Stay With Dangerous Man

The cold marble floor inside the Ames Building, one of the historic landmarks in downtown Boston, no longer felt luxurious beneath my feet. To me, every inch of this place felt like iron bars plated in gold. I stood before a massive floor to ceiling mirror, staring at a stranger wrapped in a white gown embroidered with pearl sequins.

“So beautiful. Edward will be very pleased,” Melissa’s voice, my stepmother’s, came from the doorway.

I turned, my eyes narrowing sharply. “He’s thirty years older than me, Mom. He’s the same age as Papa would have been. Do you really have no heart at all?”

Melissa walked closer, her fingers adorned with a large diamond ring as she roughly adjusted the collar of my dress. “A heart can’t pay your father’s debts at Bay State, Elena. Two weeks ago he died and left behind a mountain of bills. Edward is our only ticket to keeping a luxurious life on Beacon Hill. So put on your smile and walk to that altar in ten minutes.”

The door was locked from the outside. She had truly caged me like livestock waiting for slaughter.

I paced the spacious room. My breaths came short and tight, not only because the corset was pulled too tightly, but because of the dread pressing down on my chest. I was only twenty one. I did not want to spend the rest of my life serving an old man who had bought my life with money.

My gaze swept the room until it stopped at the wide open balcony. The humid Boston evening breeze drifted in, stirring the thin silk curtains. Outside, the city lights flickered toward the Charles River. That was the only way out.

“To hell with this dress,” I whispered.

I ran to the bed, yanking off the satin sheets, the blankets, even the decorative fabric from the corner of the room. With trembling hands, I tied the ends together in tight, solid knots. I wrapped one end around the heavy bedpost, then tossed the bundled fabric over the balcony railing.

I climbed onto the balcony rail. The drop was about four meters. Risky, but better broken bones than sharing a bed with Edward. Just as my feet dangled in the air, the bedroom door was slammed open.

“Elena! What are you doing?!” Melissa screamed hysterically.

I did not answer. I released my grip and slid down. My palms burned from the friction, and my body slammed hard into the grass below. Pain pulsed through my ankle, but adrenaline drove my heart forward.

“She ran! Chase her! Zane, go after Elena!” Melissa shouted from the balcony above.

I scrambled to my feet, grabbed the long, heavy tail of my gown, and ran as fast as I could toward Washington Street. I did not care about the high heels left behind on the grass. I ran barefoot, ignoring the sharp gravel cutting into my skin.

“There! That’s her!”

A man’s shout came from the side gate. It was Zane, Edward’s right hand.

A two meter tall iron fence loomed ahead. Without thinking, I climbed it. My wedding dress snagged on the pointed tip, tearing a large rip along the hem, but I managed to jump down onto the sidewalk outside the building.

I kept running, disappearing into the darkness of the narrow alleys around Tremont Street. My lungs burned. The heavy thud of boots behind me told me they were not giving up.

I turned into a dead end alley, lit only by a single flickering streetlamp, and froze.

In front of me lay a brutal sight. Three large men were sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain. Standing among them was a man.

He was a stark contrast to the luxury I had just escaped. He wore a worn black leather jacket, a white tank top stained with blood, and black jeans ripped at the knees. His arms were covered in dark, intricate tattoos that extended to the backs of his hands. A small earring glinted in his right ear, and a thin silver chain rested against his neck.

The evening streetlight illuminated his face. There was a gash at his temple and a smear of blood at the corner of his mouth, yet he did not look hurt. He looked calm.

He turned when he heard my ragged breathing. His sharp eyes swept over me from head to toe. He frowned, clearly confused by the sight of a woman in a torn, filthy wedding dress standing in a grimy alley.

“Please…” My voice broke. “Please help me.”

The man was silent for a moment, wiping the blood from his lips with the back of his hand. “Who are you?” His voice was low and rough.

“My name is Elena. Please, someone is chasing me. They want to take me away.” I stepped closer, tears spilling freely down my cheeks. “I beg you. Take me away from here.”

“Don’t get involved in other people’s business, miss. I’m busy,” he said coldly as he walked toward a Jeep parked at the corner of the alley.

“I’ll give you anything. Anything you want. Please, help me!” I shouted desperately.

A gunshot shattered the darkening evening, striking a metal barrel near us. I screamed and crouched, covering my ears.

Edward appeared at the end of the alley, a pistol clutched in his trembling hand, shaking with rage. Beside him, Zane and two other men stared at me with threatening eyes.

“Elena! Come back here right now!” Edward roared. “Or I’ll make sure there’s nothing left of your family!”

The man in the leather jacket glanced at Edward, then looked back at me as I shook in terror. His eyes caught the bruises on my arm from Melissa’s grip earlier, and my bleeding feet from running barefoot. Something in his gaze shifted.

“Anything you’ll give me?” he asked.

“Yes. Anything. Please help me.”

Without another word, he grabbed my wrist and yanked me up. “Run.”

We sprinted toward the Jeep parked just behind the alley. But this long dress was a curse. I tripped over the hem and nearly fell onto the rough asphalt.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

Suddenly, my body lifted off the ground. He scooped me up effortlessly, as if I weighed nothing. My head rested against his solid chest. I caught the scent of cigarettes, sweat, and sharp masculine cologne. For the first time in my life, I felt protected within arms covered in tattoos.

He tossed me into the front passenger seat and jumped behind the wheel.

Edward ran after us, his face flushed red. He raised his pistol again, aiming straight at the windshield, straight at my head.

The man beside me gave a small grin as he shifted gears. He glanced at me just before slamming his foot down on the gas.

“Hold on tight, little bride.”

Edward pulled the trigger again. “Let go of my bride, bastard!”

The windshield cracked, but we were already surging forward.

“You know my name, now I should know yours,” I asked, my voice trembling as the car burst out of the alley.

The man shot me a brief glance, his tattooed hands steady on the wheel. “Felix. The man you just hired with a promise of ‘anything,’ Elena.”