High Stakes (The Kingdom Book 2) (35 page)

No alternative.

No way out.

Life has gone from being inexplicably beautiful, to hopelessly dark.

“I need to use the bathroom, and get showered.” I manage to get the words out on shaky breaths. I might only be delaying the inevitable but I need to buy myself more time. I’m not ready to even think about doing this. I don’t know how I’m going to make myself ready, no amount of preparation could do that, but I need to figure out a way.

“Okay,” he answers simply.

“Okay.” I smile to placate him, anything to get him to leave.

“I’ll wait right here.” He sits in the leather armchair in the corner of the room, stretching back and resting one ankle on his knee. He smiles crookedly at me then brings his hand up to his chin and rests it on his knuckles.

Shit.

“You don’t need to wait,” I whisper. “I might be a while; a girl has to look good for her wedding day and all that.”

I step forward, encouraging him to step back out of the bathroom and let me close the door behind him. I slip the lock in place as quietly as I possibly can; puzzling that he hasn’t taken all the locks off the doors in this condo, like he had the one we used to live in together. There was no such thing as privacy. I’m not sure if it’s something he’s overlooked, or if it’s meant to lull me into a false sense of security. Either way, I let out a painful breath when the lock is fully engaged.

I look around the room, not knowing why I’m really in here. I need time. But what for? Isn’t this just making it worse? Isn’t this just a form of torture, prolonging the agony of what’s to come?

I run the cold water and splash my face. I gasp when it hits me, but I’m grateful for the split second distraction.

I brace my hands on both sides of the sink and take several deep breaths before looking up at my reflection. This is the closest I’ve looked in the mirror for days. My skin is sallow, my eyes sunken and sad. What was a familiar sight a few years ago has come back to visit like an old unwelcome acquaintance. Time may have passed, but nothing has really changed.

I mindlessly open the cabinet above the sink, as if there will be a miraculous solution hiding amongst the ointments and lotions. This is the first time I have thought to look through anything of Jonny’s, nothing interesting in there, until …

A small brown bottle catches my eye …

A solution to this situation. In fact, a solution to every situation.

Do I have time? How long will it take for Jonny to break down the door?

I twist off the cap and pour six, maybe seven of the little white pills into my hand. At this moment, nothing has made more sense.

What’s the common denominator in every sorrowful situation over the last few years?

Me.

I’m the root of everyone’s problems. I’m always going to be the reason behind Jonny’s obsession and determination to hurt others, and I can’t live with that guilt.

I take the toothbrushes out of the cup, and fill it with water. It doesn’t even take me a second thought to know that this is the right decision. I throw the handful of pills into my mouth, and wash them down.

I tip a second handful of pills into my palm when Jonny knocks hard on the door. It makes me jump and nearly all of them go skittering across the floor.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” I call, nervously.

“Arianna, what are you doing?”

“Nothing, I’m just about to get into the shower.”

“You’re not deliberately keeping me waiting, are you? Because you know how much I hate to be kept waiting, baby.”

“No.” I laugh, “Of course not. You want me to look my best, right?”

“Of course.” I hear the smile in his voice.

“How would you like me to wear my hair?” I ask, stalling for time. Even five more minutes is a bonus.

I pick up as many pills as I can off of the floor, as I’m reluctant to tip the bottle for fear of him hearing the rattle those tiny little pills make, and knowing Jonny he’s pressing his ear up against the hardwood.

“Wear it up,” he requests. “Something elegant, so I can see your beautiful neck.”

“Okay,” I call.

How many have I had already? Is that enough?

I take the few more that I’ve gathered up from the floor and start to run the shower. I slip off the robe, wincing as the motion twists my newly injured ribs.

The shower is heavenly, the water cascades over my body and I feel remarkably calm considering the situation I’m in. There’s something very freeing about taking control of your destiny, taking control of your life, even if it is for just a few more hours. I wrap my arms around my aching ribs and drop my chin to my chest.

When I think of Denham, my heart feels heavy. I don’t regret this. Not one bit. But I do regret ever getting involved with Jonny Ellison. I regret it for all the hurt and pain he has caused for so many people.

If only I could have stopped it.

If only things could have been different.

If only …

I close my eyes tight, and think of all the good things that have happened. Every happy memory has Denham in it.

The night we played roulette in the casino.

Our first date and the fountain.

Our evening dancing at the rooftop lounge.

Our first time. The time he locked us in the gym. The time on the roof.

The playing card …
Every King needs a queen …

Pure, true, untainted happiness like I never thought I would be lucky enough to have.

“Arianna,” Jonny calls through the door, but his voice doesn’t sound right. It sounds close yet distant. “Arianna,” he calls louder but it still sounds so far away. I start to hear my pulse beat a little louder through my ears, and when I open my eyes I have to blink several times to focus. I’ve felt like this before, I recall the muted feeling.

