Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
Gigi
The journey back to the Circle headquarters is filled with painful silence. Jamie shifts in his seat in the back of the car, jaw rigid and shoulders tense, knees spread so I’m forced to tuck mine in tight.
The chauffeur drives through the iron gates, struggling to manoeuvre between all the activity. An abundance of recruits and staff are wandering the patio.
The male driver pulls onto the gravel. “I’ll just pull up here, if that’s all right.”
“That’s fine,” I tell him.
Jamie throws a wad of cash into the front seat. He exits first, taking my arm to pull me out. Leading us through the entrance, he strides down the hall.
I tug my elbow back. “Slow down.”
He speeds up.
Jamie tosses over his shoulder, “What was she saying to you?”
“What are you talking about?”
He bucks his chin towards the open door of Richard’s office. “Get in.”
The hallways are busy, conversation echoing off the large ceiling. Those we pass by bear us little attention as I step into the empty room. Jamie closes the door and twists the lock.
“What did you say to her?”
“Who?”
“That fucking journalist!”
“I said nothing!”
“You were speaking to her for a while.”
“She’s just an old friend.”
He seethes, “Don’t fucking lie to me.”
Jamie steps forwards at such a speed that I’m forced to retreat. I back up until I reach the desk, the backs of my thighs meeting the obstruction. I tilt my head away, feeling flecks of spit on my cheek.
“Did you say I’ll kill your precious boyfriend?”
I grit out, “I didn’t say—”
But he won’t let me finish the sentence.
Jamie fists my hair, knocking me off my feet and flinging me sideways. My face hits the corner of the wooden desk. I manage to catch myself on trembling hands before my body collapses to the carpet. Stars touch my vision, distorting the sight of him crouching down, drawing his head closer.
“You’re a fucking liar!”
My fingers touch the side of my temple.
I draw back my hand, spotting the droplets of scarlet.
There are hundreds of people at the headquarters today, and I’m bleeding.
Fuck. If they see—
“No, no, no,” I panic, shaking my head.
If they see and suspect anything, this whole facade will be for nothing.
“Jamie—”
“You’re worried about bleeding?” he roars in my face. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
“Listen to me!” I hiss. “I’m telling you that nothing—”
He rears his head back before spitting in my face. The anger has me physically shaking, but with no weapons at my disposal, Jamie’s strength completely overpowers mine. I’m no match for him.
I wipe the saliva away with the back of my hand.
He retreats several steps, starting to pace. I use the moment of him rambling under his breath to rise to my feet.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“I’m not fighting with you.”
As I reach the exit, I hear the hurry of his footsteps. I quicken my pace, reaching for the doorknob, but his legs are longer, his determination more desperate. The blow comes to my upper back, stealing the ground beneath my feet.
“I saw the way she was looking at you!” He presses his loafer on my temple. “Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?”
I try to rise, but he pushes harder with each second.
Oh fuck.
My skull screeches.
He presses down with such intense pressure that I can’t help but submit to the pain.
Then he retreats his foot quickly, leaving me only a second to inhale a staggered breath before he kicks me. A strangled sound erupts from my mouth as blood floods my tongue.
He draws back his shoe and brings it forwards quickly, stopping it mere inches from my face. Laughter bellows from his chest, anger swarming him as I cower, tucking my chin to my chest.
“Get yourself cleaned up.” He tsks. “You’re a mess.”
I squint against the harsh light from the open doorway as he leaves, panic drowning me with the echo of activity from the hallway.
I need to get up. Now. But my body is shaking so intensely that every attempt is futile.
Pull yourself together, Gigi.
A whimper slips through my busted lips as I’m finally able to pull my head from the floor. A presence fills the entryway, daylight shining behind the figure and enveloping the room in shadow.
Hudson rushes over, crouching down beside me, his face masked with a cool composure I wish I had the ability to replicate right now. Yet there’s a slight crack in his facade, discomfort in the twitch of his eye.
He asks, “Are you okay?”
My immediate response is to laugh, although the feeling is disingenuous.
“Help me up.”
He takes my arm, helping me to my feet. As I rise, he palms the back of his neck. He says nothing. Although the look in his eyes can be counted as sympathy, I can barely look at him.
I cover my face, rushing out of the room. I scurry past recruits, ignoring their glances as I hurry towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. I enter, rushing to the mirror.
Seeing my reflection up close, the pain blossoms into a piercing ache. I survey the damage, running my tongue over my split lip. The swelling of my eye has it almost closed shut, the skin round it grazed, a bruise already starting to form.
Fuck. This is bad.
The door opens, the buzz of conversation outside slipping through the crack, in stark contrast to the immediate silence of whoever just entered.
I spin towards the intruder.
