It’d been three days and Morgan hadn’t found a trace of her. He had been everywhere. He went to the diner and all Joanna had to say as she glared at him was, “She asked for time off and the way she sounded, I knew she needed it.”
Morgan knew she’d thought he hurt her. Of course she did. All he’d ever done was hurt her. Joanna knew a bit of their history and had been there when he had tried to get Ellie back before. He had shaken his head and told her, “Someone did hurt her and this time it wasn’t me. I-I…” He’d faltered. “I want to take care of her. Make it up to her for not…being here when she needed me.”
Joanna’s scowl dropped away as she looked as worried as he felt. “I know you won’t tell me anything, but…” She looked around. “I'll call you if I hear from her.” She gazed into his eyes. “Ellie is a good girl. She always was. I always kinda felt like her mom, as the poor kid didn’t really have one. I saw that picture on the net.” Her eyes took on fury again. “I know that hurt her.” She stared at him. “But it hurt you too.”
He nodded. Thinking about how he could give a flying fuck about the picture. Right now, all he cared about was finding Ellie.
“But that other woman.” She now held the scowl on her face again.
He stepped close. “That is my fault, but it will blow over. I know that isn’t my child. In my world, these nasty things have a habit of occurring.”
Joanna looked him up and down.
Morgan had never felt this way before. Scrutiny he had handled before, but this felt more invasive. He couldn’t argue with the woman. All he’d wanted was to improve Ellie’s life, make her happy and look at what had happened. He had turned and left after getting Joanna to promise to call him ASAP if she heard from Ellie.
Next, he went to her old apartment. The building was in total disrepair, he had talked to the super, and the neighbors and they all claimed not to have seen her. He also decided to buy the place right there on the spot. He put in a call to his Real Estate agent while standing right there in the hall in front of the dilapidated door of her old apartment. He would build a new apartment complex here. He wondered later after he searched three more locations and had went to the campus, why the hell he would do such a thing. It must be his desperation to improve something of Ellie’s life.
The one thing he couldn’t seem to do, despite all his money was—to find Ellie.
By this morning, his frustration, lack of sleep, internal fury, and worry was taking its toll. He had been staying at the Hunt. He somehow, could not return to the Mockingbird house. No. It had to be with Ellie when he did that.
He then got a call from Chance. “Yes?”
“I have good news for a change?” Chance said quietly.
“You found her?” Morgan stood up as he nearly shouted over the phone.
“No. It isn’t that good.”
“Then I don’t fucking care.” Morgan sighed.
“An import mogul has pressed Daphne for a paternity test, publicly saying he was with her around the time she conceived. He is claiming the child.”
Morgan lowered his head. “Who cares? I hope he is knighted for putting up with that bitch.”
“Did you check her credit cards?” Chance asked.
Morgan raised his head. “Of course I did. Nothing. There’s no trace of her.”
“Then she’s using cash. Did you check—?”
“I have fucking been everywhere!” Morgan cut him off.
“Maybe not everywhere,” Chance replied.
Morgan stilled. “What do you know?”
“This time…nothing. But maybe you aren’t thinking straight right now. In fact, I know you aren’t.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Morgan growled into the phone.
“Morgan, you're a billionaire two times over. You live in a different world than she does.”
Morgan let out an aggravated breath “If you’re saying I should just give her up…you can go fuck yourself!” He gripped his cell so tight he thought he might crush it.
“I wouldn’t suggest any fucking such thing!” Chance yelled over the line his tone defensive and outraged. “I don’t know how you lucked out to even land her in the first dammed place, a dog like you. Jaded and bored as you were. Let alone, do I even want to see your sorry ass after you you’ve lost her.”
Morgan halted and pulled the phone away a bit. As if Chance was speaking in some foreign dialect, he didn't understand. This rare show of emotion by his best friend felt like a punch to his gut.
Chance’s tone changed again to unemotional as he went on, “Look in parts of Philly that your immaculate ass would never set foot in, you dumbfuck. Then let me know when you get her back. If you get so lucky.”
