Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

AURORA

I ran blindly into the night. It was barely past six, but the quiet residential streets were mostly empty because of the pouring May rain. My thin ballet slipper flats were no match for the sidewalk puddles as I raced away from the house.

I'd killed him.

Maybe.

I couldn't force myself to care. He deserved it. In fact, both of them deserved whatever they had coming to them. I hoped Roman would bankrupt and humiliate the both of them.

Fuck their drinking.

Fuck their threats.

Fuck their taunts.

Fuck their problems.

Fuck them.

I was eighteen, an adult. I just needed to survive the next two weeks and then I could leave for Paris. Money was going to be an issue. Of course, I had planned on them paying my tuition and room and board, but with Roman accusing Alfred of embezzlement, there was little chance of that now. I didn't care. I would figure out a way to survive. I would look into a scholarship or music grant. I'd get a job. I'd do anything to no longer be beholden to my mother and stepfather. Soon I'd never have to lay eyes on them again. I would bet they'd be sorry then.

That is if he survived.

If he didn't, I'd be getting my college degree online from a prison cell.

It was self-defense.

Hopefully someone would believe me.

I stopped under the narrow awning of a closed jewelry shop. My entire body thrummed with adrenaline. Blood rushed in my ears. My heart was beating a rapid staccato in my chest. Sending up a silent prayer of thanks for yoga pants with pockets, I reached for my phone and called Eleanor. She didn't answer.

When her voicemail clicked on, I said, "Call me as soon as you get this. I need a place to stay tonight. It's bad. Really bad. Call me."

A text message from my mother appeared on my screen.

You've ruined everything. Alfred is furious.

Well, at least the asshole wasn't dead.

A notification from Instagram then popped up.

I opened the app.

Feeling reckless and just wanting to reach out to someone, anyone, even my faceless internet friends, I typed a quick message.

My asshole stepfather and mother deserve everything that is coming to them.

#notsorry #fuckthem

I then took a selfie of me flashing the backward V-sign. I looked like a very pissed off drowned rat. My hair was a tangled wet mess hanging lank over my shoulders. My T-shirt was soaked through, and my poor shoes were completely wrecked. After having a few moments to calm down, I surveyed the street.

Just a few blocks over was Belgrave Square Park. I often went there with my travel piano keyboard. Technically it was a private park, but the posh residents were sometimes forgetful about locking a gate. Other times, I'd get lucky and a resident would hold a gate open for me as they were leaving, assuming I was allowed in. I loved the quiet peace of the park with its ancient trees and hidden benches.

Swiping at a piece of wet hair stuck to my cheek, I looked both ways before crossing the street and heading toward the towering cream-colored buildings that circled half of the park. The streets became more and more deserted the closer I got. Most of the buildings were embassies or corporate offices so the area usually cleared out after five p.m.

I circled around one side, trying the wrought-iron gate doors to check if they were locked as I went.

When I came to the front and walked down Wilton Crescent, I noticed one of the nearby buildings was still lit up. The yellow lights from the windows cast a glistening gleam over the drenched trees of the park. A brass plate near the entrance caught my eye. Winterbourne Enterprises .

Holy shit.

This was Roman's company. It had to be.

I had never noticed it before but why would I. Up until last night, Roman Winterbourne was just some obscure man my stepfather occasionally mentioned at the dinner table.

Then last night changed everything. Everything.

I crept up to the imposing front entrance. Hiding behind one of the tall plants that flanked the massive black door, I peeked through a side window. I could see two men dressed all in black and holding super scary-looking automatic weapons guarding a reception desk, which had an older woman with a severe expression also dressed all in black. It would figure. It was probably the company uniform. It would be just like him to want all his employees to look sinister and unapproachable as fuck.

The adrenaline still raged through my veins. I wanted to do something reckless. I wanted to scream at someone, to blame someone for what was happening to me.

And it all started with Roman.

It had only been twenty-four hours since I first laid eyes on him, and my life was lying in shreds.

This was all his fault.