Poppy stands at the entrance, a backpack slung loosely over her shoulder. But as shock engulfs her, the strap slips off her arm and onto the tiled floor with a thump. Eyes wild, she goes from utter stillness to her mouth slowly gaping.
The door closes behind her, the sound forcing her to clear her throat.
“Gigi.” Her voice wavers. “Your …. your face—”
“Help me,” I plead, shocking myself with my own desperation. I rush towards her, taking the backpack and prying it open. “Do you have makeup in here?”
She breathes out, “Was it Jamie?”
I ignore her, reaching further into her bag. I dig through the contents desperately, passing her phone, her purse, and sets of keys. She steps closer, just inches away as she assesses my eye.
“Fucking hell, Gigi. Does he do this often?”
“Just leave it,” I tell her.
“Leave it?” She trips over her words before composing herself. “Blimey, we’ve killed people, but this is just wrong! Is he beating you?”
“No.”
“Does he blackmail you? Is that why you’re with him?”
The bottom of her bag gives way to nothing more than a lip liner and an empty tube of mascara.
FUCK.
“Poppy, the makeup. Where is it?”
“Is he threatening you to be with him?”
For fuck’s sake.
I ignore her, unzipping the inside pockets in the hope I’ll find a concealer or a smidge of foundation, just anything to help me out of this mess.
“Gigi!” Poppy shouts, grabbing my wrists. “Just tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell. It was my fault.” The words tumble out, my self-hatred spilling to the surface. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”
“Bullshit,” she snaps. “What’s happening?”
“I told you.” My restraint starts to slip, my chest suffocating with my slamming heart. “Nothing.”
“It’s fucking something!”
“Poppy,” I beg, my voice shaking, turning my face away to hide the mess. “Please, stop.”
“Then what is—?”
“STOP!”
“Tell me!”
I break.
“HARRY!” I scream, the confession stealing the air from my lungs. “He’s threatening Harry.”
Silence swarms the room.
The beat of my heart pounds so intensely that even if she were speaking, I’d hear nothing other than the deafening thump thump thump.
Poppy’s shaky hand reaches her mouth. “Oh fuck.”
I tear my face away.
“Gigi, your wedding could happen any day—”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” I pant breathlessly. “It changes nothing.”
“So you’re just going to go ahead with it?”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
“When Harry finds out about this—”
No. No. No.
Fear forces me to shake my head madly. “Poppy, you can’t tell anyone.”
“Are you serious? He – we can do something to fix this.”
I spit out, “Yeah, like what?”
“Anything! Jamie can’t get away with this.”
“Well, when Harry’s house gets burned down, you learn to take threats pretty seriously.” I drop onto the chair beside the sink, defeated. Tears threaten to creep through, but I blink them away, my face contorting with the discomfort of baring feelings I’ve kept hidden for so long.
Poppy says softly, “It’s not your fault.”
I hum dismissively. “Mmm.”
“Gigi,” she says, sterner, drawing my head up. “It’s not your fault.”
I nod, if only to get her to stop talking, shifting awkwardly in my seat.
“Listen to me—”
“Poppy, stop it. Please.”
“It’s not—”
“IT IS!” I screech, the words sucking the air out of me.
“It is my fault! You want to know how I know?” My words tremble as I struggle to catch my breath.
“Because witnessing his pain was far worse than anything I’ve suffered these past few months.
I beat myself up about it daily. I’m the reason his house burnt down.
I’m the one who lost my sanity due to my own selfishness.
I’m the reason his brother died. And I’ll be the one to get him killed.
“You think that you hate me? You think Harry hates me? No one hates me more than I hate myself – I fucking promise you that.” I laugh, my voice shaking. “I only stopped inflicting more pain on myself because I’m too weak to deal with the physical pain from Jamie every day.”
I drop my head into my hands.
My voice comes out hoarse, barely above a whisper. “It’s all my fault.”
Silence passes over the room until a gentle palm rests on my shoulder. I withdraw my hands, turning to where Poppy’s now crouched at my side. She doesn’t laugh or walk away like I expected.
“No, Gigi,” she breathes. “It’s not.”
Her words sink in slowly, and I feel myself crumbling. I shake my head, tears blinding me despite my efforts to hold them back.
“It’s okay,” she whispers.
The cries start to choke me, sobs racking my insides. Poppy pulls me into her arms before I can protest, wrapping me in a hug that feels surprisingly gentle, her body stable against my trembling one. I stiffen at first, unused to any touch that isn’t meant to hurt. She doesn’t let go.
“It’s okay,” she whispers. “It’s not your fault.”
Her words hit like a wave, breaking through the wall I’ve built round myself. I collapse against her, my body shaking as sobs fall from my throat. The pain in my face fades, overshadowed by the rawness in my chest.