A click sounded in Morgan’s ear as Chance hung up on him.
Morgan shook all over. He hardly cared what Chance had said at all. He felt so much rage, so frustrated. He felt like he was going to explode. He himself, didn't want to even consider that he had lost her permanently. Tossing the phone, he looked around at the suite. Opulent, appointed, all the amenities. Funny, how he had always appreciated those assets, since he’d been the one to design and direct the building of this hotel of grandeur.
He suddenly realized this was where he got his first good look at Ellie.
She’d come here to return his phone after he’d left it somewhere along the ground in front of the burned out diner. That stupid move had almost cost him a huge deal with the Japanese conglomerate later that morning. The very next day, he had opened the very door he stared at now to see Miss White, previous victim of smoke inhalation standing there, and his whole body had reacted.
He’d seen women in evening gowns, silk, lace, Dior, Gucci, Channel; outfits that cost more than most people’s monthly paychecks. Debutantes in hundred thousand dollar ball gowns, their necks dripping with jewels. And never once, did he suck in a breath and feel electrified like he did that day staring at little Miss Ellie White in the hallway outside his door, in her cute little red dress.
She’d smelled like vanilla and sweet cream. He remembered thinking it was that exact scent when he’d caught his first whiff. She’d curled her hair and wore it down and it showed off‒as he’d found out later what she personally considered her best attribute‒her long, chocolate colored locks. The curled ringlets hung down nearly to her waist and framed her creamy, white face, neck and shoulders. He himself loved her hair, just so he could wrap it in his fingers and pull her closer. The silky feel of it always turned him on. But she was wrong about it being her best attribute. He’d learned the hard and easy way since then that she had so much more to her than he’d realized that particular day.
She wore the cutest little red and white polka dot dress and open-toed red pumps.
He had to admit, he had been floored and couldn’t fucking figure out why. It was the first inkling that this girl would be special, different from any other female he would bed. He’d ignored that warning. Hell, he’d ignored them all, every step of the way.
“Well, I should be going,” she’d said after he’d showed her the suite. “I just wanted to return your phone—and thank you, for yesterday. I never really got a chance to…what, with all the chaos and all. So, thank you.” She’d looked him right in the eye and smiled.
Man, he remembered thinking how she seemed so sweet and innocent—it had made him want her all the more. “You can thank me by joining me for breakfast,” he’d offered as nefarious and more than naughty plans for what he wanted to really do with her ticked in his analytical mind. “They have a wonderful restaurant on the twentieth floor that overlooks the city. I’ll give them a call and have them reserve us a table out on the balcony.”
In response to his bold offer, Ellie had bitten at her lower lip and tucked a strand of her silky, dark brown hair behind her ear.
The action just seemed so unaffected, so sweet and Morgan resisted the temptation to pounce on her right there. At the time, all he’d thought about was getting her sweet little body into bed. Pacing himself until he could—Morgan froze as he realized what his motives had truly been at the time—until he was sated by her little delectable body, so he could then throw her away like garbage to the curb.
The memory of her face, her sweet blue eyes hit him hard now, the image of her that day so clear in his mind. He remembered days later, when he’d presented her with that diamond dress. Of how instead of being happy, she had felt less than enough as she spoke in disgust about her little red, polka dot dress. How foolish she must have looked to him. Foolish? Even now, he couldn’t fathom her reasoning, when all he could think was how delectable, precious and wonderful she had looked that day.
With a strange shift in his focus, the room seemed to dim around him. The previous shine and luster of the suite and all its furnishings simply transformed to a dull and crass sight before his gleaming eyes. The vast disparity of their two worlds was never more apparent to him. His world in its ridiculous façade of being what was so important to a man like him. None of his riches, none of his wealth, villas, houses, billion dollar deals, or fucking 5 star hotels meant a god dammed thing to him now. All of his life filled with all those endeavors that he’d considered paramount before. All geared toward power, the drive he’d always had leading to his successes, his influence. And none of it had protected her, nor had it shielded her from the worst kind of monster. It was all crap to him now.
