Lost for Him [possessive billionaire romance updated Saturday and Sunday]

TWENTY-SIX

Ethan and I were allowed to stay in the room for a moment while I calmed down from my sudden panic attack. Ethan was like a rock, solid and unmoving, and I knew that I had nothing to worry about while he was with me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern in his eyes.

"I'll be okay," I smiled weakly. "Sorry, I don't know where that came from."

His arms tightened for a second in reassurance before he loosened them again. As he did this, Jefferson entered the room again.

"We have been able to contact your family, Miss. Staren," Jefferson started. "However we are finding it difficult to contact your family, Mr. Hunter, they are refusing to talk to us. Though I do believe that they are struggling to understand that their son, who they lost ten years ago, has come back. We can give you somewhere to stay while we try to contact them?"

Ethan's eyes met my own, and I knew what he was asking, demanding of me, but at the same time, he was letting me decide. Do we part or stay together? I already knew the answer.

"Ethan can come to my home while you try and contact his family," I stated.

Ethan's eyes gleamed with approval and Jefferson nodded as though I'd said exactly what he had expected me to say.

"All right," Jefferson agreed. "We have booked for you to stay at a nearby hotel for tonight, as it is getting late, and then we have contacted a taxi service to take you home tomorrow."

I nodded, even though it was more of a statement than an offer. Ethan didn't deny anything, which was an 'okay' in his book.

Jefferson lead the way out, and took us to a car outside that would take us to the hotel, he offered his goodbyes and mumbled something as he left us with the driver which made Ethan smirk.

"What did he say?" I asked as Ethan nudged me towards the open car door.

"I have given him a lot of work to do by coming back," Ethan grinned for a split second, amusement dancing on his face before he shut down a little, back to his usual for this world while surrounded by people. He seemed to think that giving anything away was a bad thing, that it would make people jump and attack us.

When we were both in the car, I asked: "What do you mean?"

"Paperwork," he replied. "Especially if they wrote me off as dead."

I flinched at that, at how casually he said it. Immediately, his arm wrapped around me and pulled me tighter to his side.

"I was gone for ten years, Morgan," he reminded me. "They had to give up at some point."

I felt like I had something stuck in my throat as my eyes burned with tears. How could you ever give up? I wondered, how could they have ever thought that they would never see him again?

We were quiet for the rest of the drive to the hotel, a tense sadness in the air. Of course, most of that was from me, Ethan seemed okay with the fact that they had given up on ever finding him. Of course, I understood why, they would have never found him where he was, my finding him was shock, but then, I hadn't been searching for him.

How many others have gone there? And not survived? I wondered. So many missing people who would have died in a such a primitive place rather than surrounded by people they loved and were loved by.

Jumping as our driver, who was also a police man, cursed in a mutter, I stretched my neck to see what was going on, and found vans and a large group of people standing around with cameras. Why were the media here? Was someone famous staying at the hotel?

"Hang on," our driver said. "I'll drive around back."

Around back?

"No," came from Ethan, making me jump. "Here."

"You sure?" the driver sounded worried.

"Ethan?" I called. What was going on? What did Ethan know that I didn't?

"Stay close," Ethan's words were ones that dared me to disobey. "Don't let go of me."

"I won't, but what's going on?"

Ethan smiled slightly before brushing his lips on my forehead. "Stay with me."

Then before I could say anything back, he was getting out of the car, and gesturing for me to take his hand. But I froze, because the moment Ethan got out of the car, the yelling and screaming started.

"Ethan! Ethan Hunter! We've got some questions for you!"

"Ethan! Where have you been for the past ten years?"

"Ethan! What happened ten years ago for you to runaway?"

"Ethan! Who is this with you?"

"Ethan! Ethan! Ethan!"

It was a chant. It was a riot. It was because of Ethan. Who are you? I wondered again as I was pulled out of the car when I took Ethan's hand. When Ethan crushed me to his chest, I could feel his heart pounding, his body shaking gently, his laboured breathing, and his urge to fight and defend or to flee.

Flashes surrounded us as our driver tried to push back the media. But they were having none of it, they wanted Ethan like provoked piranha's wanted flesh.

But shaking, and with me tucked against his chest, he walked us forward, ignoring the media as well as you could. They never touched us, but the yelling, the pushing, the flashing was enough to drive you insane with claustrophobia. I found myself clutching at Ethan's arms as we walked, the driver was in front of us, trying to make a path, and I was never more glad when we entered the hotel, hearing the click of locks sealing the doors closed behind us.

We both shook from the stress of the experience. An experience that I never wanted to have again. Who are you Ethan?

Our driver took us to the front desk, and as he spoke to her, I turned in Ethan's arms to see that his pupils had dilated, and so instead of asking him as I had planed, I instead threw my arms around him. In response, he tucked me in closer and nuzzled my hair.

A cough had Ethan lifting his head slightly. "I'll show you to your room."

Ethan turned me until my back was against his chest again and we made our way to the elevator. As we got into the elevator, the police man started to give us instructions, but I didn't hear them, I was exhausted, I wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep for months, and then when I eventually woke, I wanted to ask Ethan a simple question: who are you? Only, my worry was, would his answer just be as simple, or would I regret ever running into Ethan Hunter...