"Hey! Get off him man!"
"What the hell!"
"My camera!"
The screams force Emilia's eyes open as she blinks away the spots that had developed from such a bright and sudden flash. Why had someone been taking a picture? Were people fighting? She wonders frantically, looking around for Jasmine to find her horrified behind her, hands over her mouth, and then Mr. Knyte, standing over a very skinny and weedy looking man staring at his broken camera that lays beside him in utter horror at the thing he had probably paid quite a bit of money for.
"Dude, why the hell did you do that!" He scrambles back, terrified of Mr. Knyte as he steps back slowly, kicking the camera toward him roughly and you can see the cracked lens and shattered piece of equipment as Emilia steps back in surprise. She recognized the man, his greasy hair, he was one of the people taking pictures when she had first left Jazz's house that very morning, and she could feel her heart sinking to the bottoms of her feet, feeling as if she could cry.
"I believe it is time to go home Miss Emilia, Miss Carr." Mr. Knyte says rather abruptly, taking hold of her wrist with more force this time but still gently, and placing a hand on Jazz's back to push her forward and get them both moving quickly, past the camera man, or rather paparazzi, and towards that red outlined door. The door to hell, Emilia now comes to think of it, and the stairway out of it. Her shock makes her look back at the man to see him scoop up his camera and give them both a murderous look as he takes into account the damage. She wants to say sorry, she wants to say that she will pay for it, but he pulls her away before she can get out so much as a little sound that mocks an apology for his broken camera and that forbidden picture. She just prays that his memory card is as shattered as his lens.
Striding up the steps and nearly falling again, Mr. Knyte practically lifts her by the waist to hurry her up before the bouncer can stop them or say anything as they hurry past and around the corner, into a rather dark and terrifying looking alleyway. Mr. Knyte drops her wrist and allows her to walk on her own, considerably slower than he had been dragging as he leads the way and she can't help but notice the hand on his hip, clearly holding onto the gun.
Emilia can't help but swallow in slight terror at the thought that he may have to use it and picks up the pace beside Jazz, none of them talking as she assumes they are heading towards the car. She can feel the rubbing of the too big heels creating a blister on her pinky toe and the shot of straight tequila still in her very light weight system still holding its effect, despite the very sobering effects of the events in the club just moments ago.
"Why the hell did you break that man's camera?" Hisses Jazz, her long legs much more able to keep pace with his than hers were able to at the moment.
"Because, if there is a photo of Mr. Delmont's underage new step-daughter appears in the tabloids, my boss will not be happy." He speaks plainly, voice hard and sharp as any stone as he strolls around the corner and into the small alley where the car is parked, clearly so he won't have to pay for inner city parking.
"Miss Emilia, Miss Carr, if you please?" He speaks in that same voice, holding the door open for them again, much jerkier and with more intent, almost nervous as he looks around the alley, waiting for them to get in before practically slamming the door behind them and climbing in the front seat again.
"Could you please take Jasmine home first, Mr. Knyte?" Emilia asks, trying to keep her voice calm so that she doesn't cry in front of her best friend. She is fine with being mad, or sad, or excited, even nervous in front of her best friend in the whole world, but fear, she could not show her fear.
And that was the moment that she realized what was wrong with her mother's new husband, she was scared of him, no, terrified of the man, and she had no idea why. Why did he always seem to be yelling at someone through the phone, why was his house so secured, and his business so secretive, and why the hell would someone like that marry her mother? A little nobody, who, as beautiful as she is, could not dream in a million years of getting a bachelor like that man. Mr. Delmont scared her because as much as she wants to believe that he loves her mother and that is the only reason he married her, she just can't.
"Emi, are you ok?" Jasmine asks, very concerned at the look on her face as she masks it with the smallest smile imaginable.
"I'm fine Jazz, just really wishing I hadn't had that shot." She says, forcing a giggle that sounded much more strained than she would like it to.
"I think I needed more than that shot from what just happened." Jazz remarks wryly, forcing a real, but more bark-like laugh from her mouth this time that she quickly smothers with a hand, smiling behind it rather widely. Shaking her head slightly at the silliness of Jazz's reaction.
How is she not terrified of what is going to happen when Mr. Delmont finds out? And he is going to, from Mr. Knyte. Could she convince him not to tell? Or maybe just convince him to bend the truth a little, tell him that she didn't drink anything and was only there in solidarity of her best friend. Or maybe, if they get back in time he just doesn't have to find out at all, no consequences. I mean, he was bound to be in trouble for letting her do that in the first place, right? Maybe she can use that argument to get out of this.
