Page 70 of Cinderella and the Daddy
When the worst of it passes, I rest my forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet and place one hand on my still-flat stomach.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to the tiny life growing there. "I know this is all crazy and dangerous and completely insane. But I promise you something—I'll keep you safe. Whatever it takes, whoever I have to fight or run from or lie to, I'll keep you safe."
The words feel like a vow, binding and absolute. Because that's what this is really about, isn't it? Not just my own survival anymore, but the protection of someone who can't protect themselves. Someone who didn't ask to be created in the middle of this violent, complicated world.
I splash cold water on my face and look at myself in the bathroom mirror. For a moment, I see the ghost of who I used to be—the woman who lived here, who worked on cars and minded her own business and never imagined she'd fall in love with her kidnapper.
But then I lift my chin and straighten my spine. This is who I am now. Not a victim and not a pawn.
Turns out, getting kidnapped may have been the best thing to happen to me.
I leave the duffel by the door and look around. Is there anything else I want to take? I don’t see myself ever coming back here. This is my old life.
I pick up the picture of me and my mom and add it to the bag.
A loud knock at the door makes me jump.
I stare at the door. Who knows I’m here? Anna? Drew? Are they tracking me again?
"Open the door, baby."
Luka.
He found me.
And judging by his tone, I’m in trouble.
I guess I am still being guarded.
I could pretend I'm not here and sneak out the fire escape.
And if I know Luka, there will be men out there waiting for me.
Oh shit.
He thinks I ran.
I quickly move to open the door and pull it open.
"How did you find me?" I ask, forcing a smile.
I hope to play it off.
One look at his face tells me everything. The fury radiating off him is like a physical force, making the air in the small apartment feel thick and dangerous. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle ticking beneath his skin. And his eyes—God, his eyes are like chips of ice.
He pushes past me into the apartment, gun drawn and ready. I stumble backward as he moves through the space like a predator hunting prey.
"Who else is here?" His voice is deadly quiet as he checks the bedroom, then the bathroom, weapon trained and ready to fire.
"No one!" I snap, my own anger flaring to life. "What the hell, Luka?"
He emerges from the bathroom, gun still out, and fixes those cold eyes on me. "Empty your bag."
"Excuse me?"
"The bag. Empty it. Now."
I stare at him in disbelief. "Are you serious right now?"
