Page 12 of Searching for Hope

“Consider this my notice,” I say. “I will no longer be a hindrance to you. I won’t be a distraction or get in your way because I won’t be here.” He reaches for me, but I jerk back. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” I press the elevator button impatiently.

“Berkley, if you’d listen for a moment.”

But I don’t want to listen. I’ve had enough, my emotions have been torn ragged by the hot and cold vibes he’s been giving me since the moment I laid eyes on him. He can do whatever he wishes with the monster that is my father. I simply don’t care.

The elevator arrives and I walk in, turning around to cross my arms as I glare at Jericho whose hands are braced either side of the open doors.

“Berkley, don’t go.” For a moment, I think I see honesty in his eyes, but it’s too little too late.

“Goodbye, Mr Priest,” I say with an eye-roll as the doors slide shut.

It doesn’t hit until the elevator starts descending. And then my heart starts to beat faster. My hands go clammy. I rub them down my jeans as my stomach starts to twist, muttering, “no, no, no,” under my breath. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply as the flashes begin to overwhelm me.

I’m standing naked, my arms stretched above, bound by an invisible cord. There’s a strip of material wrapped around my mouth, between my teeth. My breathing is labored and heavy. It sounds loud in my head, unable to escape because of the gag.

My knees buckle, sending me sliding down the wall of the elevator to sit hunched in the corner. My stomach heaves with each inch the elevator drops.

“Shhh.” Jericho stands before me, a finger pressed to his lips. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe.” He lifts the finger from his mouth and runs it down my arm. My entire body shudders under his touch.

I lift my eyes to see the numbers descending. I know I’m going to reach the ground floor soon, so I force myself back to my feet.

Jericho’s touch reaches my shoulder and he grips my chin. “Are you ready?” he asks. I nod and then he starts to trail kisses down my neck, between the swells of my breasts, down my torso. I let out a low muffled moan and Jericho chuckles.

“First,” I say, forcing myself to assume first position. “Second, third, fourth, fifth.” The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Rearranging my features, I try to act normal, as though I wasn’t just cowering on the floor. Stepping out into the foyer of the hotel, I look out the front window and see Michael leaning against his car, looking at his phone. A cigarette is perched in his other hand, the smoke lazily swirling into the air.

“Berkley,” Jericho appears before me. His cheeks are flushed, and his breathing is heavier. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m meeting someone.” I nod in the direction of where Michael is waiting.

Jericho turns sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Who is he?”

“Someone from my past. Someone who might actually be able to help, unlike me.”

I start to walk away but Jericho grabs my arm. “I’ll come with you.”

“Thank you.” I jerk out of his grasp. “But I’ll be fine.”

Michael, having looked up from his phone, sees me through the window and waves. He hasn’t changed much over the last few years. He still wears his blond hair in the same controlled mess of a style, longer on top with a few gelled curls, and short around the sides. He’s lost some of the chubbiness of youth and the angles of his face are more defined. His jawline is dusted in stubble, something he would have never been allowed at school. But his smile is exactly the same. Open, wide, and molded with a certain set of arrogance that only the wealthy and self-centered can pull off. Even though he’s dressed simply in jeans, a shirt and a vest, he still manages to ooze privilege.

“Everly!” He holds his arms wide as I duck in for an embrace. He squeezes tight and then holds me at arm’s length. “My god, you’re fucking stunning.” He pulls me in for another hug before letting go and grabbing my bag. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.”

“I can’t believe you’re still smoking?” I nod to where he tossed his cigarette butt away.

He winks. “Gotta die of something.” Looking behind me, he sees Jericho and like the well-trained boy—man, he is, Michael plasters on another smile and extends his hand. “Michael Gorman.”

Jericho shakes his hand, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Jericho Priest.”

Michael’s eyes dart between us before resting on Jericho again. “You must be Everly’s boss? She told me you had her in the city for the day though she never actually explained what it was she did for you.”

I try to usher Michael away but he stands firm. “There’s no need to get into any of that. We can talk all we want once we get out of here. Mr Priest has a very busy day, I’m sure.” I give him a pointed look.

“Not really,” he says, his face deadpan. “I had hoped I might be able to show Everly,” he exaggerates the pronunciation of my name, “some of the sights of the city, but I see her attention has been pulled elsewhere.”

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” Michael offers, pulling off the impression of a gracious host.

“No, no.” I physically drag him away by looping my arm through his. “I’m sure Mr Priest has a lot to keep him entertained, and besides, he said I could have a few hours off.”

“Well, in that case, I’m happy to be the one to entertain you.” He opens the door to his car. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady.” He bows deeply.

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