Authors: Stella Rhys
Havoc (2 page)
Something was off about table eight.
I tried not to think about it as I weaved through my section at Alma’s, the Upper East Side diner I’d been at since leaving my job at the elementary school. It was a mindless gig and busy enough to keep me distracted. All I really had to do was smile, refill coffee and listen to anecdotes about sassy grandkids. Our clientele was largely older and easy to get along with if you didn’t keep them hungry. Conversation often got repetitive but this week, I needed those stories I’d heard a thousand times about the post office or Emma’s tap recital. They were the best ways to remind myself that this –
this
was my world.
Not Abram. Not that breathtaking building he lived in.
All that needed to be quickly forgotten.
After leaving his penthouse three days ago, I’d still been reeling. I was still thinking about him. It was impossible not to. He’d given me the clothes off his muscled back and called for a black Range Rover to drive me to work. The handler who took me into the elevator gave me five hundred dollars to replace my dress. I’d then gone down fifty floors in dazed shock before even realizing where I was.
At the famed Monarch Hotel in Chelsea.
I knew of the place. Everyone did. It had been recently crowned the tallest hotel in all of Manhattan. Before going up, its blueprints had been profiled in magazines, the Times, the Daily News. I had coworkers who prayed about millionaire friends who could possibly get them into opening night. On the L, I watched beautiful girls change out of stilettos and gripe about being turned away from its doors. On the news, it was always a story in either business or entertainment. Barely two years old and the Monarch was already legendary – an unattainable fantasyland for only the wealthy and stunning elite.
And there I was on a random Sunday, leaving its penthouse floor.
In the days that followed, I banned myself from Google. I hadn’t had a single productive thought since leaving Abram’s place and all I’d done was look at him. Clearly, I didn’t need to read up on his personal life or career or whatever information the Internet had to offer. So I picked up extra shifts at Alma’s and to my relief, the back-to-back doubles had me quickly tired and distracted enough to think of non-Abram-related things.
Not that I could completely erase him. I had a feeling that no one ever laid eyes on him and then ever forgot. At random parts of the day, his torso flashed through my mind and I had to bite my lip and whisper “
Jesus
.” But that was inevitable and fine as long as I could still focus on my real world – which was my paint-chipped apartment and un-glamorous job at Alma’s, Manhattan’s favorite diner for geriatrics.
Though for once, a guest didn’t fit that description.
Table eight was one guy in his thirties with tattoos and a neck as thick as my thigh. He looked like a wrestler and barely spoke when I came around, but he did keep his dark eyes fixed on my every move through the dining room.
“He must have a thing against hot chicks,” Laurel decided after strutting past him for the fifth time without getting a look. “Or maybe I look like one of his exes,” she mused, tugging her uniform down to show more cleavage. Laurel was a former high school classmate whose mom had gone to Elle’s funeral. After hearing that I’d quit teaching, she referred me to Alma’s and for the first week, had been nothing but sweet. But then our GM, Reece, began flirting with me and cracking daily sex jokes. I laughed at none but Laurel dubbed me an “attention whore” and focused on making my life at work a thing of misery. If I weren’t so in need of cash, I’d have already quit.
“Or,” she touched a finger to her glossy lip. “He’s staring because it’s been ten minutes since you gave him coffee and still no cream or sugar. It’s not that hard, baby girl.”
Sure.
I didn’t care to explain to Laurel that Tat Guy had asked for his coffee black. I remembered that because I was thankful I wouldn’t have to return to his table. The vibe I got from him was increasingly strange. And uncomfortable. He barely touched his coffee or burger and stared at me even while muttering on the phone. Maybe I’d seen too many movies but I couldn’t help getting nervous.
It felt as if he’d come here to watch me.
Flipping her hair, Laurel heaved a sigh. “Well, my section’s dead so I’m gonna bring Tattoo Babe some cream and make him fall in love with me,” she announced, waltzing off before I could say “
he’s yours
.” I’d never been so relieved to have Laurel steal one of my tables.
But two hours later, Tattoos was still there and he’d yet to stop watching me. Thankfully, Laurel was still trying to flirt with him by the time my shift ended, so without a word, I clocked out and left. Five minutes later, I was out the employee door, changed in record time and already pedaling my bike up First Avenue. In my rush, I’d left my helmet in my locker, but after four blocks of mental cursing I told myself it was a sign. I needed the peace of the breeze blowing through my hair. It felt nice and soothed my nerves, which was a feeling I needed these days.