Dust, trash, useless.
“You ruined it!” He could still hear her shout in that warehouse three days ago, the pain, the agony, the fear and rage in her sweet trembling voice. She had faced it all alone. Carried it inside for days, all while he’d been concerned with scandal, the board at Hunt, and his own fucking image.
His breathing became shallow as he thought he would die from the pain of realizing she had been the strong one, trying to protect him. The realization unhinged him. He suddenly felt like he might simply just suffocate from the depth of the empty hole this despicable epiphany had left in him.
Roaring like some beast, he could feel adrenaline like never before in his life as it pumped through his veins. The muscles in his arms, legs and chest corded and strained as if his body could not contain the absolute revulsion and rage filling him as flashes of what that freak had done to Ellie accosted his mind. HIS Ellie. Only she wasn’t anymore. Was she? She’d left him for good this time and he had to know deep down inside that he might not ever get her back into his arms, into his life, this time around.
Morgan was blinded by fury as he grabbed a side table and tossed it up against the wall. He seized a tiffany lamp from another table and threw that. Pieces rained down on the floor. It should have made him feel better. It didn’t. He went crazy and snatched up anything within reach. He punched holes in the walls, broke anything made of glass or china. Panting hard, he ripped all the bedding off the oversize king bed and foolishly tried to tear the material up as if it would make it all go away. Make all of it leave his tortured mind.
Panting hard, he stopped and stared at himself in the full form wall mirror. He saw a raging monster. He didn't even recognize his own eyes as they were almost glowing with pure unadulterated rage. His face mottled red, his fists clenched, his knuckles bloody.
This is what I am without her. Just an animal, crazed, lost, mindless, empty inside. Cold, so cold.
He even shivered from the feeling. He tossed his fist out and broke the mirror as if trying to shatter the truth from his brain. It fell from the plaque holders that held it, crashing to the floor to join the rest of the destruction.
He gazed around, breathing hard as he even felt the blood dripping from his fingers onto the 10,000 dollar carpet. Fuck! If he didn't get a grip, he might murder the first person he saw. He never felt such wrath, such murderous fury. Chance should have let him take care of Hillborn, as taking that away, did Morgan no favors.
In the silence, he heard a ringtone. Unfocused and his gaze bleary, he slowly gazed around and for the first time in maybe thirty minutes, he spoke coherently, “Where the fuck is my phone?” He couldn’t seem to concentrate, to even know what the hell he felt or thought. He’d certainly lost his god dammed mind for sure.
A loud pounding sounded on the suite door.
Morgan halted as he raised his head. He couldn’t answer it. He couldn’t let anyone see this, see him and he didn't trust himself to not commit murder on some poor unsuspecting bellboy.
“Let me in you fuckhead!”
Chance.
Well, maybe the right person did show up for this. He almost smirked with a grim satisfaction as this might be the only man in the world who could give him the fight he needed right now. He strode over and opened the door.
Chance lowered his fist and gasped. He stared at Morgan, as his pupils even seemed to dilate. He even took a slow staggered step back.
Morgan hadn’t seen this expression on this man’s face in many years. Just one time, it had been a time they both never mentioned ever again and Morgan preferred to also forget that event entirely.
Chance’s eyes were round and his face had paled two shades. His expression was either fear or total shock. Like his facial muscles couldn’t decide. It was as if he was staring at an alien with two heads or some outlandish shit.
Morgan took in his animated expression. Gone, was the cool, amused, and detached veneer Morgan knew was a façade in fact, one that Chance used for the rest of the world. He knew the darkness inside of this man as it had often times matched his own. This though, was a man who was seeing something he could not fathom. Chance had always been a know it all, take it all persona. Never caught off guard.
Morgan didn't know how or why but he started to laugh.
