by Hannah Ford
He placed me gently on the ground then stood up and wrapped his hand around mine. “Let’s go do something.”
“Like what?”
He pulled me close to him, his chest pressing against mine. “I’m taking you to lunch.”
“You just ordered room service!”
“Fuck room service. You are way too beautiful and perfect to be squirreled away in some pretentious hotel room. Let’s go enjoy the city.”
This time, when he led me down the hallway of the hotel, I felt nothing but happiness.
***
We had lunch at Gramercy Tavern, where we opted to sit in the tavern section of the restaurant instead of the stuffier dining room. Even on the tavern side the space was opulent and sophisticated, all dark oak and round tables. Wide wooden planks ran parallel to each other across the high ceiling and the shelf behind the sprawling bar was stocked with top shelf liquor.
Noah ordered for us, heirloom tomato salad with peaches and pine nuts to start, smoked pork shoulder with peppers for our entrée, and a strawberry shortcake ice cream sandwich for dessert.
Our conversation was light, focusing not on anything to do with the Lilah Parks case or my sessions with Dr. Jason Cartwright, but on plans for the new office, decorating ideas I had, how crazy my mom had been for talking to those reporters. I kept looking for an opening, a way to bring up what had happened to me on the way to the hotel with the man who’d accosted me while I was in the car.
I decided to do it as soon as lunch was over, when we were safely back in our apartment, but as we walked outside, Noah had other plans.
“Let’s go and do something for our wedding,” he said.
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Plan something. Buy something. Taste a cake, pick out a dress.”
I giggled. “I don’t think you can just go and do things like that,” I said. “I think you need to have appointments. And besides, you can’t go with me to pick out my dress! It’s bad luck.”
“Register?” He waved his hand over his head. “I always see people in movies registering with one of those little wands.”
I shook my head. “I’m not registering for gifts.” It would be strange, I thought, to expect our friends and family to bring us gifts, when Noah (we?) already had so much.
“Right.” Noah nodded, understanding my thinking without either of us having to say anything. “We could do donations in lieu of gifts?”
“Yes.” I bit my lip, thinking about it. “Books.”
“What?”
“Donations of books. I read this article once, about the amount of children who don’t even own one book, and it just… it stayed with me. I found it so completely sad. We could register for books. Not just for children, but for adults, we could distribute them to homeless shelters, food banks…”
Noah nodded, his eyes brightening. “I know just the place.”
Twenty minutes later, we pulled up in front of The Strand, a huge independent bookstore on Broadway and 125th. The bright red wraparound sign out front boasted that there were eighteen miles of books inside.
We walked in and I inhaled that wonderful scent of books and paper, the kind of scent you couldn’t get at a big chain bookstore anymore, because it had been beaten out with the smell of coffee and the plastic of their general merchandise sections.
“Have you been here before?” Noah asked as we made our way through the displays to the floor-to-ceiling rows of fiction.
I shook my head. “No.” It made me sad, thinking about how close this place had been, and how I’d never taken the time to enjoy it. I made a vow to get out and enjoy New York more, no matter how crazy things got with the school and the wedding and our new case.
We reached the mystery and thriller section, and I ran my hands over the smooth spines of the books, that familiar excitement growing inside of me. Books. I remembered what it had been like when I was younger, the trips to the bookstore my mom would take me on every Sunday. She had failed me as a mother in a lot of ways, but one of the things she had given me was a love of books. She’d let me read everything and anything, and because of that, my tastes were eclectic.
“Make a list,” Noah said. “Pick your favorites. As many as you want. We’ll put them on a website, people can buy them from their independents, and we’ll have them shipped to the reception.”
“We will?”
“Yes,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “We’ll put together a tower of books. We can supplement it with ones we buy ourselves, and then before we leave for our honeymoon, we can deliver them to the places of your choice.”
I smiled and couldn’t help but clap my hands. I threw my arms around him, burying my face in his neck, and I felt like maybe he was blushing just a little bit.
“It’s not that big of a deal, Charlotte,” he said sheepishly. “But I am happy to have pleased you.” Noah’s phone rang then, and he pulled it out and looked at it. “I have to take this,” he said.
I raised my eyebrows at him, questioning.
“It’s not about Lilah.” He offered no further information, instead disappearing back toward the front of the store, his tone annoyed as he barked instructions to whoever had just called him.
I pulled out my own phone and started making a list in the notes section, tapping out authors and titles. There were so many books I wanted to register for already, and I hadn’t even made my way to the romance section.
It was a few moments later when I heard two girls talking through the stacks.
“That was Noah Cutler,” one of them said.
“Holy shit, he is smokin’,” the other one said. “Even hotter than his pictures.”
“Gorgeous and rich,” the other one said wistfully. “How come I never meet men like that?”
Because he loves me, I thought to myself, looking down at my engagement ring which was so bright it sparkled even under the dim industrial track lighting of the bookstore.
