Read Online Broken Prince: A New Adult Romance Novel by Aubrey Rose - Free Book Online
Authors: Aubrey Rose
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smoke, and pressed herself farther back against the shelves. The sirens sounded louder now, just outside the salon.
"We have to get out." Eliot pulled Marta to her feet, but she resisted.
"No! You can't go out there!" she cried. The stylist unlocked the door and looked back to Eliot.
"We can try the back exit," the receptionist said. Her voice quavered, but she was ready to get out. The smoke grew thicker, ribbons of white coming in under the door. Eliot's eyes burned.
"Yes," Eliot said. "Ready?" He grabbed Marta's arm to pull her. She clutched his arm but stopped resisting.
"Go!" Eliot cried, and the stylist threw open the door. Clouds of opaque smoke billowed into the small room, and a rush of heat washed over Eliot's face. He couldn't see anybody from the mob, which was no surprise since he couldn't see anything. He held Marta's hand tightly and turned to follow the stylist, but in front of them the heat intensified.
"Out the front!" Eliot said, coughing through the words. The stylist and receptionist turned and both disappeared into the smoke, leaving the two of them behind. Eliot followed in their direction, walking carefully across the salon with Marta behind him. With so much smoke in his eyes, all he could see were glimpses of daylight from the windows. His shoes crunched the shattered glass on the floor. His throat burned with the smoke—something chemical must have caught fire; the sting was acrid—and he felt Marta lean against him for support. Sirens blared in his ears as though they were inches away. Just a few more steps...
He hit the doorframe with his foot and stumbled sideways just as he felt Marta pitch forward. He caught her falling and lifted her limp body against his shoulder. The stylist and receptionist had already escaped, he hoped, and he staggered forward with Marta's weight out of the clouds of smoke and into the street. The air cleared, and Eliot saw where the siren noise came from: a half-dozen police cars circling the salon and blocking off the rioters and news reporters. A fire truck rounded the corner, engine roaring. Marta coughed and spat, and Eliot eased her to her knees in the center of the street. The mob's noise dulled to a mute din in Eliot's ears as he crouched down beside her.
"Are you alright?" Eliot asked. Marta nodded her head in a jerking motion before falling into another coughing fit. Eliot held her by the shoulders as she heaved. Surely an ambulance would be coming. He looked around frantically. Video cameramen and photographers crowded around the police barricade, the black lenses following Eliot and Marta. Rioters ran away from the scene.
"It's alright," Eliot said. He looked around at the mob of people swirling around the street. Smoke billowed out of the salon storefront, and the sirens flashed red and blue, the klaxons deafening. He saw Marta's white Ferrari, the windows smashed, the seats smoldering. The rioters had set it on fire.
"It's going to be alright," Eliot repeated, and he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Marta, or himself.
CHAPTER TEN
Brynn
“For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love.”
Carl Sagan
I didn't believe Csilla. I didn't believe the newspaper. But when I looked through the news archives on my phone, I found articles—dozens of them—talking about Eliot's trial. And then I came to one article where I had to look up a word in the headline. Gyónás . Confession . I shut my phone and jumped when it rang immediately. It was my grandmother.
"Hi Nagyi," I said, forcing brightness into my voice. "How are you?"
"I am well," Nagyi said. "How about you? How is your prince?"
"He's doing well," I said, my face turning warm as I thought about what I had just learned about him. "Working hard."
"I hope he's been supportive of you after...after everything that happened to you."
"He's been wonderful," I said. It wasn't hard to sound earnest—Eliot had done everything for me in the weeks after I
"We have to get out." Eliot pulled Marta to her feet, but she resisted.
"No! You can't go out there!" she cried. The stylist unlocked the door and looked back to Eliot.
"We can try the back exit," the receptionist said. Her voice quavered, but she was ready to get out. The smoke grew thicker, ribbons of white coming in under the door. Eliot's eyes burned.
"Yes," Eliot said. "Ready?" He grabbed Marta's arm to pull her. She clutched his arm but stopped resisting.
"Go!" Eliot cried, and the stylist threw open the door. Clouds of opaque smoke billowed into the small room, and a rush of heat washed over Eliot's face. He couldn't see anybody from the mob, which was no surprise since he couldn't see anything. He held Marta's hand tightly and turned to follow the stylist, but in front of them the heat intensified.
"Out the front!" Eliot said, coughing through the words. The stylist and receptionist turned and both disappeared into the smoke, leaving the two of them behind. Eliot followed in their direction, walking carefully across the salon with Marta behind him. With so much smoke in his eyes, all he could see were glimpses of daylight from the windows. His shoes crunched the shattered glass on the floor. His throat burned with the smoke—something chemical must have caught fire; the sting was acrid—and he felt Marta lean against him for support. Sirens blared in his ears as though they were inches away. Just a few more steps...
He hit the doorframe with his foot and stumbled sideways just as he felt Marta pitch forward. He caught her falling and lifted her limp body against his shoulder. The stylist and receptionist had already escaped, he hoped, and he staggered forward with Marta's weight out of the clouds of smoke and into the street. The air cleared, and Eliot saw where the siren noise came from: a half-dozen police cars circling the salon and blocking off the rioters and news reporters. A fire truck rounded the corner, engine roaring. Marta coughed and spat, and Eliot eased her to her knees in the center of the street. The mob's noise dulled to a mute din in Eliot's ears as he crouched down beside her.
"Are you alright?" Eliot asked. Marta nodded her head in a jerking motion before falling into another coughing fit. Eliot held her by the shoulders as she heaved. Surely an ambulance would be coming. He looked around frantically. Video cameramen and photographers crowded around the police barricade, the black lenses following Eliot and Marta. Rioters ran away from the scene.
"It's alright," Eliot said. He looked around at the mob of people swirling around the street. Smoke billowed out of the salon storefront, and the sirens flashed red and blue, the klaxons deafening. He saw Marta's white Ferrari, the windows smashed, the seats smoldering. The rioters had set it on fire.
"It's going to be alright," Eliot repeated, and he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Marta, or himself.
CHAPTER TEN
Brynn
“For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love.”
Carl Sagan
I didn't believe Csilla. I didn't believe the newspaper. But when I looked through the news archives on my phone, I found articles—dozens of them—talking about Eliot's trial. And then I came to one article where I had to look up a word in the headline. Gyónás . Confession . I shut my phone and jumped when it rang immediately. It was my grandmother.
"Hi Nagyi," I said, forcing brightness into my voice. "How are you?"
"I am well," Nagyi said. "How about you? How is your prince?"
"He's doing well," I said, my face turning warm as I thought about what I had just learned about him. "Working hard."
"I hope he's been supportive of you after...after everything that happened to you."
"He's been wonderful," I said. It wasn't hard to sound earnest—Eliot had done everything for me in the weeks after I
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