by K. I. Lynn
In my room everything was in place, the maid having cleaned at some point after she left.
Upon entering the kitchen, nothing looked out of place but something sitting on the island caught my eye. Lying in contrast against the white granite counter were two square black items. I cautiously approached, recognizing the first one as her de Loughrey black credit card and directly beneath it the black card with the de Loughrey family crest.
My hands shook as I picked up the small black box, and when I popped the button, her engagement ring was nestled inside.
She left me.
Again.
I doubled over from the pain. A soul-crushing yell burst from my lungs. The pain unlike anything I’d felt in my life.
Why? What happened? What did I do that would make her run from me again?
And how did she get out of the building?
I pulled up the locator app for her phone. The last ping was five flights down.
Genevieve.
In seconds I was in the elevator, and a minute later my fist was slamming on her door.
“Open up!” I growled. The anger coursing through my veins was at destructive levels. I would set the city on fire to find her, and my sister was in on it.
It took a few minutes, but eventually a bed-headed Genevieve opened the door. I pushed past her, my eyes searching.
“Where is she?”
“Calm down, Atticus.”
I turned on her. “Tell me. Where the fuck is she?” I was shaking, barely hanging on by a thread.
She swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”
“Fucking lies,” I spat at her and made sure her eyes were on mine. “Her phone is here, Gen.”
Her eyes widened, knowing I’d caught her in a lie.
“You know it’s here. Tell me this instant where she is, or I swear I will cut you off without a penny to your name and revoke access to every single de Loughrey property.”
There was no time for negotiation. If Genevieve continued to withhold information from me, in five minutes she would be without her trust fund and other accounts or access to any de Loughrey properties, including the one she was standing in, for years to come.
She swallowed. “Le Magnifique,” she whispered.
“How long?”
She shook her head and shrugged. “A couple of hours after you left? I don’t know.” She leaned forward, her eyes beseeching me. “She was a wreck, Atticus. I couldn’t stand to see her like that.”
“What right did you have to interfere with our relationship?” I seethed.
“I was just trying to help her.”
“Help her? Why the fuck would she need your help? Did you encourage her to leave me?”
Her eyes were to the floor. “You disappeared without a word, leaving a stack of cash like a payment. She thought you were paying her for sex.”
Cash? The money for her sisters? Was that how things suddenly became so fucked up?
“We made love. And then I had to get on a plane. Not sex. Not fucking,” I growled, hearing the broken edge in my tone.
She heard it as well, regret evident in her expression. “The room is under my name. I don’t think she’s left it.”
I spun and headed back to the elevator, leaving her staring after me.
In the elevator, I texted Damien that I was on my way down. By the time I made it to the garage level, Michael was jumping out of the passenger’s seat of a sedan to hold open the door. I glared at him as I slid in. She was his responsibility, and he’d lost her. After the first time, I didn’t think he would fail again, but he did.
“Le Magnifique,” I barked.
My knee bounced with excess energy and anxiety. Until I saw her, held her in my arms, nothing would calm me. Until then, my murderous intent was on the surface.
The car had barely rocked back to a stop when I burst from the backseat, Michael hot on my heels as I ran up the steps and through the doors held by the doorman. There were people all over the lobby, and I wove my way to the check-in desk.
“Mr. de Loughrey, what a pleasure it is to—”
“What room is Genevieve in?” I asked, cutting her off.
She blinked, then looked down at the screen. “She is, umm…”
“1208, sir,” Tomas, the manager, said before stepping around the desk. “Let me show you up.”
I gave a curt nod, following him to the elevator bay.
The seconds ticking by itched my skin with their slow movement. It would have been better if I’d taken the stairs than waited in the elevator.
I reined in my anger as we approached her door. I didn’t trust myself, so I had Tomas knock for me.
We waited but were greeted by nothing but silence. Not a single sound resonated inside.
The anger in my veins morphed into anxiety with each second. Until I saw her, I wouldn’t be able to calm down.
“Open it,” I growled once there was no response, my mind unable to handle the images circulating.
Tomas wasted no time unlocking the door. As soon as it was open, I rushed in but was once again me with nothing but silence. The room was filled with Ophelia’s bags, but completely empty otherwise.
She wasn’t there.
I walked toward her things to find her bags open, her toiletries case on top with a laundry bag, a single change of clothes inside of it. The only other signs of life were her laptop and its bag strewn all over the bed, the power cord stretched across from the wall.
Something wasn’t right, and the alarms in my mind began going off. Genevieve said she dropped her off the day I left. There was one dirty outfit.
A cold dread slid through my veins as the truth stared me in the face.
Ophelia hadn’t been in that room in days.
There was no way she would have left everything, which only left one alternative.
“Get me the access log for this room. Phone records as well. Send it to my office now.”
“Yes, sir,” Tomas said before heading out.
“Boss?” Michael asked.
“Get the CCTV footage of the hotel. Find her and follow her,” I ordered before turning and heading back out. “I’m going to my office. Call me as soon as you find something.”
