Freed by You (4 page)

“Actually, Mr Olsen, I have half an hour to spare if anyone would like to ask me any questions?” he offered, raising his perfect brows as he maintained eye contact with me.

Mr Olsen declined, stating that he must have much more important business to attend to, but Mr Scott insisted, and so he stayed.

The females in the room were the first to the front, all fingering their hair and pouting their lips, eager for Julian Scott to notice them. It was actually quite depressing to watch as they each left their composure behind them as desperation took over. I hovered by the back of the room, mindlessly scribbling pointless notes in my work pad.

“Hey, babes. What’s up?” Adrian’s voice startled me out of my daydream.

“Hey, you!” I replied, nudging him gently with my shoulder. “Nothing’s up, I’m just worn out that’s all. How are things with you?” I asked, greeting him with a wide smile that came straight from my heart.

Adrian was the kindest man I had ever known. He was thoughtful and caring and had looked after me and took my side in every debate since we started classes here. We had both felt a connection to one another from the first day we met and we had been good friends ever since. He was a big guy, all muscles and abs as a result of his regular gym visits. He often tried his best to persuade me to accompany him to these sessions, of which I always declined. I had never been interested in workout sessions; I preferred a few light exercises in the comfort of my own home – usually with Maia assisting me.

I relaxed in Adrian’s presence. He made me feel safe, partly due to his size, I suppose. I knew he’d always defend me if the occasion arose and that thought comforted me.

As I chatted to Adrian, I fixed my eyes on the beauty at the front of the room. He appeared irritated, impatient as his finger and thumb rubbed at his eyebrows as if to disguise his frown. He regularly glanced in my direction before tearing his eyes away to focus on whichever bimbo was talking to him now.

Twenty minutes had passed since the end of his speech
. Ten
more minutes
, I thought, again feeling that familiar sting of disappointment but unsure as to why. Ten more minutes and I could carry on with my usual learning strategies without his unnerving presence.

Adrian shuffled away from me, eager to speak to Mr Scott himself. I watched him move towards the front of the room where Mr Scott still stood, glancing again in my direction. I watched as Mr Scott exchanged pleasantries and excused himself from the ever-eager Jennifer and my mouth dropped open as he confidently strode right past Adrian and headed straight for me, his eyes fixed on mine. I quickly tried to compose myself and snapped my mouth shut.

“Hi. Miss Braxton, isn’t it? I believe we met last night.”

“Yes, unfortunately we did,” I replied, looking down at my dirtied walking boots.
Why
didn't I wear Samantha’s heels this morning?

“Unfortunately, you say? I would have said the pleasure was more fortunate.” His voice rose at the end of his remark, making it sound more like a question than a statement.

“Well, that’s because you didn’t make a complete fool of yourself in front of your new boss!” I smirked.

“And you think you did?”

“Well, yes. I think it’s safe to say I did.”

“I think it’s safe to say that that wasn’t your fault, I take full responsibility. But I would strongly disagree with your first comment and say that it was definitely fortunate that I flew through the door when I did.”

I felt my brows tighten as I tried to figure out what
that
comment was supposed to mean. I couldn’t.

“And, how was that fortunate, exactly?”

“Well, otherwise I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of saving you,” he whispered as he leaned in closely towards my face, too closely, actually.

I blushed under his heated gaze. I did not expect that, at all.
What was with this guy?
He had seemed so pissed at me last night yet now, apparently, it was a good thing he had nearly took my head off.

“Besides, Ryan is your boss, I own the club but he runs it.” He moved away slightly, leaving a more appropriate distance between us and I desperately tried to mask my heavy breaths. As he straightened himself, he changed the subject. “So, you don’t have any questions for me, Miss Braxton?” he asked, his eyes searching my blushing face, looking almost disappointed.

“Just the one, if you don’t mind me asking?” I peeked up from under my thick lashes, not daring to fully meet his gaze and unsure whether my sudden burst of courage was going to last long enough for me to speak my question.

“I most certainly do not mind, Miss Braxton.”

I lowered my head, trying to encourage my hair forward in order to hide behind it. And, with my heart pounding inside my chest, I took a deep breath. “Why were you so pissed at me last night?”

