Failed Escape

I paced the room anxiously, biting my nails. The hours were ticking by too quickly, and I had no escape plan in mind.

Damien’s words replayed in my head: “There’s a party tonight, and I want you to get ready, you're tagging along.” He had meant it as an order, but all I heard was an opportunity.

Maybe my only chance to run.

I had just twenty-four hours left, and waiting for my father to show up with the money was pointless. A million dollars? He’d never come through. I couldn’t stay here anymore.

I sighed, tugging at the hem of my plain black pants and simple white top. They weren’t formal, but they were the most comfortable clothes I could find from the small wardrobe Damien had given me.

I glanced at myself in the mirror, running my fingers through my damp curls to push them out of my face. A knock sounded on the door, I froze, my heart leaping into my throat. For a moment, I thought about not answering, but I knew better. Damien wasn’t the type to be kept waiting.

“I'm coming,”

Damien was waiting for me at the bottom of the grand staircase. He wore another sleek black suit, perfectly tailored to his broad frame. His sharp gaze immediately scanned my attire, and his brow furrowed.

“Does this look any way formal to you?,” he said as I stepped down, “What the hell are you wearing?”

“This was the best I could find,” I responded, crossing my arms over my chest.

I watched his lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, I thought he might explode. Instead, he motioned to one of his men. “Driver, stop at the boutique on Fifth Avenue before we head to the party. She needs something appropriate.”

I bit my lip, suppressing a sigh of relief. This was perfect. The boutique was perfect.

___

The ride to the boutique was silent, as neither of us had anything to say. I sat quietly in the back seat of the luxurious car, my hands clasped anxiously in my lap.

Damien’s presence beside me was nerve-racking, making me feel like I was suffocating.

I turned my gaze to the window and whined down to watch the city lights blur past as we drove.

Finally, the car came to a stop outside an upscale boutique with shiny glass windows. Inside, rows of elegant dresses and sparkling jewelry glowed under bright lights. It was nothing like anything I’d ever seen.

Damien rolled out first, and I followed reluctantly, with my eyes darting around the street. I was making sure to take every detail to aid my escape, the layout of the boutique, the number of people nearby, and even the possible exits.

“Inside,” Damien ordered, his voice snapping my attention back to him.

We entered the luxurious boutique with floor-to-ceiling mirrors and rows of well-arranged dresses I was guessing would cost a fortune. I couldn't help but marvel at such a beautiful sight.

I turned to see the sales reps fawning over Damien as soon as he stepped inside, with an eagerness to cater to his every whim.

One of the saleswomen, who I guess was the manager, approached us immediately, her professional smile widening when she recognized Damien. “Mr. Black, what a pleasure to see you. How can we assist you tonight?”

“Find something. Quickly,” Damien instructed me, ignoring the saleswoman who had spoken. His tone was dismissive as if this was just another errand to him.

I bristled but said nothing, just letting the saleswoman lead me to the racks of dresses.

“This way, miss,”

I trailed after her, glancing back once at Damien, who was already distracted by the phone in his hand.

Perfect. This was my chance.

I forced myself to pretend to focus on the task at hand. I pulled a deep red hand-made lace gown off the rack. It was a beautiful high-slit, and I thought Damien might actually approve of it, even though I had no intention of wearing it.

I slipped into the dressing room and began looking for a way out when my eyes landed on the door to the restroom just a few feet away.

"This must be it!" I muttered, stepping out to meet the saleswoman so she wouldn't notice my delay in there

“Oh, that’s stunning! Let me grab a pair of heels to go with it.” she lit up in excitement, heading over to the shoe rack

I nodded.

Damien glanced at me, his brow lifting slightly.

“This is fine,” he said dismissively.

“It’s too tight,” I said quickly, retreating back to the rack to pick another dress before he could comment.

The second dress was a shimmering silver gown that fell to my ankles. Again, I stepped out, gave it a dismissive shake of my head, and returned to the changing room.

“I don’t like this one either,” I lied, heading back.

By the third dress, Damien was obviously irritated. “You’re stalling, Tracey. Pick something already,” he snapped, his patience wearing thin.

I glanced at him, my throat tightening. “I just want to find the right one,” I said walking back to the rack to pick another dress. I needed the restroom to be empty for me to escape.

The third dress I picked was a dark green, sleek and sophisticated.

