Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
FRANCESCA
Turns out, there’s nothing like a train roaring towards me at full speed to reorient my priorities. Yesterday, I worried about rent and food and clothing and if I’d ever manage to get to university like I promised my childhood self.
Today, I’m grateful to breathe and move around with all my limbs intact.
My plan went off without a hitch… until it came to talking. My prepared speech flew out of my brain faster than the train would’ve hit. The few words I do remember saying were terse rather than conciliatory— I even managed to insult the guard—and I don’t fancy my chances at a do-over.
Although I keep an eye out all afternoon, I don’t catch sight of the men who’ve been following me. It doesn’t mean they’re not there—they were on my tail long before I clicked—but being unable to see them makes me gloomy.
When a lull comes in the café service, I head to the kitchen, rinsing plates and stacking the dishwasher, bundling the cloth napkins into the laundry bag.
After the excitement of planning my risky communication strategy, even the parts of work I usually enjoy feel like a letdown.
“Chess?” my coworker calls out to me. “There’s a customer here to see you.”
Goddammit. Not another complaint.
My failure to tell the correct syrups from one another took a sharp decline this morning, and I’ve already apologised and offered free drinks to two customers irate enough to return.
I slap on a smile and walk through the connecting door, my steps faltering to a stop.
Kincaid stands at the counter. He wears a dark tuxedo that fits beautifully, and just the act of looking at him is painful.
I hang back in the doorway, just staring. The images in my imagination don’t do him justice. I forgot how much presence he has. The same bearing as a commanding officer, drawing eyes just by being in the same room.
Even the customers sitting with their friends or colleagues turn to look, and Esther pretends to wipe the nearby tabletop, already squeaky clean.
My stomach performs a slow cartwheel, and it’s only when Esther clears her throat I’m prompted to move, walking behind the counter until he’s so close, I could reach out and touch him.
“Hey.”
My skin bursts into life under his stare, crawling from head to toe in the most delicious way until I shiver. When he meets my gaze, it’s like being back on the train tracks, a powerful force bearing down on me at high speed.
“Hey, yourself.” After a long, long, long time, his eyes drop to the counter, a faint frown scoring his forehead. “I’ll take a coffee to have here.”
“Long black, no sugar?”
A tiny smile curves his lips. “That’s right. Make some horrendously sweet concoction for yourself if you’d like. My treat.”
I jerk into motion, putting the order through the register and turning to make it while he taps to pay. By the time I make it and turn around, he’s in a seat at the corner table.
When I bring the drink over, he catches my wrist. “Do you want to sit? I had this big speech prepared but now I can’t think of a single word.”
I sink into the seat at a right angle to him, palms flat on the table to stop myself from touching him.
“What Aidan told you…”
I tilt my head, brows pinching together. “Yes?”
Kincaid’s voice is clogged with emotion as he says, “I wanted you to understand, I would never have hurt you. It was just a—”
“Threat. I know.”
“I don’t think you do. He was the one who shared your ad with Ezra.”
My frown deepens, unsure why this is even on his radar. “He wasn’t who I thought he was, but I wish you’d talked to me rather than him. It should have been my judgement call to make.”
A new customer enters the café and I’m halfway to standing when Esther calls, “I’ve got it,” and leaps behind the counter, waving me back to my seat.
Kincaid pulls at his collar, shifting his shoulders. “It’s my fault he used you. Ezra told him I liked you, and he seized an opportunity to curry favour with my cousin and put me off my game.”
I duck my head, connecting the dots. Aidan had bumped into me in the student car park one morning, just weeks before he made the squad. Looking back, it seems likely he engineered it, already knowing I might prove useful.
The friendship was never as it seemed.
I pull my mouth down at the corners, still unsure why this is what we’re discussing. “I must broadcast a signal that attracts bad men.”
Kincaid pulls a face. “Seriously?”
“It’s the only explanation I’ve got.”
“Freckles…” He looks aghast at the suggestion. “You placed an online ad to auction your virginity. That’s your ‘signal.’ You’re not innocent and I don’t understand why you’d pretend to be. Mike isn’t judging you any longer. You’re awesome the way you are and if any ‘bad boys’ hassle you, please invite them to a private party with my fists.”
He picks up the coffee, warming his palms on the hot mug, eyes staring into the distance.
“If Aidan wasn’t the reason you left, then why?”
He doesn’t know. I’m not expecting it and don’t know how to react.
The true explanation forms in my head, but when I try to get the words out, a full-body tremor rocks me. “I have to get back to work,” I say instead. “Do you want another drink?”
“No, just…” His expression is panicked, and he reaches into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “Here,” he says, handing across a ticket. “We have a date tonight. I didn’t want you to forget.”
“A date?”
My voice is barely audible as I stare at the small chit. Entry to the winter formal back at Westlake.
“I know I’ve dropped out and you’ve changed high schools, but…” He shrugs. “Thought it would be fun to catch up with the old gang.”
