Page 101 of Sinful Bride

The elevator doors open, and I step inside. The doors close, and I'm alone with my thoughts and the hollow ache in my chest that won't go away no matter how hard I try to ignore it. I thought I was falling in love with her. I thought she might be falling in love with me.

But love doesn't hold a gun to your head while you sleep. Love doesn't lie and scheme and manipulate.

Love doesn't betray you.

22

ELENA

Three days pass in the penthouse like a prison sentence. The doctor came to check on me, as Declan promised—the only real interest Declan has shown in my welfare since—and assured me that I should have no ill effects besides some nausea and soreness from what happened. Declan leaves early in the mornings and returns late at night, and when he's here, he moves through the house like I'm not even in it. He doesn't speak to me or look at me. The few times I've tried to approach him, he's walked away before I could get a word out. I've never felt so invisible in my entire life.

The penthouse itself has become a cage. I know there are men stationed outside the front door, and I know Declan has ordered them to keep me here and make sure I don't leave.

I can't keep living like this. But he won't listen to me or give me the chance to explain. So I'll go to the source. I'll go to my father and tell him I can't do this, that I've found something in this marriage—something real, something worth fighting for—and I'm not going to destroy it just because he wants me to. And after that… I don’t know. I’ll find some way to convince Declan I’m telling the truth. But I need my father to call this off. I need him to understand that what I want isn’t some other man or a life on my own; it’s this life, with this man. Something I didn’t realize until I’d almost lost it.

I might have lost it anyway.

The hard part is getting past Declan's men. I know they're stationed outside the door, and I know they have orders not to let me leave. But I also know that most of them are Irish, from Declan's world, and they're used to guarding against external threats, not managing the movements of a mafia wife.

I wait until midmorning, when I know the building's service staff will be available. Then I call down to the front desk and tell them I need someone to come up and look at the dishwasher, that it's been making a strange noise, and I'm concerned it might be broken. The concierge assures me someone will be up within the hour. I quickly slip my credit card out of my purse and into my pocket, hoping Declan hasn't frozen it, and my phone as well.

When the maintenance man arrives, I hear him before I see him. There's a soft knock at the service entrance that leads from the kitchen to the back hallway where the building's utilities are housed. I hadn't even noticed it before. Finn and the other guard are still positioned outside the main door, and neither of them moves. They don't seem to realize there's another way in.

I open the service entrance, and the maintenance man steps through with his toolbox, nodding at me with the easy familiarity of someone who's done this a hundred times. "Morning, ma'am. Dishwasher giving you trouble?"

"Yes, thank you for coming so quickly." I keep my voice warm and gracious. I need him to feel like I'm genuinely grateful, like he's doing me a personal favor. "I wasn't sure how long it would take to get someone up here."

"Oh, we're pretty quick with service calls." He moves past me into the kitchen, already crouching down to examine the dishwasher. "Building management keeps us on speed dial. Especially for the penthouse units."

I lean against the counter, watching him work. "How long have you been doing this? Maintenance work, I mean."

He glances up, seeming pleased by the question. "About fifteen years now. Started with my old man, actually. He was a super in a building downtown before he retired."

"That's wonderful. It must be nice to have that kind of continuity." I'm laying it on thick, but he doesn't seem to notice. He's already opening the dishwasher door and peering inside. "Do you work on a lot of buildings in the city?"

"A few. This one's probably the nicest, though. Good management, good tenants mostly." He pulls out the filter, examining it. "And they don't mind us using the service entrances. Makes the job a hell of a lot easier than hauling equipment through the main lobby every time."

My pulse quickens. "The service entrances?"

"Yeah, there's one on every floor. Connects to the back hallway where all the utilities are. Saves time, you know? We can come and go without bothering anyone." He glances back at me. "Your dishwasher's fine, by the way. Just needs the filter cleaned out. Probably some food debris stuck in there."

That was exactly the information I needed—that the entrances connect, and I can get out of the building that way without having to exit on my floor where I could be seen by Declan’s men. "Oh, that's a relief." I move closer, watching as he demonstrates how to clean it properly. My mind is already working ahead. "I'm so glad it's nothing serious. Do you think you'll need to come back?"

"Shouldn't need to. Just keep an eye on it, and if it starts acting up again, give us a call. We can usually get someone out within a day or two." He's already packing up his toolbox. "The service entrance makes it real easy for us to get in and out, so don't worry about scheduling around your day or anything."

"That's very helpful to know." I walk him back toward the service entrance, my heart beginning to race. "Thank you so much for coming. You've been incredibly kind."

"No problem at all, ma'am. Have a good day."

I watch as he steps back through the service entrance, pulling the door closed behind him. I slip my foot in right as he closes it, and he’s so preoccupied he doesn’t even notice.

I wait for a few minutes, listening. Finn and the other guard are still outside the main door, their voices low. They have no idea what just happened, that I've found my way out.

The hallway beyond is narrow and dimly lit, lined with pipes and electrical conduits. It smells like metal and dust. I slip through the door and pull it closed behind me, moving down the hallway toward what I hope is a service stairwell or elevator. My heels click softly on the concrete floor, and I force myself to walk normally, like I belong here, like I'm not doing anything wrong.

I find the service elevator at the end of the hallway. It's smaller than the main one, more utilitarian, but it works. I press the button for the ground floor and wait, my heart pounding in my chest as the elevator descends. When the doors open, I step out into a service corridor that leads to a loading dock area. There's a door marked "Exit" with a push bar, and I don't hesitate.

The warm air of the Chicago morning hits my face as I step outside. I'm in an alley behind the building, away from the main entrance where Declan's men would be watching. I pull out my phone and open the rideshare app with shaking hands. Within minutes, a car is on its way to pick me up from the corner of the block.