The taxi service picked up and Belle said in a tremulous voice, “I need a taxi at Chy An Als Point. Immediately. It’s an emergency,” she semi-lied.
It wasn’t a true emergency, just an emergency to her.
But in order to get away, she was willing to lie.
She’d worry about the black mark against her soul later.
A lot later.
“Belle.” Miles’s voice was an ugly warning.
“What’s the name?” the lady at the taxi service asked in her ear.
“Belle Abbot,” Belle answered.
There was a brief pause then a breathy, “The Tiny Dynamo?”
Belle shut her eyes tight at the hated, ridiculous title the papers had given her as she felt the fury emanating from Miles hitting her.
“Yes,” she replied, not willing to extend the energy to fight it.
“And it’s an emergency?” the lady asked.
“Yes,” Belle semi-lied again.
“Someone will be right there, love. Don’t you worry,” the lady assured her and Belle felt immense relief mingled with guilt for leading the nice taxi lady on.
“Thank you,” Belle whispered, only the relief evident in her voice then she touched the screen to end the call.
She threw her mobile on top of her purse and shook out the jeans, still ignoring Miles.
“So, you think you can come to my home, meet my mother, spend the night f**king my brother while I’m at the party searching for you, half mad with worry and then just go home?” Miles’s dangerous voice asked.
“Go away, Miles.” Belle sounded exactly as frightened as she felt and she didn’t care. She yanked up the jeans, fastened the button fly and then dashed around the room, gathering her things and running back to the bag, shoving it in.
“Go away?” Miles asked quietly as she did this.
“Yes. Go away,” Belle repeated, rushing around the room, blindly grabbing her belongings, not looking at him.
“Go away,” Miles whispered and it was a sinister whisper. A whisper that sent shivers of fear up her spine.
Belle didn’t respond, she pushed her hand into her bag, found her flip-flops and pulled them out, dropping them to the floor.
She felt him get close when she shoved her feet into the shoes.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
“Go away,” she whispered, thrusting her stuff into the bag so she could do the zip.
She felt fingers tighten brutally around her upper arm and with an instinct borne of experience, she braced minutes before he shook her by her arm savagely so she turned to him.
His face was frighteningly red with clearly evident wrath and Belle sucked in a terrified breath at the sight right before he roared, “You f**king whore!”
She flinched then belatedly tried to jerk her arm out of his grip.
This didn’t work.
Fear spiralled through her belly as he took her other arm in his grasp and shook her so hard her head snapped back.