THE MORTON QUADRUPLETS

CHAPTER 7 - ELLIE

I stare at Marcella in utter horror. I know it shows on my face because she is revelling in her accomplishment.

"Did you really think Greyson would whisk you off to Paris to talk?" She asks, her voice drips of sarcasm.

I close my eyes. I have been had.

"What do you want? I didn't contact Greyson, you set this up as punishment for what exactly?" I ask her with the most stable voice I can muster.

"It is not punishment Elrissa." She uses my full name as a way to appear formal. We are not familiar, we are not friends, we are not family. We are nothing and this is her way of making it clear to me that whatever this conversation is, is purely formality. She is informing me of something, my opinion is not needed.

"If not punishment, then what" There is a bite in my voice that I didn't intend to put there, but now that it is there, I am glad that it is.

"It is a warning." Her voice has gone ice cold. It is clear that she is only calling this a warning. It is indeed a threat.

"You will leave Greyson alone. He does not need to hear from you ever again. He has a bright political career ahead of him and he does not need to hide you as a little secret when he finally gets what he is working so hard for now." Her eyes are like daggers. They pierce me through my soul. I instinctively know the consequences should I not adhere to her threatening request. She will end my life. Nobody would even know it was her.

Marcella gets up from her bar chair. She did not touch her martini. She shifts it next to mine and turns to leave.

"Enjoy Paris." She whispers in my ear. "This one is on me." She smiles her fake smile and leaves.

I stay seated at the bar. The last two days playing out in my mind. The breakup. The box of gifts. The driver of the car that came to pick me up at my aunt's house. The flight. The next driver. Everything leading to this exact moment.

I am in a different country without a passport. Without a phone. Without any money.

I down the first martini in front of me. I am in so much trouble. The bartender removes the empty glass from the bar and turns back to his other patrons.

This is a momentary hurdle. I need to get back home. I have my law school chosen and everything to attend university has been set up already. I can build myself a fabulous life. I just need to get home. My mind runs through all my options over and over again. I really do not have a lot of options. Marcella left a key card next to the martini she slid over to me. It must be the room she booked for the night. I slide the key into my small clutch.

"Are you drinking to remember or are your drinking to forget?" an older man with a heavy French accent takes the stool Marcella left. "You are too beautiful to be drinking alone." He adds when I do not answer. I smile at him not knowing what to answer. He orders a drink and sits next to me in silence.

I sip on the second martini, trying to keep my thoughts together. My thoughts wander everywhere and I give up and drink the martini without caution.

He orders me another drink when I finish the martini.

"You are from around here." I state as I turn to him. He nods and takes another sip of his drink. He turns to me. "And you are not" he says in his heavy accent.

I smile at him. He looks like a pleasant person. His hair is neatly combed. The silver strands on his temples showing that he is a lot older than I am. I could very well be his daughter. He has friendly blue eyes and he is very well dressed. He holds himself with confidence. It is clear that he has money.

I take a sip of the drink he bought me. It is very strong but tastes divine. I take another few sips. It feels like the liquid seeps into all the holes in my chest, numbing the pain of the last two days. I smile at him and make light conversation. He is an interesting man. He tells me about his business a few blocks down the street. How he built it up from nothing. He could afford to buy an already profiting business but he chooses to start off with something horrible and turn it into something wonderful.

When my drink is finished, he orders me another. When I finish the third drink, I hold up my hand to the bartender indicating that I have had enough. I turn to thank him and he gently caresses my arm. It feels nice, his warm hand gently running up and down my arm. Comforting. I close my eyes for a second and smile. When I open my eyes, he returns a warm smile and removes his hand from my arm.

I take the key from my clutch and get up from my stool. I am a little unstable on my feet. He comes to stand next to me and takes the key from my hand. He looks at the card number and holds his arm so I can hook into his elbow. I take his arm and smile sweetly at him.

We start walking slowly to the stairs that lead to the hallway that takes us to my room. In front of the door, he looks at me with his friendly eyes.

"Thank you for bringing me to my room" I tell him while opening the door. He slides his hand around my waist and pulls me closer to him. "Are you sure you want to enter alone?"

No, I am not sure. I don't want to be alone in a foreign country. Even though I do not know this person he feels familiar and he feels soothing after the horrible two days I have had.

My head spins while I try to figure out what to answer him. Before I can find the right words, he places a kiss in my neck. My body responds to him in a welcoming manner although my head is a few steps behind. I moan softly and lean gently against him.

"Good girl." He whispers and opens the door to my room.

He closes the door behind us and I gasp as I look into his eyes. The pleasant man that talked to me all night is gone. The man standing in front of me has a hungry look in his eyes. My clutch drops to the floor as he takes a few steps towards me.

........

I wake up the next morning still half dressed in bed. I sit up to see where he is. The suite is empty. I get up and walk to the bathroom. I take a very hot shower and scrub my entire body. My whole body aches. I remember willingly letting the man into my room. I remember not wanting to be alone. I don't remember much else but I feel very dirty.

I run the shower as hot as I possibly can handle. I stand under the stream of hot water for a long time, my arms against the shower wall from my wrists to my elbows. Resting my head against my clasped hands, I let the water flow over my body, enjoying the strong stream of hot water drumming down on my shoulders and back, soothing away the aches in my muscles. I wash myself thoroughly with the small bottle of floral smelling shower gel the hotel stock the showers with. I wash until I feel clean and fresh. I wash my hair and scrub my scalp with my fingertips. I always did this when I had a bad headache or if I felt stressed. I can feel the tension leave my body.

When I get out of the shower and wrap myself in a fresh large fluffy towel, I realise that I only have the clothes I wore last night. I wasn't prepared to stay the night and I most certainly didn't think I would be left here alone. I pick the little black dress off the floor and put it on. The stockings and suspenders I drop into the trash bin in the bathroom. I do not feel like putting them on again. I pick my clutch up from the ground where I dropped it and turn to see if I am leaving anything behind in the suite before I leave. I take two slow steps toward the small dining table near the door entering the room.

My eyes widening at the horror of what is set on the table.