"Let me try this on," I said, taking a moment to catch my breath as I headed to the dressing room once more.

The restroom was just there, a few feet away and I could see the fire exit beyond it.

The moment I was back in the changing room, I sprang into action.

I slipped out of the previous dress and back into my original plain pants and white top, then headed straight for the restroom door making sure to stay out of sight.

My pulse pounded in my ears as I pushed open the door and scanned for the fire exit.

There it was! I smiled, bolting through the exit door, feeling the cold night air hit my face.

Freedom.

___

The rain started almost immediately as if waiting for me to make a move. I ran through the dark streets, my clothes quickly becoming drenched, my breath in ragged gasps. I was grateful to have changed back into my original outfit—how could I have run in a gown?

I continued running, not daring to stop despite the harsh hit of the rain against my skin. All that mattered to me was putting as much distance as possible between myself and Damien’s world.

After what felt like hours of running, I couldn’t move anymore. Exhausted, I glanced around and stumbled upon a small jewelry stall tucked under a makeshift canopy.

I pushed myself further until I was in front of the vendor, an older man with graying hair and a faint smile. With his eyes, I could tell he was Italian. He looked up as I approached.

"Per piacere, Posso fermarmi qui fino a quando non smette di piovere?"I panted in Italy, shivering (“Please, Can I stay here for a while? Just until the rain stops?”)

The man’s eyes lingered on my soaked clothes for a while, “Of course,” he said with a smile. “Come in, miss.”

Grateful, I ducked under the canopy and sat on a crate. He offered me a towel, which I accepted hesitantly.

“You’re all wet,”

“All alone out here, Mio cara?” he asked, his tone low.

“Just passing through,” I said quickly, avoiding his eyes.

The man stepped closer. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be wandering these streets alone.”

I stiffened. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine, Mon Amie,” he said, leaning in. "Posso darti una mano… se sei gentile con me."

(“Maybe I can help you… if you’re nice to me,” he said in a suggestive tone.)

Mom had warned about how lustful the street men could be. My instinct was now screaming at me to leave, but I looked up to the pouring rain which seemed like it was not ready to stop anytime soon, and I had nowhere else to go.

The man moved closer, his eyes darkening with lust. “Think about it, sweetheart. There’s so much I could do for you.”

My stomach turned. I stood abruptly, backing away. “I don’t need your help. Thank you for letting me stay here, but I have to go now.” I decided. It was better to be beaten by the rain than seated uncomfortably with a lewd man.

The man’s smile disappeared, replaced by a sneer. “Don’t play hard to get. You came to me, remember?”

“I said no!” I snapped, causing the man’s expression to darken.

He lunged at me, grabbing my arm. “You think you can just walk away from me?!” His grip tightened. "Not so fast, sweetheart. You owe me for my kindness."

I struggled, panic setting in. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. It was not part of my plan to escape Damien and to fall into the hands of someone just as dangerous.

“Let me go!” I cried, but his grip tightened.

Tears began streaming down my face as I realized I was powerless.

My mind raced, silently begging for a miracle, for someone, anyone, to save me but I knew there was no one around. The road was empty with just me and the Italian Vendor who was clutching closer onto me by seconds.

"You look divine, my lady." He murmured, his hand hazzling to remove my wet top and reach for my bosom, and lips on my neck.

I closed my eyes accepting my fate, tears streaming down my eyes, when I heard the low rumble of a car engine.

The vendor’s grip loosened as he turned toward the sound. A sleek black car pulled up, its tinted windows reflecting the dim streetlights. I could recognize that car from anywhere. It was Damien!

The passenger door opened, and one of Damien’s men stepped out, his gun cocked and ready to fire.

“Step away,” the man growled.

The vendor raised his hands, stammering, “Boss…I didn’t mean any harm—”

Without wasting time, the gunshot echoed through the night, silencing him mid-sentence. The vendor fell dead to the ground, with his blood pooling beneath him.

Before I could react to the scene before me, I felt a pair of strong arms grab me, dragging me to a waiting car. Damien sat inside. He looked furious, his dark eyes blazing with such anger I had never seen before.

“Get her in the car,” he ordered coldly.

The guard ducked my head into the car despite my protests.

“Wait! I—”

“Shut up,” Damien snapped, his voice like ice.