“Yes, sir.”
Damien was waiting for me out front, and minutes later we were stopped in front of the de Loughrey Tower. I wasn’t dressed in my normal office attire, nor did I care as I blazed a trail to the elevator, ignoring everyone in my path.
Holly greeted me as the doors opened, her brow furrowed.
Ah—someone from the security team called her.
She took my hand and dragged me to my office. I let her. An unknown cold seeped into me, and it felt like I was shutting down. Until I found her, it felt as if the ice would work its way through my body until I was frozen solid.
“Anything?” I asked.
She shook her head.
I threw my head back, my fists clenched. Never again would I let her out of my sight. “Where is she, Holly?”
The unknown was suffocating. It wasn’t only that she left, it was that she completely disappeared.
“Atticus,” Genevieve called as she rushed in. Her eyes were watery. “She just wanted to take a break. She was in the hotel. I left her in the hotel!”
“What’s going on?” Hamilton asked from the doorway, Rhys behind him.
“Ophelia is missing,” I said in a monotone voice.
“What?” Rhys cried out.
“I don’t know what happened, but there is no sign of her.”
“Kidnapped?” Rhys asked. “We have a lot of enemies.”
I turned to Genevieve. “How did you find out?”
“Jason got a notice from Michael.”
“Damn it. We need some answers before this explodes all over the news.” The pent-up emotions exploded out and I slammed my fist onto my desk. “Fuck!”
I needed to get a grip, but I didn’t know how to process the hurricane growing inside me.
By the
expressions of my family members standing in my office, I needed to lock down my emotions before they left utter destruction in their wake.
“What the hell is going on?” Penelope asked as she stormed in. It seemed no one was showing my office any respect.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Gen called,” Penelope answered.
I looked around the room. “Why are all of you here?”
Penelope blinked at me. “Because we love you, Atticus, and Ophelia is special to you, which makes her special to us.”
When did my siblings start caring about me? Especially caring enough they would drop everything to come to my side?
“Atticus, we have a problem.” My office door swung open, startling all of us as Hugo barged in.
So little did I see the man that it took me a moment to recognize him: early fifties with greying brown hair, deep-set, brown eyes, nearly my height with a portly belly. Communication was always through the phone or email, therefore his appearance put me immediately on high alert, especially with Ophelia’s missing presence.
“What happened?” I asked, the alarms going off in my mind again.
He stopped in front of my desk, huffing from exertion. “It’s Milner.” He slammed a piece of paper down in front of me.
I scanned over the document, my eyes going wide.
The document contained fragments of information that pointed to one thing—Lou, Ophelia’s stepfather, was on the run.
“When?”
“He skipped bail. They served a warrant, but the house was cleaned out. The landlady said they were behind on rent and ran out sometime earlier this week.”
I sat down in my chair and ran my fingers against my lips. Lou Milner had somehow made bail. It was a mystery, because the man had no assets, leading whomever lent the money to be out a million dollars when he failed to show up to court two days ago.
My stomach turned, and my chest clenched as every siren blared inside me. “Any leads on his whereabouts?”
“Every single one has come out to nothing. Amy Milner emptied out their accounts three days ago, and she’s been withdrawing cash from her credit cards over the last few weeks. They’re all maxed out. Cell phones aren’t sending out signals. I’ve been using facial recognition, but we’ve had zero hits in the last two days.”
“Where are the daughters?” I asked. “Are they still in New Haven?”
He nodded. “They are confirmed to still be with Amy Milner’s sister in Connecticut. All of my information leads me to believe they have no idea what is going on, and do not know what kind of people their parents are.”
“They know, just not the extent,” I said, recalling Ophelia’s frantic call to have them removed. For now, they seemed safest where they were, and we would keep it that way for now. Once Ophelia was located and Lou and Amy were dealt with, I would talk to Ophelia about what to do with her sisters for the future.
My thoughts moved back to Ophelia, and the sirens grew louder. “Find Milner. Now.”
“What’s wrong?” Rhys asked.
I clenched my fingers into a fist. “I don’t know, but I have a feeling.”
“Your feelings are often right,” Penelope said.
“What is it?” Hamilton asked.
“Ophelia is missing. Her abusive fuck of a stepfather who tried to blackmail her is suddenly released on bail.”
Everyone went still and a hiss of “fuck” was heard.
Hugo’s head hung, and I was immediately out of my chair.
A crushing vise circled around my chest. Her stepfather was up to something, and I feared he would take the events of my doing out on her.
My phone went off, breaking the silence and gaining everyone’s attention. Ice seeped deep into my bones as Michael’s number flashed across the screen.
“Tell me,” I said as I answered, wasting no time.
“Sir, we have a problem.”
Darkness and pain.
Those were the only two things I could sense. A throbbing in my head, the bite of something sharp against one side of my body, and the tingling sensation of one of my arms having gone to sleep.
Slowly, my eyes began to open, my head spinning as I tried to see anything, but there was nothing. The more aware I became, the more I began to notice my surroundings. The more I noticed the stiff and sore muscles. How long had I been out?