His intense stare unsettled me. His eyes narrowed momentarily before his frown returned and his nostrils appeared to flare slightly as he inhaled a long breath. Then, he abruptly spun around and walked away, leaving me hanging.

I watched from across the room as he took Mr Olsen’s hand in a firm shake and exited the room without glancing back.

I lay in bed later that evening, my head heavily occupied with thoughts of Julian Scott. I replayed our two brief encounters over and over, trying to figure out where and when everything went so wrong. I couldn’t.
What had
I done to upset him so much?
Had I done anything at all, or was I submissively taking blame for something I had no control over? Maybe he was always that cold and rude towards people?

His words continued to resound in my head:
‘Otherwise I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of saving you.’
What did that mean? Maybe there was a small part of him that didn’t hate me. Although I doubted that after the way he stormed out when I plucked up the courage to ask him my one and only question.

‘Otherwise I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of saving you
.’ Why had that been a pleasure? It seemed considerably more like an inconvenience to him, if my memory served me correctly. Maybe he had felt the same electricity as I had when our bodies were pressed against one another’s? Or, more than likely, he was just glad he didn’t actually knock me down, after all, how would he explain a dead body slumped at the bottom of his stairs? I couldn’t find a single answer to the questions that refused to leave my overcrowded brain. This bothered me a lot. The
new
stronger me had sworn to never be under a man’s grip ever again. I liked to keep the control of my own emotions in my own corner, always keeping a tight grip on them. I wouldn’t allow myself to fall in love, or to grow close to a man ever again, at least not while Maia was so dependent. I had vowed to myself that I would never let another man into our lives, she was all I needed and I her. My barriers remained high and I refused to let anybody through them, so why was Julian Scott having such an uncontrollable effect on my emotions?

I had bumped into him only twice – once quite literally – and yet it was if his moods and emotions had some kind of hold over me. Why had I felt so tensed and strangely uneasy today as I watched him cringe under Jennifer’s heated gaze? It was as if it deeply bothered me to see him so obviously uncomfortable.
Why did I care?
I didn’t know him and I didn’t particularly want to either. Or so I told myself.

There was a gentle knock on my bedroom door.

“Come in,” I mumbled. My voice sounded husky and thick with sleep.

As I squinted into the light I saw a dark figure standing beside my bed. I blinked rapidly as I attempted to force my eyes to adjust to their sudden awareness.

Before I could react he was clambering on top of me, his crushing weight pinning me to the mattress beneath me. I thrashed my legs out, trying desperately to escape my intruder but I couldn’t move, his heavy legs wrapped tightly around mine and held them in place while his elbows pierced into my soft biceps. I could hear the blood pulsing through my head, behind my eyes and thrumming loudly in my ears as I tried to make sense of what was happening. I couldn’t. Then the light was gone and I was surrounded by darkness, a pitch black that I knew no way out of.

As his overbearing weight crushed my chest I struggled to fill my lungs with the air they so desperately craved. I thrashed my head powerfully from side to side as his wet mouth searched for mine, his tongue jabbing out violently each time he gained his contact. His heavy panting breaths attacked my entire face in waves of warm moisture, suffocating me as I gasped for clean air. I opened my mouth to scream for Samantha but this only invited him in further as he drowned my screams with his mouth, almost choking me with his tongue as it rammed against the back of my throat. I could smell warmed lager on his breath, I could taste it. I shuddered as loud, echoing heaves escaped my chest as I struggled to fight against the bile that was rapidly rising in my throat.

Then I noticed light again, a bright light above me. I felt my body turn limp as I gave up my protest, my muscles unable to push against his sheer strength any longer, and I let the tremors course through me.

“Head for the light, baby girl. Head for the light!” I heard through the pounding in my head. It was a female’s voice, where was it coming from? “Follow the light.” Now the voice was soothing, familiar.

I gasped aloud as I bolted upright on my bed, my eyes searching for the danger.

“It’s just me, it’s okay. You were having another nightmare,” Samantha soothed. I threw my trembling hands over my face and rubbed aggressively as a loud sob echoed around my small room. “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe now, I’m here.” Samantha wrapped her arms around my shoulders and rocked me back and forth, the way a mother would cradle her child, as I sobbed hopelessly.

