Imperfect

Eleven - Alyssa

I startled at the sound of something smashing against the wall. The sound was coming from the dining room. I couldn't help but jump – I'd been very jumpy this morning. With a plate of fruit in one hand, I stepped in, the sound of my heels clicking on the floor echoing through the room and gaining the attention of the two men who stood across from me.

I ignored the one and focused on my brother. His eyes were red and bleary, his hair was a mess and rather than his usual attire of a suit or at least dress pants and a shirt, he wore grey joggers and a t-shirt, similar to what the man beside him always wore. When he met my gaze, some of the anger blazing in his eyes softened and he tried to force a smile but we both knew it wasn't sincere.

Last night, they'd come storming in, yelling my name while I slept. I'd startled awake and barely managed to slide into the silk robe I kept beside my bed before Ethan came storming in, his eyes bloodshot, his face beet red and blood splattered across his shirt. I felt like I was about to scream at the sight of him but any sound got stuck in my throat until he threw his arms around me and squeezed me so tightly I thought I'd pass out.

"Are you okay?" he'd asked me, his words a bit slurred from drink.

Truthfully, while physically I'd been fine, I hated being in the house alone. It suddenly felt too big and empty and too small and confining at the same time. I'd stood at my window, looking at the drop down from the highest level of our building, towering high above the Manhattan skyline. If someone got into the penthouse, I was trapped up here with them. The lift or the back staircase was my only chance at escape and there was no way I'd outrun anyone down those stairs, especially not in my heels.

The though had caused my blood to turn cold and I'd tossed and turned for hours before the others came back, screaming my name in a way that had me close to throwing up. And then they'd told me. About Ryan. About how he'd approached Ethan, demanding to see me, threatening him, promising him that he would get me back. Then I did throw up. I wrestled put of my brothers arms and ran to the toilet, vomiting the small amount of salad I'd had for dinner until my stomach was empty.

He'd sat with me, soothing me and promising I was safe, before continuing. He told me about how, when they'd returned to the penthouse, he was in the lobby, trying to get past the security team Ethan had hired. I threw up again. Nothing but stomach acid came out but I continued to heave, thinking about what would have happened if he would've gotten past those men. If he'd have found me in my bed, naked and vulnerable and trapped. I couldn't stop dry heaving.

Ethan had stayed with me for hours, sitting beside me while I tried to get back to sleep, my mind on high alert until finally, I slipped into unconsciousness. The rest of the guys slept in the den downstairs and Ethan's room was only down the hall. If he came back, I'd be safe.

Now, I stared at my brother and Cal, noticing the phone smashed to pieces at their feet. "What's going on?" I asked them.

I watched Ethan's shoulders slump as he sighed. "I got a call from work," he muttered. I frowned, knowing something must be wrong for them to call him on a Sunday. "They want me to go to one of our offices in London," he explained.

I felt my stomach drop and suddenly, I'd severely lost my appetite. I put the plate of fruit on the table beside me, the sight alone making me feel sick all over again. "For how long?" I asked him.

He dragged a hand through his tousled hair. "At least a week, more likely two."

I could feel tears pricking my eyes as I asked, "can't you send someone else?"

He grit his teeth and shook his head. I wanted to beg him not to go, not after last night. I couldn't imagine being alone again tonight, let alone for the next week, wondering if Ryan would return and manage to get past security this time. But I knew Ethan didn't want to go as much as I didn't want him to and he wouldn't leave me unless it was important.