Yes, Mr. Van Der Wells (Not Another Billionaire Romance) (53 page)

After reading the words, I find I’m out of strength to deal with his crap anymore. Refusing to waste anymore of my breath on this, I turn and look out the window.

I don’t acknowledge when he touches me again for attention. There’s nothing he can say or do to convince me to accept this unwanted marriage, or to look at him the way I once did. Back in those times, when I adored him, got giddy and excited whenever he came to visit me or took me out, he was a completely different man than the one he later revealed himself to be. Cruel, selfish, promiscuous, mean, and abusive. He needs help, alright. Truck loads of it. But I’ll be damned if I contribute even an ounce of energy toward his betterment.

I feel his chest lean into my arm, his blood-damped chin sitting on my shoulder, a sigh along my cheek. “I don’t…know…know how to let…you go.” His voice is like fingernails scraping on zinc, throat so messed up. “I…can’t…baby.”

This I don’t acknowledge either.

We drive in silence for the rest of the journey back to Ball & Chain, Andrew leaning into me like a leech, chin on my shoulder.

As I wearily, reluctantly, climb out of the car, my whole body aching, I glance around, waiting, expecting, before finally accepting.
Noah isn’t coming
. From my attempt to leave last night, he no doubt thinks I’ve run off.

The truth slams into me like a speeding truck, right there and then:
Noah isn’t coming
.

“I won’t say ‘I do!’” I yell as I’m being tugged and shoved into the building by Lucas. “You can’t make me!”

“Luckily, we have six witnesses here to vow that you did,” Lucas growls. “Now shut up and keep walking.”

I’m across the threshold, halfway to the reception desk, when I notice Andrew and the others have stopped outside the door, bodies turning in the opposite direction. An exchange is going on, their stance defensive. A shuffling.

Lucas pauses and assesses, his grip on my arm tightening. When the hold-up prolongs, he glares down at me and orders, “Don’t move,” before releasing his hold on me and stalking out the door.

I move. Jogging behind Lucas and pushing through the men. I stop to a halt.

There’s a 1 versus 5 face-off. The one being the pilot who flew us here verses Andrew and his men.

What the hell
?

“I swear to you, the cops are on their way,” says the pilot. “Let her go!” He’s visibly shaken. His bravery is bravado. This man barely said two words to me when we boarded the plan, so how has he become my defender? And isn’t he supposed to be on Andrew’s side?

“
Back off
, Norman,” one man warns. “Last chance I’m gonna give you. Or Q will be one pilot short.”

Q?
Q
? He’s in this too?! Grrrr, I’m going to claw his sickeningly pretty face off!

“Charlotte Cooley,” the pilot says, “come. Come with me. Don’t be afraid. The cops are on their way. Mr. Van Der Wells and Mr. James are on their way.”

Confusion keeps me frozen. I don’t go to him, because I don’t trust him either. He’s Qwesie’s pilot. Qwesie, who’s supposedly aiding Andrew. Yet he’s telling me Noah and Qwesie are on their way, and I’m supposed to go to him?

Better to stick to the evil I know, so I don’t move.

“Charlotte Cooley, I won’t harm you,” he insists.

“As you….can… see,” Andrew drags, pleased as a well-licked puss, as his voice gains a little strength, “my…fiancée doesn’t….want to leave. Also….your time…is up.”

Andrew nods to Lucas, and Lucas closes in on the pilot, whose eyes widen in fear as he begins backing up, tripping over his feet, and falling on his ass, promptly beginning to scamper, though I commend him on not begging for his life.

Lucas bends and grabs a fistful of his collar, one fist raised in the air, ready to deliver a blow, when—
whoapwhoawhoap
! The strident sound of sirens has everyone freezing; red and blue lights flashing over our wide-eyed faces as a swarm of squad cars swing up from both directions, forming a haphazard circle, stopping traffic.

At the sight of this, my knees give out and I crumple to ground. He found me. He came.
He found me.