I’ve been in control of every situation you’ve ever been in, even the ones you can’t remember yet … Stupid, beautiful girl …

And I start to remember. He came for me. He drugged me. He …

My head doesn’t allow me to think any further back. I lean against the cold tiled wall and slide as carefully as I can manage to the floor. My ribs are uncomfortable, but strangely numb, and my fingers start to tingle. I curl up in a small ball, with the water pouring over my body, and thankfully I start to lose control of my thoughts. My mind drifts to a time where I was happy.

I picture myself lying in Denham’s bed. He’s asleep, but we are facing each other and I reach my hand out to gently touch his stubbled jaw. He smiles, because even in sleep, we made each other happy. Such a small amount of time together, but such a big impact. I picture his lips, and the way they kissed me. The way he tasted. I can taste him … feel him.

There’s a bang, followed by another, then another. I try to open my eyes but they are too heavy. I hear wood splintering in the room around me. I’m too tired. Too tired to fight. Too tired to care.

So, with Denham as my last thought, I succumb to the pull of oblivion.

Freedom …

Escape …

Nothingness …

I FEEL LIKE I’VE
been thrown into a super-hot inferno of hell.

I sit in my office after another long day at the hospital, and pour myself a whiskey. I know I’ve been drinking far too much, but as much as I drink it does nothing to quiet my mind. Thoughts race at the speed and power of a thousand galloping horses, and it never stops. I’m trying to piece it all together, but no matter how hard I try, it still doesn’t make sense.

Why him? Why my brother?

If we had just gone inside a minute sooner …

Why her? My girl …

If she had just given me the courtesy of an explanation.

Even when my father died, I never felt so lost, so angry and as helpless as I do now.

Spike, Arianna …

Fuck, I don’t know what hurts the most. They’ve both torn my heart to shreds, and in totally different ways.

How could she do that to me? To us? Was she really that good of an actress that I felt something that wasn’t there at all? Was I so blinded by her that I opened my heart and let her rip it from my chest? Fuck it …

I slam back the whiskey and grab the bottle to pour another even as the burn is still fresh in the back of my throat. My thumb rolls over the screen of my cell and brings it to life. Her pretty face stares back at me from the screen picture I can’t bear to delete. Then I scroll to the last message she sent me, and my chest goes into a spasm.

I can’t do this. See you around. A x

Fuck, it hurts. I expect the words to have less of an impact each time I open it up, but it doesn’t. So cold. Impersonal, and just … it’s not right. I know I should let it go, but I can’t. She came back here while Spike was fighting for his life in that hospital bed and took all of her belongings. All except for her designs. She took everything else, including the diamonds- $50,000 worth of diamonds. Is that what she was after all along? Money?

I recall what James Ellis, or Jonny as she called him, said that night, ‘If you’ve got cash, she’s a loose cannon.’ Fucking hell, James Ellis for fuck’s sake. I had heard of him, but he is known as being illusive. He’s also known as one of the biggest investors in Las Vegas, and since that night, no one has been able to trace him. So, they were in it together? Her tall tales about abuse were all cleverly invented to what? Con me?

There is a knock at the door, and then Jack pushes it open cautiously,

“I’m sorry, sir. He insists he has something you need to know,” Jack says cryptically as he pushes the door open wide.

The anger and frustration that’s dangerously bubbling up through my chest, rises a few more degrees when I see Aaron Jamesson standing there.

“You,” I say viciously, leaning forward in my seat like a tiger ready to pounce. This is the guy that not only ripped me off, he hurt my girl. Her ex-husband who actually caused her physical pain. Jealousy and anger rage in my stomach and I am totally ready to hurdle this desk in front of me, and nail him to the wall.

He holds his hands up in front of him and stutters, “I just need five minutes of your time, then you can do what you want with me.”

“You’ve got two minutes to tell me what’s so important that I shouldn’t beat you into the ground right now,” I growl, barely controlling my temper. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know it wouldn’t be right to unleash such frustration on him but I can’t help but think how good it would feel. My hands ball into fists at my side and clench tightly.

“I know where she is and I need your help.”

“What?”

“Natalie … I-I mean, Arianna. She’s with James Ellis.”

“You wanna tell me something I don’t know?” I say, huffing in frustration. I’m giving him thirty seconds to convince me not to hammer his head into my desk.

“He’s dangerous.”

“No, they’re a pair of fucking twisted hyenas.”

“He’s hurt her, bad.”

My skin prickles and I feel like he’s just taken the breath from my lungs.

“Are you shitting me?”

He answers quickly, shaking his head frantically, “No. No. I promise.”

“Cause if you’re messing with me, I’ll put a fucking bullet through that thick head of yours … and god help me, I will do it.”