Authors: N. Michaels
“I’m…” I try to tame my shaking frame and get my rambling thoughts in order. “I’m fine. He didn’t… didn’t touch me… thanks to you…”
I look deep into Mr. Miller’s eyes with gratitude and in the dim light I see something passing in his eyes but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared.
“Thank you.” I say hoarsely, tears are threatening to break through.
“You’re welcome.” Mr. Miller sighs deeply. “Let me call security and get his drunk ass thrown out of our room.” He looks down at Mark, disgusted.
My arms cover my breasts as a chill runs down my spine, the thought of what might have happened if Mr. Miller would not have been here hits me like a freight train.
“I’m going back to bed.” I mumble and leave to my bedroom.
Remotely, I hear Mr. Miller calling the hotels security. The moment I step inside my room, I collapse on the floor and start sobbing uncontrollably.
Why do I always attract the douchebags?
I tell myself to get up and get into bed, but my body is not responding to my brain’s commands. Suddenly, I feel a warm hand caressing my arm. I shriek and jerk away from it. Fear is seizing me again.
“Shh… Shh…Katherine, it’s me. It’s Eric.” His voice is raspy and low.
I lift my tearstained face up and see him crouching in front of me, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. His brows furrowed and he looks at me worriedly.
“Come on, you need to get dressed. The police is here, they want to ask you a few questions.”
He manages to get me to kneel up and I sit back on my heels, shaking my head. “No… No police. I don’t want to press charges. He didn’t do anything.” My voice cracks as hot tears slide down my cheeks, staining the silk that covers my breasts. Hastily, I swipe my tears with my fingers but they just keep pouring out of me uncontrollably.
Mr. Miller’s frown deepens, “What do you mean he didn’t do anything? He attacked you!” he growls.
I shake my head again. “He was drunk… he doesn’t know what his doing when he’s drunk and when he sobers up, he doesn’t remember anything.”
But truth be told, I just don’t want this type of attention linked back at me. It won’t do my parents or me any good. They’re somewhat of celebrities in our community, pressing charges will tarnish their impeccable status, and what also doesn’t help the situation, is that Mark’s father and papa are old friends.
Complete and total bullshit I know, but I can’t do that to my parents.
After taking six deep breaths, my tears finally start to subside.
“That’s not an excuse!” Mr. Miller grabs my shoulders softly.
“I just want to sleep. I know how to handle Mark.” I try to finish the discussion.
“That’s not what I saw when I entered the room.” His tone is cold and accusatory.
My eyes flash to his and a lone tear slides slowly down my cheek, while I use every little shred of self-control not to break down again.
I start trembling in his grasp and he sighs, “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant… shit… it’s not your fault. Are you sure you don’t want to press charges?” Mr. Miller asks gently.
I nod and we stay like this for a few moments in silence. Mr. Miller shakes his head as if he’s trying to clear it, his brows furrowing again. He looks at me, head to toe, making me shiver as I realize how I must look right now, broken, afraid and traumatized. It causes another wave of new sobs to lunge at my throat and I try with everything I got to push them down and calm down.
“No.” he says with finality. “He won’t get the, ‘get out of jail free card’. He needs to pay for what he did to you- “
“He didn’t
do
anything! You stopped him!” the words surge out of my mouth, my eyes widening with distress. “Please…
please,
don’t tell the police. I just want to…” my voice breaks and my head falls down, fresh tears spill from my eyes. “I just want to sleep.” I whisper, my voice raspy from all the sobbing and from the lump in my throat, which I can’t seem to swallow down.
Seconds tick by, agonizingly slow until Mr. Miller finally speaks, “Even thought I think it’s a mistake.” he lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll respect your decision.” He sounds irritated.
Mr. Miller helps me up on my feet. His warm hand reaches for my chin, tilting my head so I am able to look into his turbulent eyes.
“I’ll leave my bedroom door open. If you need
anything,
anything at all, let me know.” he wipes another fat tear that’s gliding down my cheek with his thumb.
“Ok.” I whisper and nod.
Mr. Miller’s stunning eyes are reaching deep into to my soul, soothing me and promising me everything will be ok, but I’m empty now. I just want to sleep and water… I want a glass of water.
“Could you please get me a glass of water?” my voice shakes as I ask uncomfortably.
He saved me. I owe him, big time.
Mr. Miller’s lips pick up into a small smile. “Of course. I’ll be right back.” His hand caresses my cheek one last time before he lowers it, and I feel my skin cool down instantly at the absent of his warmth.
I wait for him; leaning against the doorframe, wrapping my arms around my middle to warm myself when I notice his bedroom door is wide open. I look blankly into his room. It’s dark, besides the moonlight falling on his bed. I notice the covers are oddly arranged. I focus on them and realize someone is lying beneath them. A blonde.
Eliza.
Jealousy floods my blood, tightening my throat in a death grip. My hands clench tightly into fists. I force myself to push it to the back of my mind. I’m too overwhelmed to care about that at the moment. I turn around and sit down on my bed, breathing in and out slowly and deeply, forcing my hands to open up. Moments later, Mr. Miller comes back holding a cold glass of water with a slice of lemon floating inside. I thank him and drown it with un-lady like gulps. I hand it back to him muttering another ‘thank you’, not even acknowledging the lemon. Mr. Miller leaves after wishing me a good night and reminding me that his door is open.
Not like I’ll be going in there anytime soon.
I close my door behind him and lock it. I encase myself in the softness of the covers and finally stop shivering when their warmth seeps into me. I close my eyes and drift into a haunted sleep, dreaming of stormy turquoise eyes that reassure me everything is all right but then vanish into a whirl of blond hair.
I wake up with the same feeling I felt last night, emptiness. I force myself to rise and drag myself into the shower. Under the hot stream of water, I scrub my body extra firmly.