Harsh, “hands up, don’t move” instructions are bellowed out, strong men drop to their knees with hands behind their heads. I’m vaguely aware of anything. I feel weak. So weak. But I don’t have to be strong anymore, because
he’s
here. My air. He’ll be strong enough for the both of us. He’ll
breathe
for the both of us.

Someone drops down beside me, and the orders from the cops become more urgent at this.

Andrew. I smell him. His scent is desperation. “Lotty…baby…Don’t go with…them. Don’t let them…take…you…from….me. Marry me. Save me…Save….me from…myself. I love you…so much. I…love you…so…much. Please. Stay…with…me.  ”

Consciousness slips in and out, slowly abandoning me to the darkness. But I manage, before it overpowers me, to whisper, “Freedom.”

I wake up to a suite of chatter and the scent of French fries and cheese.

Flipping over on my back, but with no desire whatsoever to get out of bed, I check the time on the nightstand. 2:42 PM. I’ve slept through damn near half the day.

As the events of the night before come surfing in, I throw an arm across my eyes.

Last night, after I came to, I was taken to the hospital where I was cleaned up and treated for minor injuries. During which time, two officers came and took my statement. Noah, Muscles, and Qwesie’s pilot gave theirs, too. My ribs were bruised but not fractured, and my right forearm that I’d fallen on was scraped raw.  

Andrew was charged with first-degree kidnapping and false imprisonment, his men with aiding and abetting. They also contacted the department in San Francisco, had two-faced Mike picked up from the hotel. He, too, would receive aiding and abetting charges. I was, however, advised to take out a restraining order, as it is likely Andrew will get out on bail with a few phone calls. Next, I am to get a lawyer and gear up for trials.

Wasting no more time, we then boarded the jet back to San Francisco, where the men filled me in on Qwesie’s mind-blowing connection to Andrew—or
Drew James
, which I’m told is his real name—while Noah babied me, sulked, growled at no one in particular, and then babied me some more.

Hearing Qwesie’s side filled in the blanks on what Andrew told me about his mother in the car. They also explained the pilot’s interference. Once he got the call from Qwesie and found out I was abducted, he got a car and tailed us so it would be easier for them to get to me once they landed. At the last minute, he went against Noah’s orders and called the cops and interfered. I’m not sure what Noah and Muscles had planned for Andrew, but I’m glad the pilot called the cops. The cleaner this ends, the better.

By the time we landed in SF and got back to the hotel, I was so numb, so out of it, that I climbed right into bed, as is, and fell instantly asleep. I can’t remember feeling Noah getting in with me. Was probably
too
numb.

He didn’t talk much after we boarded the jet last night. Just watched me mostly, stayed close, hugged me and kissed my temple at five-minute intervals. Qwesie and Muscles did all the talking, the filling in. And I never asked what was on his mind, or how he felt. My head not being in the right place.

Now, though, I wish I’d rolled over and found him right here, never minding that it’s almost three in the afternoon.

A familiar voice has me tearing my arm from over my eyes and frowning up at the ceiling. Is that
Gloriel
?

When did she get here?

With this ‘motivating’ reason to get out of bed, I plod to the bathroom to clean the stink from my mouth and the oil from my skin, wincing each time I try to raise my hand, my bruised ribs complaining each time I bend. 

I pad from the room in a white undershirt and underpants, both belonging to Noah.

Out in the living area of my suite lounges Muscles, Kiera, Qwesie, and Gloriel.

“Glori—” I don’t get to finish as Kiera surges up and barrels into me, almost knocking me flat on the ground, my ribs grumbling at the disturbance.

“I knew it!” she cried into my hair. “I knew you’d never just up and leave me again. And that asshat jerkwad man of yours made me believe he wasn’t going after you. They had to drug me to shut me up.”

My eyebrows kiss the ceiling as I unravel from her hug and push back a little to see her face. “They
drugged
you?”

“I didn’t drug her,” Muscles immediately defends. “I just slipped a Xanax in her juice to calm her down.”

Peering around Kiera to glare at him, I ask, “And how is that not drugging?”

His lips form a smirk as he slips his hands in his pockets. “Because Xanax was not the only thing I slipped her to keep quiet.”

