Page 17 of Kinks of a Billionaire
At that moment, I realized I’d made the biggest mistake of all, but it was too late. The next blow to my face had me seeing stars. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Stuart’s leather loafercoming toward me, and I instinctively curled over to protect my stomach. His foot slammed into my back, knocking the air out of me.
Stuart’s shoe connected with my back again and I bit my tongue to swallow my scream. He was in a blind rage. This was it, I thought. I was going to die. Another punch came in, this one hitting my skull, and then another.
A metallic taste flooded my mouth, but I didn’t let out a sound. I lay there in the fetal position, my head pounding like a jackhammer, my limbs aching.
It wasn’t until I heard the heavy slam of the hotel door that I realized Stuart was gone.
The need to remain still and wait for the pain to disappear was great, but the fear of Stuart coming back was far greater.
With shaky fingers, I reached for the couch’s footrest and pulled myself up. I didn’t know how I managed to stand, but I did. I snatched Stuart’s discarded trench coat from the bed, wrapped it around myself, and slowly made my way out of his hotel room.
Pain exploded in my joints and my face throbbed like every bone in my cheek was fractured, but I ignored it all as I struggled to see out of my swollen eye.
The elevator was on the opposite side of the hallway, so I took the stairs by his room despite the ache shooting through me with each step.
Logically, I knew a hospital or my parents were the reasonable choices, but I’d rather die than explain this to anyone.
I didn’t know how long it took me to exit the hotel or how long I walked, but my legs felt unsteady and the pain was becoming even more excruciating, if that were possible.
Finally, a man with gray hair and dark eyes stopped me, a look of compassion on his face.
“Should I call the police?”
“No… Not th-the p-police,” I blurted out through swollen lips.
I kept moving, ignoring the man shouting behind me. Suddenly a car came to a stop, right along with my heart.
The door opened and I blinked several times, fighting to clear my blurry vision. The man didn’t look familiar, but that could’ve been my injuries causing confusion.
“Miss, take the taxi. I pay.” I managed to turn in the direction of the voice, finding the same older man watching me with dark eyes.
He took me gently by my elbow and guided me into the cab, then in fluent Portuguese, he instructed the driver to take me wherever I wanted, handing him a stack of bills.
My eyes burned at his kindness, the first hot tear rolling down my face, stinging in its wake.
“Thank you,” I croaked.
“Take care of yourself,” he said, placing something in my palm. “If you need help, this is my card.”
The door shut and the taxi started moving, and I finally looked and caught the driver watching me through the rearview mirror.
“Where to, miss?”
I blurted the address in Portuguese, my tongue heavy in my mouth. Thankfully, he seemed to understand me.
I fell back against the leather seat, fighting the urge to close my eyes and drift asleep. I just needed to get to the only person I trusted to keep this a secret and keep me safe.
My chest clenched at the knowledge that I could have avoided this from the get-go. Instead, I was a stupid woman who convinced herself this was her best chance at a happy future, despite all the warnings and red flags.
“We’re here, miss,” the driver said, his voice sounding tinny and distant.
The car stopped, and I lifted my head, sighing in relief. I was met by old stone walls and a black metal gate. Royce’s home in Lisbon.
The driver exited and rounded the car to open my door. I wrenched my feet onto the cobblestone, using the door to keep me steady. It took every ounce of strength I had to take those few steps to the gate without doubling over in pain.
Just as I lost my footing and began to topple over, a set of strong, warm arms caught me mid–free fall.
“Willow?” Royce stared down at me, fury and outrage lacing his features. “Who did this to you?” he gritted. “Fucking who?”