I peeked through the window again. There was no way I was going to be able to sneak past those guards and that woman. Just then I was shoved from behind. I slammed into the stone wall, scraping my cheek against the sharp edge of a brick that framed the side windows. As I turned to see who had hit me, a disheveled man in a wrinkled suit stumbled past me and barreled into the building. I grabbed the heavy black door before it shut completely. Keeping it open a sliver, I peered inside.

The man who had hit me began to shout, "Where is the bastard? Where is he?"

The guards sprang into action. They stepped up to the man and tried to push him back outside the lobby door.

The man threw a punch but missed his target. The momentum sent his drunk body sprawling onto the polished black marble floor. The guards reached for his flailing arms. "Get off me! I want to see Winterbourne! Tell that bastard to come and face me!"

It was then I recognized him. It was Trevor's father.

Now the woman came from around the desk and was shouting for the guards to take hold of Trevor's dad as he ranted and raged about Roman stealing his company.

Taking only a fraction of a second to think it through, I opened the door just wide enough to slip past and quickly scurried along the wall until I reached the elevators. In all the excitement, no one even noticed me.

It felt like an eternity before the elevator doors finally opened.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized the elevator was empty. I doubted I would have been able to explain my drowned rat appearance. I stepped inside and tapped the close door button several times. As the doors closed, I surveyed my options, deciding on the top floor. Men like Roman were always on the top floor.

I tilted my head back and stared at the glowing numbers as they slowly illuminated one after the other. As the elevator crept closer and closer to the top my resolve weakened. The instant rush of anger and righteousness had fled. Fear and doubt crashed down on my shoulders in their place. What the hell was I thinking? You didn't just barge in on a man like Roman Winterbourne.

I thought about earlier today at my school.

What I must have looked like, on my knees, submissive before him. Obeying his every command as he demanded I open my mouth. Taking his abusive thrusts one after the other as my lungs screamed for oxygen. The heels of my shoes digging into my sore flesh that still stung from the punishing swipes of his bamboo cane. The taste of him on my tongue. The full feeling of his butt plug pressing into me.

Which were all nothing compared to the night before.

He had stolen my first real kiss. My first orgasm.

My first sexual encounter should have been sweetly awkward, with a boy I liked. Instead it was terrifyingly intense and overwhelming, with a man I'd never seen before. In one night he had ripped away my naivety and innocence. Instead of learning the wonder of a sexual awakening with someone I loved, I was shown the dark, twisted side of lust with a man I now hated.

My anger rose again.

By the time the elevator stopped, a lightheaded rush washed over me and I was once again hell-bent on confronting Roman.

I held my breath, waiting for the large silver doors to open, having no idea what I would find on the other side. I braced myself for another lobby filled with gun-wielding guards.

As the doors slid open, I glimpsed a small luxurious reception area dominated by a pair of massive double doors. There was an air of power and exclusion, as if I had entered a forbidden realm of privilege and prestige in which I was not welcome.

Was this how Jane had felt as she gazed upon Thornfield for the first time?

Knowing the fight in the downstairs lobby was probably over and it would just be a matter of seconds before some security camera picked up on my presence, I knew I needed to make a decision. Now. Either step forward and confront Roman or press the close door button and ride the elevator back to the safety of the lobby and the outside street.

The weight of the decision pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

It was as if I was deciding how I wanted the rest of my life to play out.

As if this one simple decision, whether I stayed on the elevator or got off, would change the course of my entire life.

That was ludicrous, of course.

It was just my nerves and the episode with my stepfather playing on the darker parts of my imagination. How I wished I was back at my piano, quietly playing to the rhythm of the rain as it beat against the music room window.

The elevator doors started to close.

Startled, I reacted without thinking.

I stepped off the elevator and into my fate.

I rushed forward and grasped both handles to the double doors. Before I could think better of my actions, I pulled with all my might. They swung open to reveal a massive marble conference table surrounded by men and women in business attire. Each of their heads pivoted to stare at me. Their brows furrowed as they glanced at one another, wondering at my uninvited intrusion.

Then someone at the far end of the table rose.

It was Roman.

His voice matched the rolling thunder outside. "Aurora? What the hell are you doing here?"