Chapter Two

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Pimlico

 

 

TWO DAYS AGO, walking the streets had been an adventure.

I’d had Bill and Lance shadowing me—giving me courage because they worked for Elder, and Elder was my guardian angel. When someone jostled me, I didn’t get scared. When a man stepped in front of me, I didn’t panic.

Today had been completely different.

I’d spent the day all alone.

Vulnerable, lost, afraid.

Men smiled, and all I saw were monsters.

Women laughed, and all I saw were victims.

Morning had turned to afternoon, and I’d walked listlessly, heart-bruised, and happy-broken, second-guessing my rash decision to leave Elder.

No matter what street I took or direction I chose, I couldn’t stop myself from looking over my shoulder…hoping.

Hoping he’d stalk around a corner and scold me for leaving such a note. Wishing he’d appear around a bend and kiss me stupid for ever thinking I had enough willpower to stay away.

Minutes had turned to hours, and those silly fantasies went unanswered.

He never appeared.

And I never turned back.

I’d left for his sake. I’d run away to heal him. I thought I was selfless enough to do it, but as afternoon morphed to evening and evening darkened to midnight, I wondered what new level of imbecility I’d risen to.

Didn’t I deserve to be safe and cared for?

Didn’t I earn the right to love and be loved in return?

He doesn’t love you.

I rubbed at the ice freezing my skin. Elder had never told me how he felt. For all I knew, I was still just a conquest, and my leaving would be met with relief instead of misery.

You know that’s not true.

But I had no willpower to convince myself because if I did…what would prevent me from running back to him and forcing him to live in agony all because I couldn’t imagine my life without him?

No.

I won’t do it.

My thoughts (no matter how scattered) were the only possessions I had as I continued to wander the streets of Monte Carlo. I had no luggage, no blankets, no money to trade unwelcoming footpaths for sympathetic beds.

This was my penance for telling a man he’d earned my heart only to walk out the door without a goodbye. My empty stomach daren’t growl because it deserved to have no fuel. My arthritic bones daren’t complain because they brought such discomfort on themselves. And I definitely didn’t allow the piercing laments of my heart to earn a single tear from me.

This was my fault, and I would pay the price to prevent Elder from doing so.

For an entire twenty-four hours, I lived in limbo.

As the streets emptied of law-abiding holidaymakers and were replaced with alcohol-fermented partiers, I kept to the shadows and out of sight.

Security guards patrolled outside their nightclubs and the police presence increased—protecting the rich and famous from bad decisions and terrible consequences.

It was the longest night of my life. Not only because I had nowhere to sit down and rest, but because I never stopped moving to avoid the beady eyes of other night-walkers.

This part of town had no homeless, and the glitz and finery wore down a piece of me I didn’t know I harboured: a certain kind of hate for wealth.

I might’ve been brutalised, but my captivity had been in a beautiful mansion dripping with money. Then I’d been rescued and stowed on the Phantom where its very creation was all thanks to Elder’s underhanded dealings.

I loved my bedroom on the Phantom, but until tonight, when I finally earned some grit beneath my sandals and dirt upon my hands, I’d forgotten what it was like not to have everything.

To be surrounded by shop windows full of thousand-dollar dresses and not be able to afford them. To smell the scents of pricey dinners in exclusive restaurants and not be able to eat.

Yet again, something else had been stolen from me: the value of things. Not that I ever took my living on the Phantom and all its luxuries for granted, of course, but for once, it was nice to worry about normal things—things Tasmin used to constantly fret over while Pimlico had forgotten by being kept as a toy.

Things like hours passing and no way to tell the time. Concerns like itineraries and no way to get to where I needed to go. Problems like the mundaneness of life and being responsible for my own person.

My thoughts kept me distracted from my flat feet and sore back as dawn slowly approached and prettily made-up women turned to tipsy makeup-smeared consorts, and men went from handsome devils to morally-corrupted scoundrels.

Ducking out of the way of a domestic, and staying to the shadows to avoid the eyes of security guards, I poked at the open wound by leaving Elder. All night, I’d been a game of roulette as my mind spun the wheel and my choices between staying away and returning became the little white ball.

Sometimes, that ball landed on red. Red…the colour of love, of passion, of blood and rage and lust.

But sometimes, it landed on black. Black…the colour of desperation, of grief, of wrongness and hate and confusion and pain.