But then I noticed the Yukon.
It was black with tinted windows. It had begun tailing me at Eighty-Ninth Street and when I made a sharp turn onto Ninety-First, it did the same.
Not yet,
I told myself not to panic. There was a chance I was just rattled from work and being paranoid. So I made another sharp turn.
He followed again.
Another turn. The same result.
My heart slammed. It was a sudden hammer pounding my ribs as I realized that this was real. I wasn’t paranoid. I was being followed and while I couldn’t see through the windshield, I was certain the man behind the wheel was my table eight. He hadn’t been watching me for no reason.
Of course not.
Why would I have thought it so easy? I had seen two men end the life of another – two men who were clearly rich and powerful, with everything to lose if I ever blabbed about what they’d done that night. Of course it wasn’t over.
Fuck.
Blinking hard, I gasped for breath. I tried to stop it but that night came back in flashes before my eyes. Red blood. White skull. The scene from the alley was on loop in my head as I pedaled twice as fast as the cars around me, a blur of impossible speed as my hands sweated and my thighs burned. I was losing grip, scared out of my mind. Hair whipped in my face. The strands caught on my tongue. Panicked, I glanced down at my handlebars for less than a second.
White knuckles. That was the last thing I saw before my head slammed into pavement.
“Ah, ah. No sudden movements.”
A voice cooed in my ear. I blinked my eyes open. My vision focused but I recognized the smell before anything. I was in a hospital. I stared at the blonde nurse for all of a second before jolting up.
“
No
– ”
“Sit back,” she said firmly. “You have five stitches in your forehead and your body’s about to be pretty stiff for the next few days. I would suggest you take it easy.”
I stared at her.
Five
stitches? I reached up to touch them and felt one before she snatched my hand back.
“Stop.”
“I just – ”
“Your body needs to rest.”
“You don’t understand – ” Panic swallowed my manners as I resisted her touch.
“It doesn’t matter, you need to
calm down
.”
“I just – ” I let her push me back down. “I don’t have insurance,” I exhaled, defeated.
I had no money. Zero dollars. I’d already sent what Abram gave me to my landlord but even if I hadn’t, that wouldn’t have covered this. It was official: I had the worst luck in the world. Silent, dead inside, I started crunching the numbers of my latest mess.
Well, I’ll definitely be missing my next couple shifts
. I’d crashed my bike. An ambulance had probably come for me, which meant another six hundred dollars tacked onto my bill.
God.
In college, I’d brought a friend to the ER for choking on a vitamin. Her bill was over a thousand dollars so what the hell would
this
be? I looked up at the nurse, trying not to cry and make my panic her burden. “I’m sorry, but would you happen to know an estimate of how much this is going to – ”
“I don’t know, sweetheart.” She gazed down at me, pressing her lips into a line. “But I’ll go get your husband so you can discuss this with him.”
“I don’t have a – ”
She was gone before I could finish my sentence.
Alone in the room, I looked down at my arms. An IV needle in each and one in the back of my hand. Once upon a time, I’d have ripped them all out and just left. Jumped out a window if I had to. But that wasn’t me anymore. I’d changed for Elle and though she was gone, I’d yet to see a return of my “badass side,” as she liked to call it. Four years of teaching fifth graders had turned me into a rule-heeding softie. So I stayed in bed, staring with dull eyes at my bruised arms. I was tracing the line of a cut on my hand when the nurse returned. Through my peripherals, I could see her cheeks, suddenly pinker than roses.
“Found him,” she sang lightly.
When I looked up, my heart stopped. Abram. Wearing a white V-neck and jeans, he stood before me. He ran a hand over his jaw as his eyes trailed from my stitches to my top lip. The heat of his gaze made me suddenly conscious of how swollen it felt.
I found my words only once the nurse left.
“You had him follow me.” My voice was flat and hollow as Abram came to my bedside. I went from glaring at him to frowning down at my lap, asking myself how I could feel both enraged and relieved by his presence.
“It was Nate. I wouldn’t have let it happen had I known.”
I wanted to ask who Nate was but I’d already figured it out. He was the blonde man in the alley, who had been dragging the body like an animal carcass. God. I didn’t know the guy but I already fucking hated him. He was the reason I was in the hospital. He was the reason I was going to miss the work I needed to pay off my bills, including this new one. Breathing hard, my fists balled in anger. But I couldn't even hold them like that, my palms too bloody and scraped.
