“Shhhhh, It’s alright El. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.” I try to calm her down as she backs away a few steps, putting space between us. “Come in.” I step aside so she can enter the main area of the suite.
“Thank you, Adam.” Ellie walks into the luxurious lounge, taking in all of the plush furnishings that we wouldn’t dream of having in Hackney. She chooses a soft, ultra suede couch to sit on and lowers herself gracefully.
I take in all of her, her wavy blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail, softly trailing down her back. She’s wearing a tight pair of black leggings with high black riding boots, and a form-fitting, blue, half-zip jumper that makes her eyes look like sapphires. Gorgeous as she is, she’s not wearing makeup and she certainly doesn’t need any.
I notice that the giant engagement ring is gone from her left hand. Did she leave it off on purpose? Or did she just forget to put it on? I swallow loudly, trying not to let my nerves show.
“Do you want a drink?” I feel completely inadequate in her presence and have no idea what to say.
Ellie shakes her head and looks down at the ground, her dark lashes splayed beautifully against her pale cheek. Her hands twist in her lap, betraying her own anxiety.
I take the seat next to her and lean back with one leg tucked under so I can sit facing her.
“Thank you for coming, El. I … shit. I wanted to apologize for what happened in L.A.” My voice cracks, and I swear, I can feel the tears build up behind my eyes. I drop my head into my hands, fisting my hair, and stare at a tiny hole in my ridiculously expensive distressed jeans.
Fuck! I blink several times to clear out the moisture that threatens to betray me.
“I drank so much that night, I didn’t even know you were there until Kate told me the next day,” I admit, so embarrassed I can’t look at her.
“Adam,” Ellie whispers, “it’s okay. I’m okay now. That was a long time ago. I want you to stop drinking so much, please.”
How humiliating. She’s obviously seen the tabloid articles that love to report each and every one of my drunken mishaps.
Impulsively, she reaches out a hand and she puts it on top of my knee, rubbing gently, the warmth of her touch seeping through my jeans, scorching me under the fabric. Ellie doesn’t care about tabloids or image-control… she cares about me. The real me. One of the only people in my life that ever did.
My gaze flicks up and our eyes connect, caught as if in a trance. All of the blood seems to drain from my body at once, leaving me cold, then recirculates under the frantic pounding of my heart. It heats up every inch of my skin until it’s so sensitive it’s as if I’m on fire.
I have to say something, or else I’ll attack her and tear off her clothes and I’m not sure if that would be entirely welcomed. “So, engaged. To a cop, huh?” I run my hand across the back of my neck nervously.
El blushes a deep scarlet and goes to twist her ring around, then drops her hands uselessly when she remembers it’s not there. Wait, it’s not there. Ellie acts as if she’s embarrassed to have me know that her fiancé exists. “Yeah, he, uh, he saved me once. It was a bad time for me.” She frowns immediately, unhappy that she revealed so much.
Saved her? Bad time?
“What’s that?” I shift closer so I can see her face. She didn’t say she loved him, she said he saved her. There’s a distinct difference, I’m not sure she knows that she said it that way. “How did he save you? Are you okay?” My brows pull together in concern. If someone tried to hurt my Ellie, I’ll kill them.
“I’m fine, Adam.” She brushes a stray lock of hair back from her eyes, still avoiding my stare.
“Tell me, El. You’re lying. I know it. What happened?” I reach out hesitantly, but find the courage to gently take her chin and pull it up so I can see her face.
Her lips quiver slightly, her tiny frame shaking. “My flat was broken into, twice. I came home the second time and he… well, let’s just say that a neighbor called the police and James responded to the call in time to stop him from really hurting me.”
“What?” I shout, dropping my hand from her face and digging my fingers into the edge of the sofa cushion so I won’t stand up and start throwing shit around the room in anger.
Ellie holds her hands up to calm me down, not that it’s working. “It’s over Adam. The guy went to prison and I have a restraining order and everything, plus James is so huge …” she shrugs like that explains everything.
“The same guy broke into your flat twice? And attacked you? What the hell, Ellie!” I’m so upset that the edges of my vision are turning red and hazy. That old feeling is coming back, the one that reminds me that I am indeed my father’s son. It washes over me in a veil of uncontrollable fury.
“Adam! Callum was locked up for it, so he’s…”
“Callum? Callum Murray?” I bellow. My voice is now so loud that Ellie is shrinking back in fear. I jump up from the sofa and pace around the coffee table, clenching my fists into tight balls. “He’s tried to get to you twice, and succeeded once?” I say incredulously. “What did that fucker do, tell me El.” I drop to my knees in front of the sofa and take her face in my hands.
“I didn’t mean for you to know, Adam. I’m sorry.” Her voice is unsteady, she’s clearly on the verge of tears. I take her hands in mine, bringing them up to press small kisses to them. My thumbs make small circles on her wrists. I feel something odd on one of them. A small ridge that wasn’t there before.
She tries to pull back but I hold her wrist out so I can look at it. Ellie scowls when I refuse to release her. What I see makes me gasp. There it is, noticeable enough to see if you’re looking for it, a jagged white scar across her left wrist.
“My God, El. Why? I can’t believe he would… I-I don’t know what to say.” I’ve been sending that bastard brother of mine money all these years, specifically to keep Murray and his friends away from Ellie and he fucking did nothing! My girl was almost killed because of his incompetence. It’s his fault she’s with the cop. She doesn’t love him, but she’s too afraid to be without him. She’s indebted to him.
I get up from my knees and drop heavily on the sofa next to her, watching her through my wet eyes. I’m afraid if I say anything else, I’ll lose what little control I have left over my fragile emotions.