Her mind and heart racing in sync, her eyes staring out the window as the sky breaks open and what had begun as a misty fog, is a downpour in no time. As the car squeals to a stop, Emilia digs her nails into the edge of her seat, deciding what she is going to say to Mr. Knyte as she bades good night to Jazz and watch her step into her building before heading out towards Mr. Delmont's home, and her soon to be doom.
"Mr. Knyte, I was hoping that we could keep the uhm, adventures, of tonight just between us? And that Mr. Delmont does not have to hear of them?" Emilia asks quietly, her voice barely audible above the pounding rain as they halt at a stop light. But there is just that pounding for what feels like forever, though perhaps it is her own heart against her ears, or the fear coursing through her veins, not the rain at all.
"Miss Emilia, I think you are aware that I can not do that." He says slowly, his voice tight but she isn't sure with what.
"Please, you are the only person that knows what happened, and, I really doubt that guy will be saying anything, and he can't post anything so there's no other way to find out, I-I beg of you, please?" Emilia begs, for the first time in her life, she begs, her terror at being caught outweighing her own pride as she feels tears clouding her vision. Trying to hold them back she looks up to meet his in the mirror, and in that instant he seems to register everything, all the fear, in that brief second long glance in a mirror.
"Emilia, I. . He is my boss, I can't lie to him if he asks."
"I'm not asking you to lie, I'm just asking you, not to tell him. He doesn't need to know about this, I swear I don't do this regularly, this is the first time, and if he finds out. . ." She trails off, she doesn't know what he will do, increase restrictions? Forbid her from seeing Jasmine? Or something even worse. "I don't trust him, or his intentions." She whispers under her breath, half hoping he won't hear it over the insistent rain and squeaking breaks as they stop at another red light.
"You shouldn't." His voice is harsh suddenly, reminding her of the controlled anger when speaking with Brittany.
"I shouldn't what?" She practically breathes, unable to understand what he means.
"Trust Mr. Delmont, or his intentions." He says, voice cold as he moves forward again to the next red light, the only car on the road.
"What do you know?" She asks, she has to ask, she can't stop herself from asking.
"Enough." Is his only response, the car, for once, moving below the speed limit as his eyes dart around, slightly narrowed as if he is expecting something to happen.
"But. ."
"You need to be careful, Emilia, and you need to stop asking questions. I don't want you to get in trouble, it could get you hurt." He says, his voice slow and serious, impressing every word, every syllable into her brain.
"I don't understand, how could it. . "
"Please, Emilia, just trust me." He says, looking in the mirror again and their eyes meet. She wants to look away, to say no, that she doesn't trust him, that he works for him, but she can't. He had protected her above and beyond what he was paid for, and was telling her things that he probably shouldn't to try and keep her safe from his very employer. Swallowing hard, she nods yes to him, one time up and down before he looks away and her eyes fall to her shaking hands in her lap.
"Ok." She murmurs, and silence falls onto them once more, holding tightly to the rain as they finally arrive back at the mansion, pulling between the gates at 11:48pm, just in time to not be suspicious, and not be in trouble.
As the door opens and she accepts his hand to step under the umbrella that he holds, she pauses from going inside, and looks up into those storm-like eyes intently.
"Thank you, Mr. Knyte, for everything." She says softly, still holding that strong but gentle hand.
As they maintain eye contact, he slowly lifts it to his lips and presses his lips against her fingers ever so slightly, snatching the breath from her lungs and heating up her face for the millionth time that day.
"Please, call me Alexander, Miss Emilia, I wish you, a pleasant night. I will see you in the morning." He tells her, slowly dropping her hand and handing over the umbrella before practically sprinting down the steps as thunder crashes overhead, for what will be a restless night as the man pulls out of the mansion.
Alex brushes his hair out of his steely eyes, the damp length heavy with water as he stares out the windshield at the falling rain, pulled to the side of the road not too far from where he had just dropped off his charge. In a sudden burst as thunder crashes again, he slams a fist against the wheel in unrepented rage, his eyes reflecting the lightning above as he cursess one name, Mr. Delmont, for forcing him to keep things from someone that so badly needs to know, before he pulls off at unsafe speeds back into that dark night.