I was the definition of pathetic and out of nowhere, I felt tears. They streamed down my face as if racing each other, quickly dripping from my chin to my chest.
“Easy.” With the back of his finger, Abram caught the next tear before it fell. Brushing my cheek, he wiped it dry. I forgot briefly to breathe but it all came back with a sudden gasp.
“I can’t.” I trembled as I contained my angry sobs. “I can’t be easy. I’m going to miss work now and I’m already behind on rent. I’ve got nothing but debt. I gave them all my money.”
I gave them all my money but Elle’s dead so now they’ve stopped talking to me and it was all for nothing.
My voice shook so hard Abram tipped my chin up.
“Isla, I’m sorry.” He made me look into his blue eyes. “I’m going to take care of this, I promise.”
Before I could reply, the nurse returned. She handed Abram two packets. “Her discharge papers and your receipt,” she smiled up at him, so dazzled she could hardly blink. Only then did I notice that several other nurses kept drifting past my door, craning their neck to look inside. Abram. It was my first time being in public with him and I was realizing that he probably went nowhere without causing a scene. I was so busy eyeing the reactions that I barely processed what was happening.
“Thank you.” Abram took the papers from the nurse before nodding toward me. “So you just need to take the IVs out and then I can take her home?”
“Correct!”
I blinked as he turned to call his driver, fixing my quizzical stare at the nurse. She flashed me the brightest of smiles.
“See? Bill’s taken care of. You didn’t even have to look at it. Now you just go home and spend the week getting spoiled by that beautiful husband of yours.” She glanced over her shoulder at Abram, turning back to me with a sigh. “I know today was pretty rough, but all things considered, I think you’re a very,
very
lucky girl.”
Standing was fine but walking hurt. Abram seemed to notice because when we got to the hotel, he rounded to my side of the car and lifted me out like a feather, carrying me to the gated side entrance of the Monarch. I had told him that it was fine to just take me home but when he gave a simple, “No,” I shut up. He was the reason I was in this situation but I would be lying to myself if I said that I didn’t want to be here.
I liked his world.
I felt guilty about it but I had to admit that I found it endlessly fascinating. Him. The hotel. The suited men who floated around, doing things before Abram even had to ask. It was the perfect escape I couldn’t have assembled in even my fantasies. I’d certainly paid a price for it – one I’d probably never agree to if given the chance to rewind – but there was no rewinding or erasing what I saw in the alley, so I let go and gave myself permission to…
enjoy
this.
It probably also helped that I was on painkillers and just relieved to be out of the hospital.
“Are you hungry?”
I registered Abram’s question seconds after he’d asked it. I was too busy being mesmerized by the exterior of the Monarch. It was unlike any other building I’d seen – sleek and all black, matte in some places, mirrored in others. As we neared it, I gazed at the reflection of Abram’s strong arms wrapped around me, my groggy head resting against his chest. His rock-hard body was surprisingly easy to melt into. Even more surprising, I was letting myself melt into it.
This is happening
, I reminded myself as I watched him hold me. Still, I couldn’t absorb the moment. The meds were kicking in and I was starting to float away.
I finally gave a slurred answer to his question. “I’m not hungry. How do you live in the Monarch?”
Abram thanked his guy who held the door open for us. “How do I live in the Monarch.” I could hear a smile in his voice as he repeated my question. “I own the Monarch.”
What?
I blinked. “You do not.”
“Okay. I do not,” Abram humored me as we entered something that looked like a lobby. But there were no Monarch logos and instead of smiling hotel staff, there were four men in black suits. They were all stoic but the one Abram greeted cracked a sympathetic half-wince, half-smile when he saw me.
“I’m guessing Mr. Kingdon’s in for a world of pain,” he said.
“He already got it,” Abram smirked, reading my mind when I flashed him a curious look about this in the elevator. “Nate,” he clarified before turning to speak under his breath to his guy.
In the penthouse, still carrying me, I remember Abram asking me to eat. But when I wouldn’t, he took me to the room I’d stayed in last time. I was asleep before he even got me into bed.
~
It was dark by the time I awoke. For a second, I thought it was all a dream. Being followed, crashing my bike, waking up in the ER – it was unbelievable enough without throwing in Abram. As my husband no less. I imagined him identifying himself to the nurse. “
My name is Abram. I’m here to see my wife, Isla Maran
.” The thought put a little smile on my lips, but it fell to a grimace the second I sat up in bed. Every bruise on my body pulsed in pain under my skin.
Struggling, I sat upright, finally catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror above the mantle.
