Against All Odds

Chapter Twenty

"You sure you're up for a flight?" Ida asks, clasping my face. I nod, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"We'll see each other soon. You'll come visit me?"

"Of course. I don't know where my job stands but I'll find a way. I think getting out of New York will be good for you."

"I'll send you a ticket when I find an apartment," I whisper, grimacing when she wraps her arms around me tightly.

"I'm sorry... that I ever accepted a thing from them. John probably wouldn't have- done anything..."

I shake my head, tearfully. "He would have no matter what. It's not your fault."

I try not to squirm, feeling Henry's gaze on my back from the other side of the room by the door. He doesn't trust Ida.

"I love you, baby... I'm sorry."

I swallow. "I love you too."

We hug and part. I wave at her as Henry shuts the door behind me.

...

After a stop at the hotel, where Ivan went up and retrieved all of my belongings and checked me out and a short drive to the airport, we're finally seated on the jet. Henry is directly across from me. There are papers, a ton of them, scattered over the table on the other corner of the plane. Work.

I look down as he glances at his watch.

"Go work, Henry," I whisper, with a weak smile. "I'll be fine on my own."

He looks down, clearly effected by my choice of wording but he stands, nodding.

"I only have a few things to get through."

"I'm fine," I reply, looking out the window, completely numb. Numb is better than hurt. Within seven hours, this jet will have landed in England, my new home. I will have to walk from this plane and from Henry, and start my new life. He will try to help me as much as he can but I don't want it.

I felt bitter before I became numb, and I know that feeling will surface soon. I feel like I'm being punished. I don't know why but everything in my life has managed to fall apart within a couple months. And it all started at the Royal Opera House, when a playboy prince entered my damn dressing room.

I lean my head against the window, staring out, wishing I could be in the pillow clouds outside. Wishing I could float away from everything and everyone that could ever hurt me and remain there in peace.

...

"Stop it," John growls, above me, still dressed in his coat. His shoes are still on. His pants are only low enough to expose himself. I can't seem to open my eyes, as much as I want to. My body is weak but responsive still.

I push my arms as hard as I can but his thick fingers just dig further, holding me in place. I'm imprisoned beneath him and with each thrust, I lose a little more of my breath, a little more of my will.

"Please," I beg, too exhausted to scream.

"You are mine, Mia. Mine," John says, incoherently. "You want to make this difficult. Well, here you go." He thrusts harder and I let out a weak noise of pain. "It's difficult."

There's a slow, thick liquid drifting down my forehead. Blood, from the blow that knocked me out earlier.

"Mine," he spits out, breathing heavily. I open my eyes, finally able to look at him and I see a monster. Not even the man who left me for dead in my apartment months ago, but an actual evil being. I don't know how I manage it, I smile.