It almost happened. Again. Now It’s over. Move on.
I keep repeating the words like a mantra. By the time I’m done and wrapped up in a towel, I feel a bit stronger, I managed to banish the emptiness.
I remember the first time Mark tried to have sex with me while he was drunk. I kept saying no because I don’t like smelly, drunk dumbasses trying to do me, but he kept insisting until suddenly he was done talking, he just grabbed me by my hair and dragged me to his bed. I started screaming and thankfully his older brother, Joel, heard me. Joel rushed in and pulled Mark off of me. I ran away, crying and scared.
The next day Mark came by to apologize for what he’d done. Not that it was a real apology, just ‘Hey babe, sorry about that… I won’t drink that much next time.’ and I believed him. Needless to say there was no ‘next time’
.
After getting dressed in grey slacks and cream button down shirt, I pull my hair into a neat ponytail, letting my long side-swept bangs fall freely. I apply a light-tone makeup and head out of the suite to have breakfast at the hotels restaurant.
I don’t want to eat here.
When I leave my bedroom, I see that Mr. Miller’s door is still open and Eliza is still sleeping in his bed. He himself is not in his bed, nor in the suite for that matter.
Working out probably.
I fight the wave of jealousy again and head out. I order an omelet, a fruit cup and Mint tea. While I wait, I check my phone for any messages. I have a one missed call and one voicemail. I listen to the message, hearing Milan’s voice.
“Hey, Katusha! I’m so glad to hear from you! I’m coming back early, so call me and let me know where you at so we can catch up! Vera sends kisses and hugs, as do I! Call me!” her cheerful voice makes me smile.
I miss them so much!
It’s when I’m about to dial Milan back, I hear him. “May I join you?” Mr. Miller’s voice is calm. The raspy tone makes my skin form goose bumps.
Turning the screen off on my phone, I lift my head and find him standing before me, dressed in black slacks and light blue button down shirt. It makes his breathtaking eyes even more beautiful. His hair is combed and his signature strands fall delicately on his forehead. He looks delicious as always.
Visions from last night flash before my eyes, but I manage a small smile and say, “Of course.”
Mr. Miller sits down while his eyes scrutinize me. “You’re pale.” He states.
“I’m fine. What happened to Mark?”
Mr. Miller frowns. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes. Is he all right?”
Mark is an asshole, but I’ve known him since we were sixteen. When he gets drunk it’s like he has a personality transplant.
Mr. Miller’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re seriously asking me, if
he
is ok after what happened last night?” he asks incredulous.
I see Mr. Miller tense up right before my eyes. His body language tells me he’s barely keeping himself under control. His hands flex into fists and I notice that both sets of knuckles are pink and the skin is slightly broken.
Must be from his punch last night.
“I’ve known Mark for a long time. It wasn’t him last night… he’s different when he’s drunk. Yes, it’s not an excuse but I just know that if he were sober, he would never have dreamt about doing something like that to me. I’m sure he’s beating himself up right now.”
Mr. Miller looks away and takes a deep breath before looking back into my eyes. “He spent the night at the police station. I tried to convince the officers to charge him with assault, telling them I was a witness but they said that without your statement and you pressing charges, they got nothing so he’s probably leaving right now.” he grimaces.
“Thank you again, for last night…” I feel my cheeks flame for no apparent reason.
“Don’t worry about it,” he holds my gaze.
The waiter comes back with my order and Mr. Miller orders the same breakfast I’m having but with turkey sausage.
“I rescheduled our meetings for tomorrow. I thought you needed some… time.” Mr. Miller says softly and I simply nod, saying nothing.
“How is Eliza feeling?” I change the subject.
“She’s probably having a lovely hangover.” He scoffs.
“How did you two meet?” I ask after swallowing a piece of my omelet.
Mr. Miller shifts in his seat and I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about her. But after a beat and a small sigh he says, “I knew her since I was nineteen but we were never close. After my father’s accident she started coming around more often to hangout with me… to cheer me up I guess.” He shrugs and looks away for a moment. “She’s someone I can be
myself
with… but I’ve never loved her.” Mr. Miller says the last five words, looking deep into my eyes as though he’s trying to reassure me, even though it’s useless right now. I’ve decided I wouldn’t pursue him because I can’t lose this job.
“So you don’t love her, but you use her?” I’m a little disappointed and I’m sure it shows.
“I don’t use her. I don’t
use
people. Eliza knows the way I feel about her, or actually the way I
don’t
feel about her and she decided to stick around anyway. It’s not like I’m the big bad wolf and she’s an innocent sheep.”
“No… nothing innocent about her. You’re right about that.” I mumble.
“You don’t like her.” its more a statement than a question.
“What’s there to like? She’s been marking her territory like a cranky Poodle ever since she laid eyes on me. She knows you don’t love her, yet she pretends to be your girlfriend. She’s clearly using your money, as payment for her sexual favors. The first thing that pops into my mind is the word
prostitute
, but then again she looks like she comes from a wealthy family, meaning she doesn’t
need
your money… that leads me to believe she’s a social climber that hooked herself a big fat fish. She doesn’t want to lose you or the status that comes with you, so she makes it nearly impossible for other woman to get close to you. And since she thinks she’s here for the long haul, she believes she will be a concrete part of your future.” I say then take a long sip from my tea.
“Wow… you seem to have her worked out completely.” Mr. Miller looks at me with an unreadable face and I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, or her… it was just my opinion.”
“No need for that. You’re entitled to your opinion and you’re
almost
right about everything.” He admits calmly, like he just said I was right about an answer in a basic math problem.
“And you’re ok with the fact she’s basically using
you?
” my eyebrows pick up while I wait for his answer.