Neither gave me an answer I could live with.

Dawn crept to daybreak.

I looked at the horizon and saw how far I’d walked.

My heart hiccupped at the amount of distance I’d placed between Elder and me. My feet turned mutinous, wanting to go backward rather than forward.

All I wanted to do was kneel before him and promise I’d never again ask him to touch, kiss, or bed me. If that was the sacrifice for his friendship and protection, then so be it. I would pay it lifetimes over.

If I did that, I could be with him right now.

I could be sailing out to sea.

Safe.

Warm.

In love.

Who cared if he never touched or kissed me again?

He was safe.

And safe was worth so much more to me than romance.

Isn’t it?

I hated that my answer was no longer clear cut.

He’d spoiled me. He’d shown me that safety only came from trust, and trust had the unnerving ability to create affection, which morphed into lust and somehow blossomed into love.

You didn’t leave for you.

That reminder—that righteous thorn in my side—gave me strength.

I can do this.

For him.

Inhaling hard, I strode onward.

* * * * *

Late afternoon, and I still hadn’t left the limbo of heartache.

I hadn’t come up with a plan. I hadn’t done anything but mope.

The hungrier and more tired I became, the more the crowds caused cold sweat to trickle down my spine. Sunshine burned me as if I was an ant under a magnifying glass. Every pair of eyes was malevolent.

The streets slithered this way and that, deeper into chaos.

I had no idea where I was going. I had no clue how I would find money to return to England or how I would track down my mother.

With every step, I hunkered down a little more, curling around the emptiness inside.

However, as hunger pains took precedent, my mind stopped torturing me with images of Elder and focused on survival. I needed money. For food, shelter, and transport. I needed a passport to cross the borders. I needed a miracle to achieve such things.

Or the sticky fingers Elder had taught me to wield.

The thought of stealing wasn’t new. I’d deliberated all night, looking, despite myself, for easy opportunities. But now another day was here, and my throat was dry, and a headache pinched my eyes, and I finally had no choice. The luxury of being above such necessities had faded, and I sagged against a building, trying to stay out of the way of bustling pedestrians.

I didn’t want to loiter like a criminal, but I also couldn’t keep walking with no direction.

I needed to be smart.

It was time to steal.

Self-disgust filled me even as I settled in to study potential victims and find the rhythm of the city. I eyed laughing tourists and assessed sharp chinned businessmen. I did my best to recall everything Elder had taught me about pickpocketing.

My fingers fanned out by my sides, willing to pilfer a wallet or purse but still so unskilled at being unseen.

As much as I didn’t want to do this, I had two choices: steal enough to get home or put myself at the mercy of others. I would have to blindly trust that the police weren’t corrupt, good Samaritans weren’t evil, and whoever came next into my life wouldn’t abuse me.

No.

I couldn’t.

I was too fragile. My confidence still so new. I couldn’t turn to another and trust. I had one person I trusted, and I’d run from him. The second best was me, myself, and I.

And No One.

No One…damn.

The crippling in my chest was all thanks to Elder and his story about being called No One by his family.

My journal would forever be linked to him.

He’d ruined the only sanctuary I had.

I missed him more than I could stand.

What was he doing? Had he decided to hell with me and left? Had he stayed and tried to find me?

Where I stood deep in the city surrounded by buildings and strangers, I couldn’t see the ocean. I couldn’t see the Phantom or the balcony where we’d stood side by side and faced the storm out to sea.

I can’t see if he’s gone…

Four girls walked past, two with gaping-open handbags and brightly coloured purses just begging to be looted.

It was as if fate had given me direction and told me to stop mauling painful thoughts. If Elder had gone, so be it. If he was still here, that wasn’t my concern.

I’d left because I loved him.

And I would steal because I needed to take responsibility for myself again.

Clutching my conviction, I pushed off from my resting place and followed.

For the first few steps, I felt nothing. Then, the longer I committed to doing this, the more adrenaline drenched my veins. I turned jumpy and edgy and paranoid.

I guessed the girls were in their early twenties, and judging by their tired faces from late nights and immaculate new clothing they were here to do some serious partying with unlimited shopping budgets.

Lucky for me, passers-by didn’t peg me as too out of place. I might not be wearing the latest catwalk fashion like my chosen hunted, but apart from a little toil from spending the night outside, my sundress was still appropriate; my hair still acceptable.