Chance recovered his composure and huffed as he glowered at him.
Morgan could not stop laughing if his life depended on it. He let out a roar of loud, boisterous laughter. It consumed him utterly. Tears poured from his eyes as he bent over and held his stomach.
Chance sighed in disgust and stepped into the suite, carefully closing the door behind him.
Morgan saw him through tears and the glower he wore was like the one his own father often wore when he was infuriated. Yes, daddy. I have been a bad boy! Morgan laughed so hard that he could not get any oxygen into his lungs.
Chance shook his head then looked back at the cracks and fissures in the door. His gaze swung around at the room as his eyes widened more and more. “What in all Holy Fuck?”
At this, Morgan’s laughter escalated as he stumbled over to the stripped bed and bounced his body on the bare, white mattress.
Chance followed him and kept gazing around. He swung his stunned green eyes down at Morgan.
Morgan finally stilled some as he panted from the lack of air the insane laughter had caused.
“Maybe I should’ve let you kill him,” Chance stated quietly.
Morgan peered up at him as suddenly all the fight, all the rage, all the insanity left him. “Yes, you should have.” His low tone told of his fierce wish that he could have spent this fury on utterly destroying that freak.
Chance pushed his fingers through his dark hair. “If I had, and what Ellie went through, what she sacrificed would have been for nothing, you stupid bastard!” he yelled the last words.
“What?” Morgan sat up holding his sides as blood had smeared from his hands across the white mattress.
“You fucking heard me! She kept it to herself because she knew you would kill the man and land in prison! She protected YOU!” Chance looked livid. “But I can't see why she would think to do it.” He again, gazed around with disgust at the mess Morgan had made.
Morgan slowly stood up and looked around too, following Chance’s gaze.
The suite was a site of mass destruction. Everything in the room smashed, crushed, bent, cracked. Debris of what used to be fixtures, deco art and expensive bedding littered the floor. There were multiple smashed holes in every wall. He had even somehow managed to bust a splintering crack in the double plated glass window that spanned the entire wall of the suite. The cracking fissure long and cruel looking.
Chance crossed his arms over his well suited chest. “So, do you feel better now?”
Morgan swung his dazed gaze back up to him. No. He didn’t. He felt worse if that were possible. Empty, numb…Lost for the first time ever in his illustrious life. “No.”
“Well, not that you deserve it…” Chance dropped his arms and sighed. “…Williamson found her.”
Morgan sucked in a breath and leapt across the space, grabbing him up by the lapels.
Chance gave him a cold, unblinking emerald stare as his feet literally left the floor. “You have already racked up at least 50k in damages. And this suit cost just as much. GET YOUR BLOODY HANDS OFF ME!”
Morgan swallowed heavily and let go. “Where?”
Chance straightened his jacket and pressed his hands over it. He scowled as he spotted blood stains ruining the fine fabric. He didn't answer.
“WHERE?” Morgan roared.
Chance sniffed as if entirely unaffected by his shout and reached into the inner pocket of his now stained Bironi sportcoat. He paused and stared at Morgan. “First, you shower, and change clothes.” He looked him over as his lip curled. “You don’t look human. You will scare her away… permanently.”
Morgan’s body slumped as if he had been a balloon deflated of all its air. The man had no sympathy. Couldn’t he see—
“Then I'll give you the address.”
Morgan clenched his fists and stepped closer his steel like gaze meeting an icy emerald glare.
“I mean it, Morgan. I'll fight you this time. You’re not…” He looked around. “…thinking straight, obviously. You have possibly lost your dammed mind here.” He met his stare again. “Take it from me. You WILL scare her.”
Morgan let out a long sigh and turned to head to the bathroom.
“And for god’s sake, use some Axe or something, cause you fucking stink!” Chance said to his retreating back.
Morgan stopped and turned to scowl at him.
Chance had a flicker of a maybe fear cross his face. “Seriously, dude.”
Morgan growled as he turned and went in to shower.