter. Someone he’s hiding.

  “What?” I re-read it. My heart flips, and I’m not sure why I’m hoping it’s a daughter.

  Elijah is getting ready to dump me, and I’m actually upset about it.

  I shouldn’t be. I should be thanking Alisha for the information and giving me another reason to stay strong and walk away.

  “Wife,” I say through gritted teeth. “It’s gotta be.” My heart drops a second time, and I can’t help thinking I really will be devastated if this is the case.

  Shaking my head, I lean against the counter to think this through. Alisha wants me to go on some wild goose chase, to drive eight hours to some stranger’s house, and tell her if the person there is Elijah’s wife or daughter.

  It’s crazy. Absolutely mad. My relationship with Elijah is going to be over soon. So … why should I bother?

  I read her note again.

  They DO NOT want this secret found out.

  And then I remember what I originally asked her for. Insurance. Leverage. Something I can use to make sure Elijah follows through with his promise to spare Tenley block.

  I straighten. “My god. You really did it, Alisha.” She found something not even the press knows about. Intrigued, I begin to understand why I do need to go there and find out what this secret is.

  Because, when this all ends in a few days and I’m out of the picture, Elijah can very easily decide the money is more important than a promise he made to an ex-fiancée.

  Do I trust him enough to let this opportunity pass me up?

  Chewing my lip, I review everything I know about him, thoughts lingering on why I’m about to be exiting his life in the first place. Because he was choosing his throne over something more meaningful.

  He was taking the easy way out.

  “Shit.” No matter what I feel for him, no matter how much I want to believe in that good part of him I’ve seen, the simple answer is that I can’t place the fate of my family and friends in the hands of a man who values money and prestige over everything else.

  Especially once I’m out of the picture.

  I definitely trust Alisha’s intentions more than Elijah, even if what she’s asking me to do sounds crazy.

  I pick up the key and squint to read the directions she’s squeezed onto the round key tag.

  Black Taurus in my parking spot. Clothes and snacks in trunk.

  “My Alisha,” I murmur with a smile. “Always prepared for everything.” I can’t believe I’m thinking about straight out leaving.

  My pulse quickens at the idea of this crazy adventure, and my mind races. After a brief hesitation, I text the security guys.

  Going to visit parents and some friends. Will be a few hours.

  Then I shove everything into my purse. The response from the security team is quick.

  We’ll be in lobby. Call if you need anything.

  I read Alisha’s note once more. This isn’t the first time she’s helped me disappear, and I review the precautions she had me take last time. I did it successfully, disappearing from my apartment one day and returning three months later.

  To avoid an electronic signature, that means no going online. At all. No cell phone but the one she gave me, no portable GPS or any sort of electronics, and wearing the wig and probably sunglasses so I can slide by cameras on the street and tollbooths. With a new ID and cash, I can pay for fuel all the way to Ohio and find a cheap, ratty motel outside of Dayton to crash in.

  My paranoid friend has taught me well.

  All I have to do is disappear, check it out and come back tomorrow. It’ll probably freak people like Elijah’s security team out, but I need to do what will protect those I care about.

  I need to know his secret.

  I set down the phone he got me on the counter and gaze at it. I’m aching inside from the idea of destroying what remains of the good part of him I’ve seen. It makes me a little sick to know what I’m doing and how much worse my relationship with Elijah might get, if he finds out.

  Actually, it makes me completely nauseated. Placing a hand over my mouth, I stand perfectly still, willing the sensation to pass. I shouldn’t feel this way about him. He’s been kind to me in his own way, but I don’t know if it’ll stick, if he’ll follow through with his promises of his own free will.

  He will. He does care. This voice is the most troublesome. There’s an angry part of me that doesn’t want to believe in him, that’s still furious that he’s taken over my life.

  The sense that I need to vomit isn’t leaving. I hurry around the counter and race down the hallway to the bathroom. Tossing up the toilet seat, I drop to my knees and throw up the breakfast Jamil so carefully prepared for me.

  I heave for a few minutes, the acrid smell and taste disgusting me. When the convulsing in my stomach ceases, I sag back against the wall and wait another minute before standing and wetting a washcloth.