I was merely the fifth wheel to this quad of happy spenders, and no one noticed me lurking behind them.

My ears rang with their plastic laughter as they regaled tales of flirting with men last night only to drink their gifted cocktails before telling them they were too ugly for their tastes.

The more I listened, the less I liked them. Although, one girl didn’t say a thing, merely nodded and smiled when her friends were looking and cringed and rolled her eyes when they weren’t.

I liked her but not the others. I didn’t know why not liking them helped my resolve, but I continued to follow, eager now for an opportunity to rob rather than dreading it.

Finally, they stopped outside a café to read the menu, and my opportunity was handed to me.

I slammed to a stop. Two of the obnoxious girl’s handbags remained slung carelessly over their shoulders, one silver purse and one turquoise begging me to take them.

So I did.

Without looking around, my two hands vanished into two handbags and stole two purses.

A split second later, I turned and walked the other way.

The moment I marched away, the shakes started. A drenching of anxiety. A rush of sick excitement. A drowning of self-disgust.

Oh, my God.

I’d stolen for my own gain.

I hadn’t left a note apologising.

I’d judged those girls on their moronic conversation and bitchiness.

But I was the one in the wrong, not them.

Holy hell, I stole from them.

My heart couldn’t believe I’d become a criminal while yet more adrenaline spiked, making me drunk on such a scam.

I didn’t look where I was going as I tucked one purse beneath my arm and unzipped the silver one. Inside was a wad of hundred-dollar bills with more credit cards than I’d ever seen.

I didn’t know the first thing about credit card fraud, so I only took the cash and zipped up the wallet again. Passing by a café with its sunshine-bathing clientele, I left it on an outdoor table, hoping a nice waiter would find it and drop it at the nearest police station.

At least the girls would have a chance to have their cards and other mementos returned. I’d just take their cash. I’d use it wisely and gratefully and get myself home where I’d never have to steal again.

“Hey, you!” a screech whipped my head around.

The blonde girl who’d regaled and cackled about leading men on last night pointed at me. “Stop her. She’s a thief!” Her gaze went to the turquoise purse in my hands.

Her brunette friend yelled, “That’s my wallet! See!”

Pedestrians frowned, not willing to get involved just yet, giving me a few seconds to panic before everything exploded.

For a moment, I froze.

I couldn’t deny their accusations as they were entirely true. I was the one at fault, and all I wanted to do was apologise and beg for forgiveness while returning their property.

But if I did…I’d be arrested, and my previous imprisonment would begin all over again as a ward of the Monaco state rather than free at home with my mother.

No.

I couldn’t be locked up again.

By anyone.

“Stop, you little bitch!” Seeing as onlookers weren’t tackling me to the ground, the girls took matters into their own hands. “Get your thieving little ass back here!”

They charged.

I bolted.

I didn’t think. Instinct took over.

I ran as fast as I could through congested streets beneath hot sunshine. I weaved and parried. I didn’t look back. My lungs burst, my bones screamed, my eyes darted for a safe haven.

I might’ve run for two hours or two minutes—fear turned it into an unwinnable race. Gasping for air, I careened down a side street, hoping that by being off the main road, it would help me disappear.

I hoped wrong.

Oh, no…

Swallowing my terror, I came upon a dead end.

No, no, no.

Spinning around, I took three steps back the way I came only to slam to a stop as the slap of expensive sandals heralded the appearance of my victims.

They skidded into the alley, breathing hard, sweat dancing upon their perfect brows. They were all so pretty with styled hair, immaculate makeup, and top-of-the-line moisturised skin, but for three of them, no beauty could hide the ugliness inside them.

The blonde wearing a polka dot dress sneered. “Trapped now, aren’t ya, you little thief?”

I huddled in the shadows, wishing to God I hadn’t done what I did, desperate to make amends. My voice deserted me. Silence became my old friend and enemy.

The girls didn’t care.

They pressed forward. “Give us back our stuff, bitch.”

I tossed the turquoise wallet to them, watching it skid in a dirty puddle.

“And mine,” the blonde demanded, her gaze locked on the cash in my hands.

I opened my mouth to tell her I didn’t have it. That I’d left it on a café table and would gladly take her there to make amends, but a black-haired girl who looked more in control and cruelly intelligent than her fellow holiday goers pulled out her phone.