I sighed and allowed myself a moment of happiness, then crouched down and began adding more titles to my list.
I’d moved to romance and was wondering if it would be inappropriate to add some erotic romance when my phone buzzed in my hand.
A text.
From John.
“Hi, Charlotte – thank you for speaking with me today, and I am sorry if I scared you. Would you be willing to meet me tonight at my apartment? Six o’clock? I can explain everything then.”
He’d followed it up with the address of an apartment high on the west side – past the neighborhoods known for being liberal and earthy crunchy, past Morningside Heights and deep into Harlem. I swallowed around the lump in my throat.
I was going to have to tell Noah. Right away. As soon as we left the bookstore.
I should have told him before, but with everything going on with Lilah, there hadn’t been a good time.
It’s not keeping a secret, I told myself. It’s just a delay.
I heard the sound of Noah’s footsteps echoing across the wood floors of the bookstore before I saw him.
“Charlotte,” he said.
“Hi,” I said, shoving my phone quickly back into my bag and standing up, the newest J. Kenner book in my hand. “Do you think it would be wildly inappropriate to be displaying sexy romance covers at our wedding? My mom would have a conniption, I think, although she definitely reads them. They’re shoved in a bin under her bed that’s marked ‘Winter Sweaters.’”
I looked up from the cover, the smile on my face fading as I took in Noah’s dark expression.
“Charlotte,” he said again. His voice and demeanor were controlled, so controlled it sent a shiver of trepidation through my body. He reached out and took the book out of my hand, placed it back on the shelf, not bothering to make sure it was in the right place.
“Yes?”
“I was just on a business call,” he said, “when Jared called.”
My breath hitched.
So that was it.
Jared had told Noah, had told him about John and how he’d come up to me in the car.
“Charlotte?” Noah prompted.
“I was just about to tell you about that,” I said.
“You were just about to tell me that you were followed by a crazy person, and that you not only chose to engage with him, but you gave him a way to contact you and then failed to mention it to me?”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, that’s not what happened. What happened was he told me that he knows where Mikayla is.”
Noah’s nostrils flared, and he reached out and grabbed the bookshelf closest to him, his hand tightening around the metal.
“I was in the car the whole time,” I said. “And Jared shouldn’t have told you about it. I was going to tell you. I was just about to.”
“Don’t you dare blame Jared for this,” Noah said. “I should fire him for not telling me sooner.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, it’s not his fault, he didn’t do anything wrong.”
“When you are not in my sight, when you are not in my care, Jared is next in line. If he is not capable of keeping you safe, if he is starting to feel a misplaced loyalty to you, then he will have to be let go.”
“No!” I said. I would feel horrible if Jared lost his job because of me. And besides, Noah needed him. Jared was a good man, a good driver. I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone. “Here. I’m sorry, I was going to tell you, I swear. His name is John. He wants to meet with me tonight.” I showed him the text.
Noah’s gaze held mine for a long moment before sliding down to the phone and reading the text.
His jaw twitched.
“Absolutely not.”
“What?”
“No.”
“No what?”
“No, you are not going to some rundown apartment in Harlem to meet with a stranger.”
“But he might be able to help me find Mikayla.”
“Charlotte,” Noah said, his voice raising and echoing through the stacks. “Enough with this! Enough with Mikayla.”
“But you just said the other day when I came out of the jail, you said this was just how we were.”
“Yes, Charlotte, I understand you think you need to do this, but I will not sit by and let you put yourself in danger. It is my responsibility to protect you, and I will do that at all costs. Even if that seems unfair or inconvenient to you.”
“Unfair or inconvenient?” I repeated incredulously. “Are you kidding me? I don’t see what could possibly be unfair or inconvenient about trying to save a girl’s life.”
“You can’t save her, Charlotte. You cannot save everyone.”
His words cut through me like a knife, and an image of my dad, how small and helpless he’d looked on his last days, after the cancer had ravaged his body beyond repair, flashed through my memory. “I know,” I said. “But I can try to save her.”
“You don’t know anything about where she is, who she is, who she could be caught up with.”
“That’s why I need to go see John!” I said. “So I can get more information.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I won’t allow it.”
“Oh, really?” I said. “Okay, fine. Then I’m not going to allow you to represent Lilah.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Talk about inconvenient and unfair, how about taking a million dollars and risking it on some girl you know nothing about?”
“I have an obligation as her lawyer to make sure she is getting the best, fairest treatment possible.”
“And I have a responsibility as a human being to make sure that nothing bad happens to those girls.”
“No,” he growled, and then he was against me, his hips pushing into mine, pinning me against the bookstore shelves. “You have an obligation to me. To do as I say. To stay safe.” He traced a finger down the side of my cheek, and I could see a vein popping in his forehead. “I don’t give a fuck about Mikayla or anyone else. What I care about is you.”
