Free Dark Mysteries by Jessica Gadziala Page A

very
reason. She knew she would end up hugging the walls and feeling
utterly alone.
    “You
look like you'd rather be anywhere but here,” a voice had said
behind her, making her jump and slosh the alcohol all over her
clothes.
    She
turned to see him. Tall, dark, handsome. Cool, confident. All the
ridiculous stereotypes that women have been known to go gaga for
since the beginning of modern civilization. And he was talking to
her. Of all people.
    “Here,”
he said, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out an actual
pocket square. “May I?” he asked, holding it up, waiting
for her response.
    She
had fallen hard and fast. Before she had any idea what he was really
like. What he did for a living. And how he conducted that business.
She had moved in before she even started her fist college classes.
    It
hadn't started for a while. There were five blissful months of lazy,
albeit unsatisfying, lovemaking, afternoon picnics, random gifts on
the bedside table in the morning, and enough compliments to build up
her fragile ego. She had called her friends and boasted about how
lucky she was. How she was living a romance novel. How men like him
were too good to be true.
    It
turned out she was all too correct.
    He
had taken her to a restaurant with a bunch of his business partners.
When he had asked her to step outside for a while right when the
entrees got to the table, she had quietly objected. He had turned
back to the table, his charming smile glued on his face and asked the
men to excuse them for a minute. He helped her out of her chair and
led her through to the back of the restaurant, his hand holding onto
her arm roughly enough to leave bruises.
    He
pushed her out of the back door, waiting for it to slam behind him,
locking them down a long, abandoned alley... and then he had turned
her to face him quickly, then shoved her hard, making her slam back
into the brick wall of the building next door.
    She
barely had a moment to register the pain before he was right in front
of her, pulling an arm across his body, and backhanding her across
her face.
    “You
stupid bitch,” he had yelled, making a bird perched on the
light post startle and fly away. “Don't you ever fucking
embarrass me like that again,” he said, his hand reaching out
and grabbing her throat.
    She
didn't fight. She didn't even argue. Just stared at him, wide-eyed,
too shocked to do anything but stand there, his hands tightening
around her throat.
    “When
I tell you to do something, you do it. No arguments. Do you
understand me?” he asked, his hand pressing harder into her
throat, making her make a gagging sound. “I asked you a fucking
question. Do. You. Understand?” Her breath was caught under his
punishing grip, making words impossible. She nodded her head slightly
and he quickly released her, moving to push his cuff links back into
place. “Now get yourself cleaned up and come back to that
table and do what you're told,” he said, swinging the door open
and storming back inside.
    Alone,
she fell back against the wall, slowly slinking down, hugging her
knees to her chest. She didn't cry. She sat there in stunned
numbness, her hands shaking, for a long few minutes before the door
opened again, making her yelp and straighten immediately.
    But
she didn't see him. She saw Bobby, one of his business partners. Or
friends. She wasn't quite sure what the connection was at the time.
All she knew was he was always around. Almost twenty-four hours a
day, he could be found within yelling distance of them. He looked
down at her, his eyes oddly empty, taking her in. “I'm supposed
to escort you to the bathroom to clean up,” he said.
    She
should have run. Made a dash down the alley. Hailed a cab. Went
straight home to her cop father and told him what had happened. She
should have done anything but what she did.
    She
stood up, nodded, and followed him back into the building. Inside the
bathroom, she carefully wiped the long gash on her face, courtesy of
the