Page 14 of Scar

“I was moaning in pleasure. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept in a comfy bed,” I tell her.

She sighs in relief. “Oh, thank god.” She turns the lights off, apart from the small bedside lights. I watch as she rummages around and places another fresh bottle of water on the table beside me, as well as a cereal bar, a protein bar, and some kind of sports energy replenishing drink. She then walks around to the other side of the bed and climbs into bed. After checking her phone, she picks up a huge bucket of popcorn and sets it down between us. “So, what do you want to watch?” she asks as she presses a button on the remote and a TV comes up from the bedframe. Before I can open my mouth, she answers for me. “Oh, I know,” she says as she selects a movie.

I look at the screen. “Beverly Hills Cop?” I ask, looking at her.

She smiles and nods, popping some popcorn into her mouth. “It’s one of my favourites, do you not like it?” she asks as she picks up the remote, ready to turn it off.

I place my hand over hers. “I like it,” I tell her, my eyes feeling heavy.

She must notice, for she quickly moves the popcorn and switches the last of the lights off, surrounding us in darkness, apart from the light from the movie. “Good night, Scar,” she whispers.

“Good night, my angel,” I say before yawning.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ELSIE

I feelwarmth at my back, and a heavy weight draped over me. Blinking a few times, I realise that it is Scar. As I look down at his hand wrapped around my waist, I sigh, feeling contented. I jolt when a slight feeling of panic creeps in. I quickly grab my phone and track my father’s and Layton’s cell. Still hours away, thank god. I sigh in relief. We may actually get to enjoy this weekend before he leaves. My main priority is to feed him, rebuild some of his strength. Carefully, I lift his arm and slink out of bed so not to disturb him. I turn to make sure he is still asleep, and he looks so peaceful. Smiling to myself, I creep out of the room to start making him breakfast.

Pancakes, bacon, hash browns, eggs, orange juice, coffee, syrup, French toast, and even waffles. I carefully carry the overloaded tray back up to my room, and as I push the door open with my foot, I walk in to see him still asleep. After placing the tray down on my dressing table, I walk to him.

“Scar,” I whisper, gently stroking his hair away from his face. “Scar,” I whisper again.

He groans, stretching his arms above his head, and it’s then that I notice he’s been drinking some of his water through the night.That’s good,I think to myself. He needs his strength backif he is to get out of here. I don’t think I could bare to see him suffer any longer.

He rubs his eyes, looking up at me with a soft sleepy smile playing across his lips. “Sit up. I brought you breakfast,” I tell him softly. He sits up and leans against the headboard, the cover slipping down to his waist revealing his bare torso. Even now, with the outline of his ribs and his collarbone showing, he’s still impressive.

“Looking at me like that, I’m beginning to think you are hungry for something else,” he quips, his voice deep and husky with sleep. I clear my throat and quickly avert my gaze, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment. Moving carefully, I grab the tray and place it on his lap. His eyes go wide. “You raid the local diner or something?” he asks.

I smile and tuck my hair behind my ear as I climb back into bed next to him. Reaching over, I snatch a strawberry off his plate of pancakes and take a bite, shrugging. “I cooked it. You need to eat and build up your strength, especially if you are to go home,” I add, my voice breaking at the last part, looking down at my lap.

Scar takes my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Say that again,” he demands softly.

I exhale a breath. I wasn’t going to tell him yet. I’d wanted to keep this time to just us, but truthfully, I’m delusional. My father could come back at any point. They could all return and he will be back down there in the basement, starving to death. I can’t risk that.

“Elsie, look at me,” he demands. My eyes connect with his, and I can’t help it. A tear escapes, trickling down my cheek, his eyes following its path.

“You need to go, you need to go home,” I tell him, removing his hand that still has hold of my chin, keeping his encased in mine, my thumb brushing over his calloused skin. “Youstay here, you will die, and I’m not okay having that on my conscience,” I tell him. Another traitorous tear escapes but I quickly swipe it away. Sniffing, I let out a little laugh. “I’ve grown to like you.” He opens his mouth to say something, but I shake my head. “Not like that,” I add quickly, lying to him and myself. “I don’t have many people to talk to.” I pause. “That’s a lie, I have no one to talk to.” I scoff. “But I can’t be selfish and keep you here, just because I like your company. That would make me no better than my father.”

Looking into his grey eyes, they shine with something I haven’t seen before, like they are lit up with flecks of silver. He surprises me by leaning forward, his hands cupping my face as he plants a chaste kiss on my lips. Smiling wide, like I’ve just told him he’s won the jackpot, my heart warms and breaks all at the same time. He leans back a little, the orange juice and the coffee wobbling on the tray from his movement. His smile falls as he drops his hands from my face.

“If I go, they will hunt me down. They will come for my club,” he states, shaking his head. “Fuck, I got so wrapped up in the thought that I could actually go home, I forgot the consequences if I actually did it.” He sighs as he sits back against the headboard. His gaze remains on mine before he picks up a bit of bacon and starts eating it.

“He won’t come looking for you,” I tell him. His curious gaze assesses me. “I...” I pause. “I haven’t thought it through properly, but you have my word. I will make sure that he won’t come for you or your club. I just need to figure out something that would deter him from doing that.” Scar goes to speak but I shake my head. “No. That doesn’t mean that we wait, and that doesn’t mean that you can’t go. Just leave and don’t look back,” I tell him.

“What about you?” he asks. “Your father ain’t going to believe for a second that I just got out all by myself without your help,” he points out.

I nod. “I thought of that. You need to hit me,” I tell him.

He lets out a laugh and shakes his head. “No. Fucking. Way,” he growls. “I have never laid a hand on a woman, and I ain’t about to start now,” he refuses firmly.

“It’s the only way that they will believe you got out. They are not going to believe a weak, malnourished man Houdinied his way out of the basement,” I point out.

Scar’s lips twitch. “Houdinied, huh? I kind of like that.” He smirks.

I shove his arm. “This is serious! You want to get out of here, and you need to get out of here or you will die. So suck it up and slap me,” I fume in frustration.

“I don’t hit women. The only time my palm is used to slap a woman is when she is bent over my knee, or when she is bent over and I’m balls fucking deep in her. Then and only then will the palm of my fucking hand slap a woman,” he growls. My cheeks heat and my heart beats so fast in my chest, I feel like it’s about to jump right out of my chest at the thought of him doing those things to me. I quickly look away so he can’t see just how much I like the sound of that.

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