“I have to go out,” I said, as carefully as I could.
Elsie didn’t look at me, keeping her eyes averted.
“Do you think you’ll be all right?” I asked her.
She didn’t answer the question, but stood up and walked to the kitchen instead.
“Look, I get it, you’re feeling physically and emotionally vulnerable right now. What we did…we shouldn’t have done that. You need to get some rest.”
“You’re saying we shouldn’t have had sex because you’d rather be doing something else? Someone else?” she snapped.
What the fuck was she talking about?
“Get some sleep, Elsie. I have to take care of a few things and I’ll see you later.”
“And in the meantime, I should stay here? Imprisoned and alone?”
She banged the drawers open and shut in the kitchen. I didn’t know what she was looking for and I doubt she knew what she wanted either.
“I told you I’m going to try and figure this out, you just have to wait a little longer. Until you’re safe from Aldo.”
Finally, she looked up at me. Her eyes were wide but dull from all the crying she’d done. I wanted to hold her, I wanted to stroke her hair and tell her she’d be alright. That I’d keep her safe. I wanted to give myself to her and claim her as my woman.
It sounded crazy. Even to my ears. I’d never felt this way about a girl before, not even for Christie.
But before I committed to anything with Elsie, I needed to sort this shit out with my past. I needed to gain some perspective from Christie and what she had done—before I could move on.
“Just go, Tristian. Go take care of whatever you think needs taking care of,” Elsie snapped.
She was bitter about something. Maybe she was just sad.
I wished I had the time to sit with her and explain, but I didn’t.
I had to see Christie first.
“Stay inside,” I growled in a commanding voice, and then I left.
I should’ve known Elsie wasn’t the type of girl to obey commands.
Seventeen
Elsie
I kept staring at the clock on the wall, waiting for at least twenty minutes to elapse before leaving the apartment again.
I wanted to make sure Tristian didn’t return soon. I didn’t want him finding me on the streets again.
I was still horrified from my experience of wandering the streets earlier. I wasn’t expecting a complete nervous breakdown. I thought I’d make a quick escape without anyone finding out. But I was so sure I was being followed. I knew I was being watched, and Tristian didn’t believe me.
I recognized the look he gave me when he eventually found me. When I was close to collapsing in the middle of the street. He thought I lost my mind. Maybe he already thought I was nuts.
Maybe I was.
Maybe those were the side effects of watching your parents being murdered.
Either way, now I knew what Tristian really thought of me. He thought I was crazy. That I was seeing things. My imagination was running wild. He didn’t think I was being followed, and the more I insisted I was—the more he looked at me with pity.
And then he fucked me.
He shouldn’t have.
I shouldn’t have slept with him.
Instead, I welcomed him with open arms and legs. I couldn’t resist him. I needed his touch, his mouth all over me. Even now, twenty minutes after he left the apartment—my pussy throbbed at the thought of his cock inside me.
Being around Tristian Doherty was seriously dangerous. By now, the one thing I knew for sure was I’d never resist him. I’d already given myself to him in more ways than one. I’d never be strong enough to get over him.
Unless I removed myself from the picture.
He always fucked me, and then he left. It was like he couldn’t stand to be around me once he’d emptied his load in me.
And now I made the decision that I didn’t want to see him again.
It was going to be scary. It was going to be dangerous. I’d risk my safety and my life by running away again, but it had to be done.
I couldn’t be around Tristian anymore. Not while falling in love with him and losing my mind. I didn’t want to be used as his sex toy anymore. To be used and discarded as he pleased. It made me sick to my stomach. I was better than that.
And now I had a plan.
I’d finally come up with an idea for where I’d go once I managed to sneak out of the apartment.
I’d be taking a big chance, but I had to do something. Anything to put some distance between the Dohertys and me.
The only other person I knew who lived in New York was my friend from high school, Libby. We had never been very close. I didn’t exactly have close friends. Especially not after what Sonya had done to me. It was very difficult for me to trust someone who declared themselves to be my ‘friend’.
But Libby had always tried to keep in touch, even after her whole family moved to New York and I hadn’t seen her in years. She used to send me postcards and sometimes I’d write her back.
I remembered the address on those postcards from recent months. She had a new job in the city and now lived alone in what she had described to be a ‘tiny loft’. Which, she said, was the only thing she could afford in New York.
This time when I left Tristian’s apartment, I was prepared. I headed straight for the subway and before long, I was headed in Libby’s direction. I just hoped I had the right address and she’d be home.
Operating without a personal cell phone was difficult, but it had to be done. I had no other option.
While I rode the crowded subway, with people squeezing into me on all sides—I thought about how far I’d get from Tristian. Inching farther and farther away from him. Getting lost in the crowds of New York,