He kissed me, and I felt my resolve begin to weakness. I wanted to give myself to him, wanted to submit to him, to give my body over to him, to let him make decisions and take care of me.
But the other part of me rebelled against it, pushing me to stop him, to tell him no, that I had a say in this relationship too, that his need to control everything wasn’t going to obliterate what I thought was right.
“Noah,” I said. “Noah.”
The sound of his name on my lips excited him, and he began kissing my neck.
“I have to,” I said softly. “Don’t you realize that I have to?”
He released me then and stepped away from me, his eyes blazing.
Then he turned and walked out of the bookstore, leaving me struggling to catch up.
***
“Where are you going?” I asked once we were back on the streets of New York. My voice was loud, almost a yell really, but it became nothing but background noise against the sounds of the city.
“Get in the car, Charlotte,” Noah said, as he opened the passenger side door.
“No.” I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. “Not until you tell me where we’re going.”
His jaw twitched again, his fingers tightening around the door handle. I could tell my disobedience was getting him more worked up. But I didn’t care. He was acting like an arrogant, entitled asshole. I understood he was used to getting his way, expected it even. But I had thoughts and feelings, too.
“Charlotte,” he said. “Get. In. The. Car.”
“No.”
“Fine.” He growled the word and moved toward me, lifting me up off the ground like it was nothing and setting me in the passenger seat. He slid the seatbelt across my chest, letting his hand linger on my breast. He clicked the belt into the buckle and tugged on it, making sure it was tied tightly. Then he tugged it again, and I gasped at the tightness, the belt cutting into my skin.
He looked at me sharply, his lips just inches from mine. He opened his mouth to speak, maybe to say something, to warn me not to defy him, to give me some hint of what was coming.
But then he changed his mind, and instead said nothing.
He closed the door and walked around the car, slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine before guiding the car into the city traffic.
A couple of blocks later, he double parked next to a Range Rover.
“Don’t move,” he said.
He got out, activating the child locks so I couldn’t have moved even if I wanted to.
I watched through the windshield as he walked into a tiny bodega on the corner. Three women and a man turned to look at him as he went by, admiring the strong line of his body, the broadness of his shoulders, the way he walked with confidence and strength, like every stride was announcing to the world that he was untouchable.
He returned a few moments later with a brown paper bag, which he set down on the floor.
I swallowed, not sure I wanted to know what was in the bag.
“What’s in there?” I asked.
Noah ignored me, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight as he pulled the car toward the east, heading back toward our apartment.
“Are you taking me home?” I asked.
“I was.”
He spoke in the past tense, and didn’t offer any further explanation. I wanted to ask him where we were going, what his new plan was, but I knew it would be fruitless. There was no way he was going to answer me.
A few moments later, he pulled up in front of a fancy looking building on the Upper East Side. It looked like an apartment building, one of those buildings that realtors splashed on their brochures to show they were worthy of the kind of clientele who could afford to live in building like this.
Noah got out of the car and walked around, opened the door for me.
“Get out of the car, Charlotte.”
I stepped onto the sidewalk, the blast of air that came out of the grate below reminding me I had no pantie
s on. I pulled at the bottom of my skirt self-consciously, even though I was more than covered.
Noah led me to the side of the building, where there was a large steel door marked “LAUNDRY.”
He pulled a key from his pocket, slid it into the lock, and opened the door.
“What is this?” I asked, trying to peer inside. But I couldn’t see anything but darkness.
The expression on Noah’s face changed for just a second, the hard angle of his jaw softening as he took me in. “Do you trust me?” he whispered.
I nodded.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion and desire. “I need to hear you say it.”
“I trust you.”
He pushed the door all the way open, then reached his hand in and flipped on the light.
I walked into the room.
It was a small room, windowless, the walls cinderblocks.
There was nothing in it.
No, that wasn’t true. It wasn’t that there was nothing in it, there was just nothing normal in it. No beds, no furniture, no washing machines like the outside sign would lead you to believe.
There were only three things in the room, each one sending a deeper shiver down my spine.
The first thing was a filing cabinet. Actually, it wasn’t just one filing cabinet. It was a whole wall filled with filing cabinets, all of them the same gun-metal grey. Each one was locked not with a normal lock and key mechanism, but with a thick padlock, like whatever was inside was so important it needed to be guarded extra safely.
The second thing in the room was a cage. It was high and square like a jail cell. It was tall, so tall it almost reached the ceiling, and shackles hung in random intervals from the steel bars.
The third thing in the room was actually inside of the cage. It was an L-shaped metal contraption. The base was covered in shag carpet, and the long part of the L was made up of a metal rod that stood straight up in the air. Off of this metal rod were three smaller metal rods sticking out perpendicular to the first rod, two of them with cuffs, one of them with what looked like a dildo stuck to the end of it.
Other that that, the room was bare.
Noah closed the door behind him and locked it with an audible click.