Page 128 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol. 5

High school gossip was the last thing on my mind as I sprinted down the hall. Let them think the worst. They already thought I was a prostitute.

“Stop!” Donnelley yelled from behind me.

“Brooklyn come back!” James said from somewhere closer behind me.

I looked over my shoulder. James was running down the hall after me. I felt bad for running from him. But if I stopped for him, I stopped for Donnelley.

“Brooklyn!” James yelled. “What the hell are you doing? I’m trying to help you!”

His voice was so close. He was going to catch me. I ran toward the stairs, gasping for air. Everything hurt, but my chest hurt the most. I tried to take a deep breath like Rob had told me to do when I was panicking earlier tonight. But I couldn’t. My vision was starting to blur.

I ran into the stairwell. Someone was cleaning up my bloody footprints. They didn’t look pleased that I was leaving a trail of more footprints. But they could have also been frowning at me for running around in my underwear. I didn’t freaking know and I didn’t freaking care.

I heard his bucket topple over and I just hoped it was Donnelley tripping over it instead of James.

I picked up my pace and ran down the stairs as fast as I could. When I reached the first floor, there was someone dressed in a rent-a-cop outfit coming toward me from the kitchen hall. I couldn’t trust a hotel security guard any more than I could trust Donnelley.

But I hesitated a moment too long.

James grabbed my arm. “What are you running from? Donnelley came to take you home.”

“He’s in on it, James. He’s the one that was driving. He left me there.”

“Fuck.”

We both looked up the stairs. We could hear Donnelley’s footsteps, but we couldn’t see him.

“This way.” James opened the door to the main part of the hotel. His hand slipped into mine as we ran down the hall. We turned left and his fingers tightened around mine. We ran down another hall until we ended up running into the lobby.

Shit.“Someone from school will see us,” I said and tried to take a step back. But then I saw the only face that I knew for sure would help me. Mr. Pruitt was arguing with the man at the front desk. His suit coat was wrinkled and his hair was askew. He looked a mess. And I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Dad.” My voice cracked as my tears spilled down my cheeks.

His eyes softened at the name.

I let go of James’ hand and ran into the lobby.

He ran over to me. “Sweetheart.” He pulled me into his arms. “I thought you were dead.” His voice was raspy, like he’d been crying too. “I thought I lost you.” He kissed the top of my head as he held me tight. “Thank God you’re alright.”

I buried my face in his chest. “Dad.” It was suddenly the only word I knew.

“You’re okay.” He kissed the top of my head again. “I’m here now.”

I knew I was safe as long as I was with him. But I wasn’t worried about me. “She’s going to kill Kennedy. She’s going to kill Kennedy.” I kept saying it over and over again.

He must have seen the bloody footprints, because he yelled, “Someone call an ambulance!”

“No.” I wiggled out of his grip. “Isabella can’t know. She’ll kill Kennedy. She’ll kill her if she knows I’m still here.”

“Isabella’s not going to hurt anyone,” he said. He turned his attention to James. “Why would you let her run around like this?” He pulled off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” James said.

“I said call an ambulance!” my dad snapped at the man staring at us from the front desk.

“She has Kennedy,” I said. “I can’t go to a hospital. She can’t know I’m here. She’ll know.”

“Mr. Pruitt,” James said. “Brooklyn said Isabella had a gun. And a bomb.”

“I’m taking care of it,” replied my dad.