Not the worst
.
My top lip was swollen at the Cupid’s bow. My bloody stitches, apparently cleaned in my sleep, were now five neat X’s marching in a short, straight line. I’d think they were cute if it weren’t for money and Reece. I could already hear him cutting my shifts because of them. “
You know our clientele, Isla. They come here for familiarity. Comfort. The way you look now is going to make them uneasy
.”
The painkillers were clearly wearing off if I was alert enough to start worrying again. Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I shot a quick email to work before turning my reluctant attention to the missed texts. They were half from Holly, half from Evan.
I skimmed them. Both were asking me separately to meet them – Holly so we could “talk” and Evan so he could return my bomber jacket. Though his last few texts took a sharp turn.
considering the reasons you ended things with me isla it feels like you should get why I proposed to holly. You get it more than anyone. Life gets fucking hard and we all end up doing unexpected things to make it easier for ourselves. You gave up your dream job. I got engaged
but that doesn’t mean I won’t always want you. It doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could be marrying you. you were a million worlds out of my league so I’ll probably never stop mentally reliving the time we had together. And I thank you for it but I still need closure so please call me back Isla. Please.
I didn’t realize my hands were shaking until I finished reading.
God, I should’ve known.
And in the back of my head, I probably did, but just hadn’t had the time to think about it. Evan wasn’t marrying Holly for love but for her family’s money. She had a hefty trust fund and he had massive debt that he’d spent ten years banking on paying off in one shot. Online poker, Powerball tickets, Ponzi schemes – he got suckered into it all before finally pushing
me
to study pharmaceuticals since teaching would “never pay six figures.” Over time, he became the world’s grandest display of laziness and the last straw for me came when he found out how much I was paying toward Elle’s medical bills.
He spent that day sulking, daring to be jealous of her
cancer treatment
.
I thought that kicking him out would force him to become an adult but apparently, he’d gone the easy route and proposed to a girl he once refused to so much as dance with while I got our drinks at the bar.
“Sorry. I don’t do chicks with Leno chins
.
Even if they’re your friends.”
You scumbag. I should have never gone to meet you that night
. The thought played in my mind on such a repeat that I must’ve summoned the asshole because suddenly, he was calling. I don’t know why I picked up. He seemed shocked too. I could hear the sound of a busy restaurant or bar in the background, but it took Evan a couple seconds to speak.
“Isla?”
“Yes. Why are you calling?”
“I’m sorry, I know it’s late.”
I took the phone off my ear to look at the time. Past one in the morning. I had no idea. “Yeah. I got your texts but I’ll get my jacket another time. Or you can mail it to me.”
He ignored everything I said. “I’m at Maloney’s right now. With Jared, Mikey, Joey Guinness. You remember the guys.” His speech was slurred. This was officially a drunk dial.
“Why are you telling me this.”
“’Cause they’re giving me shit. Joey’s asking if he can take you out now. I’m gonna give him the phone and you’re gonna tell him no thanks because he looks too much like Kermit the fucking Frog and
you
…” He groaned. “You are the sexiest girl on the fucking planet. You know that? I want you to know that, babe. You’ve got the legs… and the ass… the tits. You’re the full package and I can’t even… get fuckin’
hard
unless I turn off the lights and pretend she’s – ”
“
Evan
.” My stomach lurched. It hurt to clench my jaw but I had to. “Stop this. You cannot fucking
lie
to her like that!” I hissed between my teeth.
“And you’re a good person, too. Holly went after
me
and you’re still defending her.”
I hadn’t known that detail but it made no difference anymore. “I don’t care, Evan. I don’t want to hear this.”
“Just come meet me.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No,” he said firmly. He was still slurring but now there was a cockiness to his speech. “I know you, baby. If you haven’t seen anyone since me, you haven’t fucked anyone since me and I remember how much you need it, Isla. Good, deep fucks every night and every morning. That was my favorite thing about you.”
I froze, livid.
“See, you woulda said something by now if I wasn’t right. And I’m pretty sure you woulda let me fuck you in that bar that night if I didn’t tell you about stupid Holly.
Fuck.
” I heard a growl and what sounded like the heel of his palm hitting his forehead. Once. Twice. “Why’d I do it, babe? Why’d I even tell you about her?”
I hung up. Revolted, heart pounding, I threw the phone across the bed and scrambled to get out. But I was on my feet for barely a second before toppling to my raw hands and knees. Pain searing me, I cried out.
The second I did, the door flung open.