Page 9 of Broken Princess

Now that, I actually believe.

As soon as I hang up, I open my laptop on the counter and pull up the open tab of plane tickets. I'm probably better off selling my car at the nearest dealership and going by air, anyway, since it would be easy for Dad to track me by car. I've heard Vegas is decently affordable right now, and it's certainly crowded enough that I shouldn't have too hard of a time blending in. It's also not like I would be the most interesting person there by any stretch of the imagination.

Here's hoping what happens in Vegas really does stay there.

CHAPTER 5

AMELIA

One Week Later

It's officially been a week since I landed in Vegas, and it still doesn't feel real. I can't believe I'm actually doing this.

I've been staying at a small but decent extended-stay hotel, and I’ve already gotten a lead on a couple of apartments that look promising. While I've pretty much been taking the time to regroup and give myself a moment to breathe, I also figured out a job I can do online for the foreseeable future, so I'm not too worried about what will happen when my savings eventually runs out.

Selling my car has helped, of course. I'll have to get a new one eventually, but public transit is decent enough, and I don't have to worry about getting to and from work anymore, so I'm not too stressed about it.

To say I have my shit together is probably a bit of an overstatement, but I am definitely the closest to it that I have been. In a way, I kind of wish I had more practical matters to worry about, because it would take my mind off of… everything else.

It didn't take all that long for Dad to notice my absence. Four days, which is still longer than I would have thought.

I shouldn't be bothered by that. I should be relieved, but…

Long before I officially left for Vegas, I ditched my phone, since I wouldn't be surprised if Dad found a way to track it. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Lorenzo managed, for that matter.

So far, though, despite my tendency to be paranoid about every person who seems like they might be following a little too close on my way to the market, I haven't run into any trouble.

Fingers crossed.

Only Anthony has my new number, and I know he wouldn't rat me out, so when the phone rings, I don't think much of it and answer without checking the caller ID. I regret it immediately as soon as I hear a painfully familiar voice on the other end of the line.

"Amelia?"

All he has to do is say my name and my heart aches like it still belongs to him. I steel myself against my heart's initial response, for all the good I know it will do me.

This isn't fair. It just… isn't.

"Lorenzo?" I ask through my teeth. "How the hell did you get this number?"

"I have my ways," he says in his usual smartass tone.

I am so not in the mood for it. "I know Anthony didn't give it to you," I snap.

"You're right. He didn't," he answers. "Not willingly, but there are other methods of getting that kind of information."

I stare at the phone in horror. "What did you do to him? I swear to God, Lorenzo, if you—"

He scoffs. "Relax, I'm not talking about hurting him. I swiped his phone while he was in the gym. More to the point, where the hell are you, and what do you think you're doing?"

Rage burns through me like a searing fire poker, because only he would be entitled enough to think he has the right to know the answer to that question.

"Fuck you, that's where."

He just sighs in exasperation, as if he's the one that has any legitimate reason to feel that. "Look, I don't know whether it's your father you're trying to get at, me, or both, but you've made your point and it's time to come home now."

"If you think that, then clearly you haven't gotten the point at all," I counter. "Believe it or not, this isn't about you."

"You're right, I don't believe it," he says, because he just can't help being a complete asshole. "I don't believe this has nothing to do with why you walked out of the party the other night."

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