Cornered (erotic) (#7, 101 Nights)

Chapter Five: Natalie

I secretly stay up late to watch Elijah’s address. If the events of the past several months had been different, I’d never recognize the name Nijala or care about it having a new king, and I almost doubt the speech of its leader to his people would rate international media attention.

Every once in a while, I’m left in complete awe about what I’ve been involved in, of how incredible it would’ve seemed to me six months ago. I’m torn between resentment and acknowledgement that I’ve had the experience of a lifetime. Of twenty lifetimes!

To think I could’ve been a queen …

I laugh. Loudly. I’m lying in bed in a seventy million dollar apartment, and that seems normal compared to being the queen of anywhere. It’s too insane to be real.

The speech itself is quite boring, given in Elijah’s native tongue of Arabic and translated in scrolling script across the bottom. In it, he announces the transition to a new government, his father’s abdication and stresses that the people are at the center of his programs.

My heart flies and my eyes are glued to his chiseled features from the moment he appears on the screen to when the news cuts off the speech for commentary. Flawless, proud, always in control, Elijah is every bit the regal king yet also appears tired. His gaze is sharp but the shadows beneath his eyes are dark and deep. He’s wearing an official uniform of some sort, not quite military dress but not fully civilian either. There are medals on one breast and two sashes – one blue, the other yellow - across his chest. He’s wearing a small crown, too, one that nestles into his thick, dark hair the way my fingers used to.

He’s changed in the time I’ve known him. On the outside, he remains the haughty, proud billionaire businessman-prince. But there’s something in his eyes that touches me, reminds me that he, too, has gone through more than he ever thought he would the past few months. We both have suffered.

I twist the blankets in my hands. I love seeing him but it also makes my pain fresher, and it toys with my expectations for the future, too. In returning home, I’d hoped for life to be easier. For things to be either close to normal or at least, not constantly twisting me up inside. My mom says to give it more time, and I know she’s partially motivated by her dislike of Elijah, no matter what he’s doing for the people who live on Tenley block. My dad keeps out of my personal life. He’ll always support whatever decision I make; this much I know.

I left Nijala six days ago, not yet recovered from the shock of all that had happened. I don’t know that I’ll ever forget it, but I’m praying I can at least live with myself at some point. I just keep envisioning my time in the shipping container, reliving the fear and despair and wondering how I would feel about Elijah and everything if it hadn’t happened.

But it did happen, and I’m once again left tumbling into emotions I know aren’t healthy.

When the talking heads appear on screen to discuss the speech, I’m almost glad. Seeing Elijah confuses me on a level I can’t begin to dissect.

I flip off the television and stretch out in bed. Desire creeps through me, as if I’d just seen Elijah in person and not on TV. It doesn’t seem possible that someone ten thousand miles away can affect me like this. My phone is under my pillow, in case he texts, though I tell myself it’s in case my mom or someone else messages me.

There’s a tap at my closed bedroom door.

I push myself up. There’s only one person it can be this late. “Come in, Layla.”

The door’s already opening. The fourteen year old girl is small for her age and suffers from brain damage resulting from a car accident several years ago, an attempt by her twisted father to kill her. It makes her act closer to ten than fifteen. Her limp is more pronounced tonight than usual. She crosses to my bed and crawls in with me. I laugh. She’s done this twice the past few days. Her arms go around my midsection.