I rolled over and looked at the clock as I awoke the following morning; 10.13am
. Shit,
Maia!
I bolted out of bed and raced down the stairs as a heavy feeling of dread coursed through me.

“Maia!” I flew the door open, leading into the front room and found Maia snuggled into Samantha’s arms, giggling at the TV.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Sorry, I didn’t mean to panic you; I wanted to let you sleep,” Samantha explained. I slumped onto the sofa beside Maia and patted my lap for her to join me.

“No, it’s fine. Please, don’t apologise. Thank you, you really are amazing, do you know that?” I smiled appreciatively at Samantha as I pulled my fingers through Maia’s hair.

“I know,” she mused. “Do you want tea?”

“Oh, yes please.”

She was my saviour. I adored Samantha. I wondered briefly where my life would be now if she hadn’t taken me in when I was eighteen. Probably somewhere very dark and very miserable and that was a place I never intended to visit again. With no mother to guide me through my teenage years, I completely lost all sense of direction for a while. I was in with
the wrong crowd
, as my father repeatedly warned me. But, I regrettably ignored his warnings and sure enough landed myself in the sort of trouble I could never have even imagined. Samantha picked up the pieces of my broken shell and practically nursed me back to life again and she had never left my side since.

The three of us spent the day together watching DVDs under a duvet on the sofa. This was Maia’s favourite thing to do on a Saturday. She loved Samantha as much as she loved me, I assumed, so she loved nothing more than the three of us spending time together – as a family. Samantha told me all about her lunch date with Michael; she was seeing him again tomorrow evening as I was home with Maia. I filled her in with the details of yesterday’s encounter with Mr
‘I’ve got a serious personality disorder’
. She found his mood swings just as quizzical as I did.

At 7.30pm, I kissed Maia good night and set off on my way to work. I wondered briefly if Ryan had caught the bastard that assaulted Suzie on Thursday, I would be sure to ask when I arrived. I was confident that I wouldn’t be bumping into Mr Scott tonight, literally or otherwise, as Ryan had said he rarely visits his own club. I felt more confident now that my first night was over with and I found myself actually looking forward to work tonight.

Samantha had pinned my waves up tightly at the back of my head with no tendrils daring to escape – yet! With my hair back off my face, I felt stronger somehow, like I had nothing to hide my regularly flushing cheeks behind and therefore had to deal with people head on, with as much eye contact as I could manage. The style looked elegant and sophisticated and exaggerated my defined cheek bones. Wearing more make up than usual, I felt good; another first for me.

Ryan had approached me as soon as I had arrived.

“You’re looking lovely, Miss Braxton,” he had told me. Of course, I had blushed deeply and looked down at Samantha’s boots, unable to cling onto my new found confidence when receiving a direct compliment. I had never been good at that. Compliments embarrassed me greatly; I simply did not know how to accept them.

Ryan had carried on praising me when he informed me of how they had identified the man in the CCTV image from Thursday and he had been taken off their guest list and reported to the police. Now it was up to Suzie if she wished to press charges, which I silently prayed that she would. He told me how he had informed Mr Scott of the incident and he had come in to see the images himself and recognised him instantly as a regular visitor. He had then looked up his address from their members’ files and paid him a visit personally, thus insuring he wouldn’t show his face here again. I’m not sure why this piece of information surprised me but it did. I suppose I hadn’t pictured Mr Scott with a compassionate side. Maybe he had one after all. Or maybe he was a genuinely nice guy and it was just me who he wasn’t fond of!

As the balls of my feet began to burn unbearably, I glanced up from the lemons that I was preparing to see the illuminated clock on the wall ahead of me, 11.37pm
. Great
, I still had roughly two hours of standing to go, I wondered if my feet would survive or if they would possibly spontaneously combust. As I stared into space, picturing the ridiculous scene if this were actually to happen, I noticed two people sitting in one of the booths slightly to the left of me. Both of them I thought I recognised, although from this distance I couldn’t be sure. If my eyes were serving me correctly I would say that one was Natalie – which was quite possible as she hadn’t been behind the bar for the past hour – and the other, Julian Scott. My stomach knotted, much to my surprise, at the thought of his name. I shook my head slightly, as if to be rid of my petulant thoughts, and returned my attention to the selection of fresh lemons that I
had
been in the process of slicing.