  It’s not like me to throw up out of emotion. I still feel queasy and lean over the sink, waiting to see what my stomach decides to do. It’s not twisting but it’s not fully stable yet, either.

  I’ve got to have some sort of bug. There’s no other explanation. I feel perfectly fine otherwise. No fever or flushed features or anything.

  I clean up and brush my teeth then leave the bathroom. My stomach is not happy, and I wonder if Jamil used some spice that didn’t sit well with me. When I return to the kitchen, there’s a text waiting.

  We need to talk in person. It’s from the mystery texter.

  I stare at it. There’s no way I’m going to meet with the psycho following me. I don’t even open the text, not wanting him to think I’ve read it. Instead, I pull out the map.

  Eight hours one way. There’s a lot of stuff that can happen over that time period, even more over two days. I’m constantly hounded by press. What if I’m discovered? What if Elijah calls in the police and everyone else the moment the security team realizes I’m gone?

  Considering the map, I start to think a better idea is to keep this information in my back pocket and use it later, if I need to. I’m not sure why Alisha’s note insists I go now.

  I pull it out, torn. I trust her more than anyone, so I shouldn’t be questioning her instructions. And yet, it won’t be that easy to disappear this time. I’m a celebrity now, deserving or no, and celebrities can’t just disappear without people noticing.

  What makes this secret time sensitive? The fact that George knows she figured it out? I have no doubt Elijah can probably make whoever this is go away quickly, which means, if I don’t have some proof this Kallista exists ...

  “God, Alisha. Why did you have to pick now to do this?” She isn’t the source of my frustration. I know this, but I’m standing in my kitchen stressing out over a mysterious note she left me and feeling like I need to throw up again.

  Wife or daughter. He’d said an illegitimate heir would keep him off the throne, but a wife? Didn’t his father want him to have a wife? What need would he have to hide a wife?

  Something isn’t fitting right in this picture. I don’t know enough to know what, and I don’t know what to do.

  Stay or go.

  Trust or leverage.

  I head to the bathroom, swept away by the urge to throw up again. I’ve already lost the contents of my stomach and end up dry heaving until my head hurts. Tears squeeze from my eyes. After I’ve cleaned up once again, I sit down at the kitchen table with water and crackers, nibbling on them while waiting for my painkillers to start working.

  Feeling terrible, I start to think there’s no way I’m going to drive anywhere when I’m sick. I rest my head on the table, not wanting to move.

  A knock at my door startles me.
I lift my head and stare at it, judging the stability of my stomach, then rise and answer it.

  My mother is in the hallway. Surprised but happy to see her after our terse text exchanges, I open the door and let her in.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  She enters, and we stand in awkward quiet for a moment.

  “Alisha wasn’t joking about the meat,” she says. “I could’ve taken care of it, but she insisted you do it.”

  “You know how Alisha is,” I reply.

  “You okay, baby?” Mom is studying me, probably trying to figure out why I’ve been crying.

  “Yeah. Come in.” I return to the table. Standing up makes me nauseated again, and I sink into my chair.

  Mom takes in the crackers and water but doesn’t press. She looks more tired than I’ve seen before, the strain of my father’s deteriorating health in her features.

  “So, how’s life?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light. “Dad doing okay?”

  “He will be, yes.” A faint smile crosses my mother’s face. “I despise the man you plan on marrying, but I have to admit – his money will help.”

  “He can come across as very …” I seek the right word for Elijah. “Self-absorbed maybe. But he did it to help.” Mostly.

  “Is there a better person behind the self-absorbed one?” she asks. My mother is nothing if not blunt.

  “Unfortunately, I think so,” I reply with some regret. “Buried deep but present all the same.”

  “Things aren’t going well.”

  “I can’t talk about it, mom.”

  “He make you sign some sort of non-disclosure thing?”

  “We’re dealing with stuff, and I have a headache.”

  She purses her lips. I know she doesn’t want to drop it, but I’m almost ready for another trip to the bathroom and am not feeling very tolerant.

  “I want you to be happy, baby,” she says again. “Whatever form that takes. Even if that means he won’t let you see us much anymore.”

  “It’s not him, Mom.” I sigh. “I am trying to keep my life with him separate from you guys. You don’t want to be surrounded by the press all day and night. I want to protect you, especially since Dad is so sick.”