“You dropped out?”
He frowns again, then slowly nods. I remember how still he used to hold his face, hiding his emotions behind a blank mask. Now, he’s animated. Still reserved but not frighteningly so.
“My uncle offered me a full-time job, and I accepted.”
“Me, too. The dropped-out bit, not the job.” I wave my hand around. “Hence, this.”
“You left school? But… what about going to university? What about your dream?” He gives an incredulous laugh. “Out of everyone I know, you’re the person who most belongs in school.”
“It’s not forever.” The main reason was to avoid registering my name anywhere searchable, but I can’t say that aloud. Or that half my savings are destined for cobbler who can pull together a new name and IDs. “Just till I get back on my feet.”
“But you could—”
He breaks off, rubbing his forehead with enough force it leaves long streaks of red on his skin.
“Can you just tell me why? I don’t…” he shakes his head, face creasing into despair. “I thought we were doing okay, or better at least, then…” His eyes meet mine, holding them spellbound. “What happened?”
There’s no sign of him being disingenuous.
He really doesn’t know.
My first reaction is relief, then my stomach falls. Him not knowing is so much worse.
I drop my gaze, wiping my damp palms on my apron. “It was time to move on, that’s all.”
“You’re lying.” He reaches out to me, brushing escaped strands of hair away from my face, gently cupping my cheek. “Why are you lying to me?”
“I’m not.” I step out of range, pulse ticking high in my throat.
It never occurred to me he wouldn’t yet know. I thought the man who blackmailed me would have turned straight around and tried to make a quick buck off my stupidity when I fled.
I thought he’d had time to recover from the initial shock; that the men following me were a sign of forgiveness. That he was reaching out, trying to bridge the gap that my actions caused…
But he hasn’t got a clue.
His uncle doesn’t know.
My cheeks pulse with heat as I push the ticket back to his side of the table, shaking my head. “I won’t be going.”
Esther is making wild gestures, but I can’t look at her. I can guess what my coworker thinks and don’t need the added pressure when she doesn’t have context.
“Do you know what I miss? When I’d catch glimpses of you around school. I would be going through the motions, faking interest in lessons, then see you in class or across the quad and it was like a light turned on in my day.”
Kincaid stares at the ticket. I see the muscles working in his jaw, bunching where he clenches his teeth. Hard.
“I don’t even have a dress,” I add, glad to think of an excuse.
“Yes, you do. The boutique finished the adjustments and delivered it. It’s waiting back in my hotel room.”
He takes back the ticket, then puts a keycard down in its place.
“Room 801 at Oceanview Palace Hotel. Since the dance starts at eight, the plane will be ready for seven. What time do you finish work?”
“Five,” Esther promptly replies, shamelessly eavesdropping.
“Then meet me at the hotel room by six-thirty. Maybe a few minutes after if you don’t mind being fashionably late.”
“I’m not—”
“Or throw the keycard away. Your choice.”
His eyes meet mine, and I feel his magnetic draw. It would be so easy to say yes. To go with him. It’s what I wanted when I made contact. The fulfilment of every daydream I’ve had to pull myself out of before I start crying.
The happy ending I don’t deserve.
But if I go, I’ll spend my time waiting for the blackmailer to make a move. Waiting for Lance to kill me to keep his nephew safe.
Kincaid stands, the fit of his dark tuxedo gorgeous enough that tears well in my eyes. “Either way, it was good to see you.”
I jerk my gaze away and stare at the floor.
If I watch him walk away, it will absolutely break me.
The bell over the door jingles as he exits and the light noise might as well be the dull clang of doom.
“What the eff, Chess? Are you insane?” Esther rushes to the window, and I look in time to see Kincaid get into a waiting sedan, the driver smoothly pulling away from the curb. “He has a chauffeur, Chess.” She starts whacking me with a tea towel. “A chauffeur.”
“He also has a murderous lunatic for an uncle. Steer well clear.”
“Yeah. Like he’s going to go for me.” She watches the window long after the car is out of sight, sighing heavily before she drags herself back to work. “Honestly, they must breed you different down south. Girls in the capital, we know what a good deal looks like.”
“And do you know what a waiting customer looks like? Because it’s still your turn on the counter.”
“Ugh. You’re impossible.” She glances at the keycard still resting on the table. “If you don’t use this, could I keep it for my scrapbook?”
“For what?” I ask, suppressing a smile.
“To commemorate the day I found out my coworker was legitimately insane.”
“Hey.” I snatch the towel from her hand and flick it back at her. “Enough of the insults.” And I pluck the card from her fingers. “And I’ll drop this into the mailbox to return to the hotel.”
“Mm-hm.” She raises her eyebrows.
With an eyeroll, I tuck it into my jeans pocket. “I’m not going within a hundred metres of that place, believe me.” No matter how much I want to.
And at that, Esther looks even more crestfallen. “The disappointing thing is that I do.”