“Ladies, don’t stress yourself.” With a cold smile, she said, “Let’s call Harold and have him sort this matter out, shall we?”

The girl who hadn’t spoken, who stood a little away from her friends and hadn’t joined in the spiteful retelling of hurting men’s feelings, cringed. “Miranda…I don’t think—”

The black-haired girl shot her a look.

She shut up.

Glancing back at me, Miranda pressed a few buttons on her phone. Her smile was beastly. “You really shouldn’t have taken what wasn’t yours. Now Harold and his friends will have to teach you a lesson.”

Her brunette friend in grey shorts and white polo held up her hands. “Whoa, wait. We don’t need to get the men involved.”

I hoped she’d stand with her quiet friend and stop whatever was about to happen. Instead, her lips spread over sharp teeth. “Don’t let them have all the fun. We could do it.” She put up her fists with a mad laugh. “Just rough her up a little.”

Blondie wrinkled her nose. “Eww, I’m not hitting someone. I might break a nail.” She flashed vibrantly pink-glitter fingernails. “They’re gels, Monique. I spent hours at the salon yesterday getting them done.”

“No one is breaking a nail or resorting to D.I.Y,” Black-haired Witch snapped. “We are ladies, and ladies do not brawl.” Her chin came up. “Ladies deliver vengeance without getting their hands dirty. Therefore, Harold will take care of her. I have no doubt he’ll have a lot of fun teaching her how it feels to have things taken without consent.”

My knees buckled at the darkness in her tone. At the way her eyes glittered at the innuendos barely hidden in such a terrible sentence string.

I didn’t need to be taught.

I already knew.

Knew how it felt over and over again to have personal things taken without consent.

How my body had been used as entertainment for others.

How I’d had no say in it.

The betrayal.

The horrible knowledge I was worthless to the person hurting me.

Oh, my God, what have I done?

They were right.

I’d taken something of theirs without consent. I was just as bad as the assholes who’d hurt me. They had every right to be hurt and angry. I was hurt and angry. I’d been hurt and angry for years.

I wanted to open my mouth and apologise. To assure them that I would never steal again as I knew all too well what it was like to be on the receiving end of such theft.

But once again, my throat closed up, hiding my words, silencing my pleas. I wished I’d never used muteness as protection. I wished I could break such a curse and scream.

Then Miranda stabbed me with yet more horror as she murmured, “Harold is ingenious with his punishments. I imagine he’ll come up with something quite unique to remind you that stealing is not okay—” She narrowed her eyes, looking like a serpent ready for her next meal. “—Especially stealing from us.”

The mental images she painted.

The memory of ropes

and chains

and whips

and classical music

and blow jobs

and rapes

and pain.

No!

Falling to gristly knees long since ruined from doing such a thing, I collapsed into submission before them. Clasping my hands together, I fought every safety mechanism and willed my tongue to move.

In jilted begs, I whispered, “I’m s-so sorry. I didn’t mean…I have no excuse. I know what it’s like. I don’t need a lesson. I’ve had too many lessons.” Tears drenched my face without me crying as if my eyes evicted every droplet in preparation for the beating I knew was coming.

I never screamed with Alrik.

I never cried with Alrik.

I wouldn’t do that with this new punishment.

Old habits would never die.

“Please…” I hissed. “Please, don’t do this.”

Blondie and the girl who wasn’t like her friends stumbled back, alarm painting their pretty features.

Blondie switched from cursing me to rationality. “Hey, Miranda…know what? No harm done. We’ve got the cash back. I can cancel my cards. It’s fine…”

“I agree.” The nice girl tugged the black-haired one. “Come on, let’s just go.”

But Miranda shook her off, the same glint in her eye that Alrik used to get glowing brighter. “Nope. What’s done is done. She needs a little payback.” Moving forward, she held her phone to her ear and smiled as whoever she’d rung answered. “Harold, baby? Yeah, it’s me. Look, I need you to come here. A chick just tried to rob us.” Her smile turned from beastly to downright fatal. “Yep, that’s what I said. I knew you’d understand.” She nodded. “Yep. I’ve told her that you’ll come ‘talk’ to her. Make sure she doesn’t do it again.”

Laughing at something he said, she tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Okay, baby. See you in five.” Hanging up, she pointed a finger in my face. “And now, we wait. Get ready, bitch. You’re in for a world of pain.”