Page 34 of Unforgettable
“You can trust us,” Hannah says. “This is a judgment-free zone.”
Pretty to think so. With a defeated sigh, I decide I might as well get it over with. “The woman’s name is Christi, and the man with her is Nelson Grant.”
Slade’s eyes find mine in the mirror, and I can tell something about the name registers with him, but he doesn’t say anything.
“He was my foster father… Matthew’s too.”
This time when Slade meets my eyes in the rearview mirror, I know he’s heard the name Nelson Grant before. I wonder how much he knows. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You can trust us.”
“You know who he is, don’t you?” I ask.
Slade’s eyes grow dark, and I again wonder just how much he knows about Mr. Perfect. “Matthew’s told me some things,” he says evasively.
“To make a long story short, I ran away. I came to New York to disappear. I don’t know why they would even be here. They should be in Chicago…” I trail off. “It doesn’t make any sense. Mr. Perfect never leaves Red House…” I shake myself, trying to speculate why they are here isn’t going to change anything.
What I need to focus on is my next move. I can’t stay here anymore. I’ll never be safe in this city again. Now that they know I’m here, he’ll stop at nothing to get me back. I can’t go back. I’d rather die than go back.
Just the thought of going on the run again fills me with exhaustion. I’m so sick of running. Of always having to look over my shoulder. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s a lonely existence. Never being able to trust anyone, having to be suspicious of everyone and everything. There were nights when I would have to sleep on the street because the shelters were full, always alone and scared. Those nights, for a brief, fleeting moment, I longed for my bed at Red House.
I missed the girls. Well, Cara and Lydia. Some of the girls, like Christi, seemed to enjoy the life we were forced into at Red House. I’ll never understand it. I don’t think I want to understand how a person could come to enjoy being abused. The thought makes me sick.
“What’s Red House?” Hannah asks.
I turn and look into her kind, green eyes. “A whore house for men with particular tastes.”
Her eyes grow wide with understanding, but she doesn’t say anything. Slade’s jaw is so tight I’m surprised his teeth don’t crack. They don’t ask me any more questions after that, thankfully. I try to remember how much cash I have left. I wonder how far it’ll get me. Thankfully, bus tickets can be cheap when you don’t care where you’re going.
I’m so lost in making plans for how I’m going to get out of the city, that I don’t realize we’ve stopped driving. I let out a scream when my door opens unexpectedly. I calm down instantly when Matthew’s worried face comes into view.
“Rosie,” he rasps, then pulls me out of the SUV and straight into his arms. “Are you okay, love?”
“We should go inside to have this little chat, boss,” Slade suggests.
He helps Hannah from the SUV and guides her toward the building. I look up and realize we are at Black Rose. It’s surreal seeing my name on the sign. I didn’t pay attention the night Damon brought me here and when I left with Kisten we went out the employee exit. It wasn’t until Hannah started talking about the club that she realized I didn’t know that it was named after me. I wonder for a moment why Slade brought us here instead of Matthew’s home. Then it hits me, of course Slade brought me here. Matthew is supposed to be working. Instead, he’s worrying over me… again.
We follow behind Slade and Hannah. If Matthew is surprised when Slade leads us to the elevator then to the penthouse above the club, he doesn’t show it. Once we are inside, Matthew leads me to one of the sofas and sits me down. A few seconds later, Hannah hands me a bottle of orange juice.
“It’ll help with the shakes,” she says.
I didn’t even realize I was shaking. Adrenaline will do that to a girl, I guess. I take a few careful sips of the juice. “You okay?” Hannah asks.
I just shake my head because, no, I’m not okay. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay.
“Matthew and Slade won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe here.” Hannah sounds so damn sure of herself. Sure of Matthew and Slade. I want to believe it. I really do, but hope is the cruel sister to fate, and she likes to kick me when I’m down. And right now, I’m ten feet under and drowning quick.
Slade and Matthew take a seat, and I know it’s almost time for me to tell my story. The whole story. I jump up from the couch and make an excuse about needing the restroom. I retreat to the privacy of the bathroom and do my best to pull myself together. If I’m not going to run—if I’m going to ask these people to help me—the least I can do is tell them exactly what I am and who they are up against.
When I come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, I’m surprised to see Hannah kneeling between Slade’s legs. She has her head resting against his thigh, and he’s stroking her hair. If I didn’t know any better, I would say they are the picture of a perfect, loving couple. Hannah looks so relaxed and peaceful. All the tension and stress seem to have melted away.
I look at Matthew, then back to Slade and Hannah. I don’t analyze it. I don’t think. I just walk over to Matthew and kneel in front of him. He looks like he wants to protest, but when I lay my head against his thigh and wrap my arms around his leg, clinging to him, he settles back into his chair. His fingers sift through my hair, and I let out a cleansing breath.
I know we have a lot to talk about. I know it’s not fair of me to avoid the conversation, but I selfishly just want to bask in Matthew’s love. I want him to take away all my worries and stress. I don’t want to think anymore, and so, I don’t. I turn all of my focus to the soothing feel of Matthew gently massaging my scalp and running his fingers through my hair.
The most wonderful thing happens as I’m kneeling in front of Matthew. For the first time ever, my mind is quiet. There are no ugly voices telling me I’m a whore, no anxiety or stress or worry or fear… There’s nothing. Just peace.