My eyes moves back to Kiera.

She rolls hers.

Grinning, I ask her, “Then what are you complaining about, mi amiga?”

“I wasn’t
complaining
!” she refutes. “I was just…telling you what happened?”

“Yeah, but you left out the best part.” My gaze cuts to Muscles, and I wink. “You ever wanna calm me down, Black Goliath, I’ll have absolutely no objection to your method. Minus the Xanax, of course. Just the raw part.”

Muscles dips his head and shakes it, but I see the flash of teeth.

Qwesie, who’s sitting on the floor with his back at the sofa, biting into a cheeseburger, chuckles. “Nice to have you, and your mouth, back, Lotty.”

I raise a brow at him. “Would you have rather me back
without
it?”

“Oh no, no,
no
, luv,” he answers quickly, setting his burger down on the tray beside him. “I can think of a thousand ways I could do well with your mouth in my life.” He pats his lap. “Come over here and sit on daddy’s lap. Let me tell you all the ways…”

“Lord help us, but can’t you people have a conversation without turning everything into a sexual innuendo?” Gloriel snaps at us. “What are you, sophomores?”

“Actually,” Kiera replies, hand waving to indicate her and me, “we are. I don’t know what their excuses are, though.”

I’m already moving across the room to encase Gloriel in a hug, holding her a little longer and a little tighter than I intend to. It feels so good. The hug I wish I could’ve given Mom before she left me. It’s never until you’ve almost lost everything, that you begin to appreciate all the little things. Like hugs and laughter. All the things I’ve been rejecting before, I want them now. Every bit. Every second, every minute, every hour of life, is precious. An unmerited gift. Never waste it. Never reject the kindness from others. Better to have genuine benevolence than pride. Pride gets you into trouble, kindness gets you out of it.

Gloriel is the one to break the embrace, but I’m not ready to lose her touch, so I just shift to the side, looping an arm around her waist, resting my head on her shoulder. “Noah didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“That’s because I didn’t tell him I was coming” she clarifies, not pulling away, understanding that I just need her in that moment. “I got here before you guys did, actually. I have some friends I checked in on.”

“Sarah?” I guess. Dad’s first wife.

She nods as confirmation and then tugs me back in front of her, holding my face. “Noah told me what happened. But don’t worry. I’ve already called my lawyer. He’ll help you. He’s going to make sure that filth gets at least a few years in jail. Let him know what abuse and imprisonment feels like. We’ll take care of you.”

I believe she will. “Thank you.”

Gloriel’s eyes widen a fraction, but then her shoulders visibly relax. I know why: It’s the first I’ve ever just accepted her help without putting up a fight first. And it’s obvious she was expecting one. Honest to God, though, I’m tired of fighting. If I’m going to fight, it will be over something that deserves me fighting. Not a proponent offering me help and support.

“Good.” She pats my cheek and hauls me in for another hug. “Now that it’s your twentieth birthday, there’s something I need to talk to you and my son about.”

Oh Jesus. Not this again. Did she fly all the way here to spy on us? To make sure Noah and me aren’t doing the hokey pokey?

Love her, but this is my cue to start backing up. “Where is he by the way?”

“Left about three hours ago to hit the gym,” Muscles supplies.

“Three hours?!” Qwesie exclaims. “What’s he trying to build? A second chest?”

“Keep stuffing your face with crap food like that,” I point at him, sneakily inching away from Gloriel, “and you’ll end up with a second gut.”

Skipping off to the bedroom, Kiera behind me, I change into leggings, tank top, and sneakers.

“You’re seriously going down to the gym without eating anything after sleeping through half the day?” she asks, brows up high. “You crazy woman, you’ll pass out.”

“He’ll catch me.”

Leaning back on the wall by the door, she watches me get dressed. “You’re taking what happened a lot better than he’s taking it.”

That’s because what happened last night was just a mild version of what’s happened to me throughout my time with Andrew. All I walked away with last night is a scarred arm and bruised ribs. On a normal day with Andrew, I walked away with a lot worse than that. I’m just glad it’s over. Or at least,
almost
over.