I tried to remember, to recall how I ended up in pain in a strange place, but my mind was still muddled. A groan left me and I tried to sit up, but when I moved to press against the ground, I found that my wrists were secured together in zip ties. The plastic scraped across my skin, and I hissed out.
Thankfully my legs weren’t trapped, but that didn’t stop the cold dread that began to crawl through me. A million questions filled me—how did I get here? What happened? And how long had I been out?
I retraced my steps as the fog cleared.
I’d been working on my computer when the phone rang.
Andrea.
She’d been frantic. When I moved to the hotel, I’d called Brooke and gave her the number there because I’d left my cell with Gen.
Andrea’s whispered pleas filled my mind. “Mom picked us up. She said she left Dad, that she was going to do better. She promised!”
“What happened? What’s going on?” I could hear someone in the background, and a shriek that was close but also far away.
“He’s hurting Brooke!”
There was a tussle, and another shriek, this time from Andrea as she cried out, “No!”
The adrenaline pumped hard in my veins, gearing me up, frantic to know where they were so I could take them away.
“Stop!” I cried out, my chest clenching. How could they?
Harsh breaths came through the line, sending a chill down my spine.
“You come take their place, and I’ll stop.”
“You fucking asshole.”
“Ah-ah. Piss me off, and I’ll take it out on little Drea,” he hissed, calling her by the nickname she hated.
“What do you want?”
“I want you here. Now. We’ll talk, come to an understanding, and in exchange, I’ll stop hurting your sisters.”
“They’re your daughters, you sick fuck!”
A scream rang out in the background.
“Yeah, mine. You have an hour to get here before I start whipping ‘em with my belt.”
I flinched at that, remembering the welts left by the strap of leather.
“Give me the address, and don’t touch another fucking hair on their heads.”
“Glad I have your attention. When you leave that fancy hotel you’re staying at, make sure you aren’t followed.”
Before I left, I’d tried to get ahold of Atticus, but the call had gone to voicemail. I didn’t leave a message, and I regretted it the moment I stepped out of the hotel doors. He would notice the call, right?
Despite my unease about our relationship status, I’d long since realized that the only one in my life I could count on was him. No matter what, Atticus would help me. He would find me.
I grabbed a taxi to some run-down house in Jersey City. It took nearly the full hour. Mom answered the door, and I was barely through when I felt the prick of something at my neck.
Nothing like realizing what a total and complete monster your mother is, or any parent for that matter.
Mom had never been the loving, cooking and baking type. She was the cigarettes-and-booze type, just like Lou. Her style of raising was neglect. I cooked more for my sisters than she ever did, and I made sure to teach them to fend for themselves when I left.
I didn’t worry about them, because I was the punching bag while they were the princesses. They were Lou’s kids after all, while I was the thing he was forced to feed.
Eventually, it seemed they became more like Cinderella—slaves given no affection. No longer princesses.
With no windows, there was no light, and I had no way to tell how long I’d been stuck wherev
er I was. The basement? Or did they take me somewhere else?
Instead of cowering against the wall, I knew I had to get a better understanding of the space I was in. I stood and held my bound hands in front of me, shuffling slowly forward. My stomach clenched and my breathing became ragged, but inch by inch I continued. I drew in a shuddering breath when I found the comforting rigidity of a wall.
I continued on my slow path, following the wall, feeling for anything. Neither my feet nor my hands came across anything. After hitting a corner I made my way down the next wall, but it wasn’t until the next wall that the surface changed. There was a bump with an edge, then a seam, followed by a wide expanse until the same bump was found.
Drawing my hands down, I ran them across what I now knew to be a door in search of a handle. Finally, protruding from the wood I gripped the rounded handle and turned it, but nothing happened. Despite the handle moving, neither pushing nor pulling made any movement.
“Fuck,” I hissed.
Following the edge, I moved my hand up until I reached another bump, this one smaller and round. There was a slit for a key, and I leaned forward, my head slamming against the door.
There was no way out. No way for me to escape whatever hell I’d been dumped into.
I just wanted to get away. Take time to settle my mind and my heart without, as Gen said, de Loughrey influence. Now, all I wanted was to be locked up in that tower, because the fear was creeping in. Like long vines twisting and twirling, it soaked into my body.
“Atticus,” I whimpered, tears filling my eyes. “Help me.”
I slid down the wall, working on my breathing before I began hyperventilating. The silence was so great that the loudest thing was the whooshing of my blood. I didn’t know how long I sat there completely defeated, but at some point the stress had me drifting off.
The sound of a latch releasing followed by footsteps echoing in the dark empty room had me on high alert. Blinding light filled the room, and I hissed as I covered my eyes.
“You stupid bitch,” a gruff voice said. The brightness stung, and as I looked up, a familiar figure stood.
Lou.
He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. A grimy button-down shirt sat on his rounded shoulders, his beer belly protruding through the open placket exposing his trademark, dingy wife-beater.