Chapter 6: Not Every Client Will Stand by Her

Elena's POV

The rain did nothing to calm my nerves.

I stood by the wet pavement long after the client’s car had disappeared, the water sliding down the back of my neck and down my collar.

My clothes were already soaked and pulling me down, the words he had left me with kept turning over and over in my mind.

It was almost nothing, but it was also the only door that had not fully closed on me so far.

I stood for a few minutes before I turned away, didn't call Dante, didn't call Maya, didn't even bother checking the messages already piling up on my phone.

I simply started walking away from the building, the first two taxis that appeared drove past me like they'd heard about me already.

But the third one stopped right in front of me.

“Where to?” He asked while I stepped inside. “Would have said you should be careful with the seats, but that's too late.”

I ignored his second remark. “Take me to the best hotel on the other side of town,” I rather said.

I already had a place in mind, but didn't want to call it, would just tell him when we get there. I had stayed there once years ago during a site visit.

It wasn't the kind of place that attracted much attention, not the kind of place anyone would think to look for Richard Ashford’s daughter.

“Stop me here,” I called out the second he got close. When I stepped out, I paid double the fare. “That's for your seat,” I added.

And before he could thank me, I turned and walked towards the hotel. Inside, the receptionist eyed over my wet clothes and from the look on her face, it had reached her too.

I couldn't care less, just booked a room quickly, got one on the twelfth floor, and made my way up there.

By the time I got there, I locked the door behind me, dropped my bag on the floor, and stood still for a moment in the middle of the carpet.

Water dripped down my clothes over the carpet, soaking it fast. I took my time to look over the room, it had white walls, a wide desk under the window, and a pretty decent bathroom.

My hands were still trembling while I kept telling myself it was the cold.

I stripped off the wet clothes piece by piece and left them in a heap on the bathroom tiles, stepping under the shower.

The water took a long time to run hot, and when it finally did, I stepped under the spray and stayed there till the shaking stopped.

I washed my hair slowly, then scrubbed my skin till I started feeling myself again. When I stepped out, I could barely see myself through the mirror.

I wrapped myself in the hotel robe, then sat at the desk and spread out everything I still owned.

My private portfolio came first, the thick black binder I had kept separate from every Ashford file. Then the independent concept plans I had developed over the last two years in stolen hours.

Then the company registration documents for the design consultancy I had formed and was forced to leave dormant.

I lined them all up carefully, and for a long time I only stared at them.

Then went to work.

I spread my private portfolio across the desk and rebuilt the proposal around the work the board had kept diluting. I cut every compromise added for politics, tightened the risk plan, and worked until the pages finally looked like mine again.

My eyes began betraying me bit by bit, but I forced them up, having to order food at some point just to keep myself awake.

I ordered a dark suit for the morning, ate half a room-service dinner over the drawings, and kept working until the lines began to blur.

And when my eyes started to burn again, the lines on the page stopped making sense.

I forced myself to close the binder. No need making a mistake or worse, ruining my last shot.

Then laid down on top of the covers, sleep finding me pretty fast…

I got up the next morning before the alarm, the room still partly dim by the time I sat up. For a few seconds, I looked around, not really sure where I was.

Then the weight of the previous day settled back onto my chest, forcing me up slowly as I pushed my hair out of my face and walked into the bathroom.

Then stood naked in front of the mirror for a long time, looking at the woman who had nothing left of her old life.

No company position, no team waiting for her instructions, no trust fund. No engagement ring.

I turned toward the light slowly, spotting out faint marks along my collarbone. I shook my head and turned on the shower again, stepping under it for a quick wash before drying off my hair and body.

When I stepped out, I didn't bother putting on a concealer from the make-up kit I carried around in my bag, only deciding to arrange my hair, adding a little lip gloss and polishing myself.

I then remembered I hadn't gotten the clothes I ordered yesterday, so I put a robe around myself and dialed the number.

The suit arrived just after sunrise. I changed quickly, pinned the small silver university pin to my lapel, and faced the mirror.

No company badge. No engagement ring. No Ashford colors.

This was the first day of whatever I was going to become.

I picked up the portfolio, checked the room one last time, and stepped out.