Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
TELL ME A SECRET
Scarlet
The plane shuddered, coming in to land on the island that made Hong Kong’s airport. On my first trip here, I’d stared wide-eyed out of the window, watching the sea rush closer at the end of the runway. Now, I slumped in my seat, ignoring the spectacular city lights, tired and blue.
Our long flight had been delayed, and we’d circled Hong Kong for over an hour.
I was desperate to stretch my legs and to get my phone back online so I could find out how the baby’s visit had gone.
I’d dozed on the twelve-hour journey and dreamt about the scene at the castle—Ally with his baby, his family and my sister cooing over her.
I hated myself for missing it.
Maybe I’d made a mistake in choosing this trip over that crucial first meeting. Last night, it had seemed like the logical step. I was in work mode, pushing my career. I was also in warrior mode, planning takedowns for a man who’d hurt my… My Ally.
I hoped to God that he’d understand.
The moment we touched down, I fished my phone from my bag. In the next seat, Dad raised an eyebrow.
“Your generation is glued to their devices.”
“True.” I switched it on.
“Are you waiting on messages from a boy?” Dad teased.
In all my encounters with Ally, I hadn’t mentioned a word of it to my father.
Not even after the accident when he knew we’d been in contact.
We led such busy lives that, even though we lived in the same house, we rarely ate a meal together or were even home at the same time.
During the weeks I’d been working around the country on my internship management tour, I’d made it home once or twice a week at most.
I liked it that way, and my parents never put any pressure on me to be around them or even to live at home if I didn’t want. But that didn’t mean Dad would look kindly on what I needed to tell him.
When I’d been around sixteen, on a visit to the castle, he’d taken me aside and told me that Ally McRae was the worst kind of waster.
Lazy and vain, and interested in nothing but sleeping around.
He hadn’t said the same about Wasp, or Gordain, but maybe he’d sensed my lack of interest in the other brothers.
I wasn’t a teenager anymore.
Dad and I had worked hard at keeping a positive relationship, but that didn’t mean I was above testing it.
“I might be,” I replied to my father.
He gave an amused grumble and reached over to pat my hand. “But you’re happy to be here, aren’t you? This is what you’ve been talking about for a year. Longer.”
“I am! Hugely. Sorry, I’m tired.” Tired, or even unsure. I couldn’t tell.
My phone woke, and my alerts spat onto the screen. Multiple messages from Ally pinged, one after the other.
My words stalled as I listened through my headphones. Something was wrong.
Where are ye?
Did ye get a later flight?
Scar? Are ye coming?
I opened the app. There, below them all, recorded but still in the message bar, was my explanation. It hadn’t sent.
Oh no. No!
As fast as I could, I hit send then, with shaking fingers, I typed a new message. Dad was too close to make this a voice message which somehow seemed even more insulting.
Sorry! I tried to let you know I couldn’t make it, but my message didn’t send. I’ve had to go away on business. I didn’t know until last night. I’m so, so sorry.
His visit would be long over. It was nearly ten PM in Hong Kong which was… Mid-afternoon in Scotland? I couldn’t remember the time conversion.
No reply came.
The air stewards stopped at the end of our aisle, helping us with our luggage. Dad eyed me but didn’t ask anything more, but I was grateful for his arm as we walked through the terminal.
I huddled into my father and worried about what Ally thought of me.
At the arrivals barrier, a man held aloft a sign reading Storm Enterprises.
“Someone sent a car for us.” Dad glanced back to Philip who followed behind with Toby.
“I talked to Mr Jones’s PA,” Toby piped up. “They were very keen. It looks like we’re being ushered in with style.”
Dad puffed up. Flattery worked for him.
The driver confirmed he represented NPL Corps, and we were led to a large town car then shuttled to our hotel. Toby had arranged a meeting for the following morning, and the chauffeur confirmed it with a bow.
“Get some sleep, child. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow and lots to decide.” Dad kissed my forehead then disappeared into the bar, no doubt needing a nightcap before he could sleep.
On heavy legs, I left to find my room. A porter leapt to take my case, but I waved him off, pressing a tip into his hand despite not taking up the service. I wanted to be alone.
Every piece of me teetered on an edge made of exhaustion, unease, and confusion.
Unease, because I’d half expected Jeremiah Jones to be waiting for us, and confusion because I’d still heard nothing back from Ally. My chest ached imagining him waiting on me and being disappointed.
Miserable, I perched on the edge of my bed and video called him.
He didn’t pick up.
I tried again. No answer.
It felt just like when he couldn’t pick up after his accident, and I swallowed down fear and called my sister instead.
“Scarlet?” Mathilda answered, weariness in her voice.
I clutched the phone tight to my ear. “Hey. I’m in Hong Kong with Dad. We just arrived at the hotel. But I’m worried because Ally didn’t know I’d miss the visit with the baby. My message didn’t send. He must’ve thought I let him down.”
Sounds of shuffling came, then my sister’s voice returned. I guessed she’d left the room for privacy. “The visit with Cait went ahead, and yes, he was expecting you.”
“Cait? He named her?” I sank back on the starchy sheets, dismay winding in my gut. Such a pretty name.
“He did. Caitriona. It was a beautiful visit, and the whole family welcomed her.” Mathilda paused. “He was hurt, Lottie. He asked me where you were, and I had to tell him you’d gone away with Dad.”
I rubbed my sternum. No one else called me Lottie, and Mathilda usually only did so when she needed to impress a point on me.
“I have to ask,” she said. “Are you two seeing each other?”
“I can’t answer that. Is he there? He’s not picking up his phone.”
My sister sighed. “I don’t think he’s going to talk to you right now. Today was special. He announced the baby’s name, she met us all for the first time. I think he really wanted you there…”
Yes, it was special, and I’d missed it. “God, I fucked up. I downplayed it in my head, then I started worrying about Dad’s health, and before I knew it, I was in the air.” I wasn’t about to tell her the other reason I got on that plane—the revenge I sought on Ally’s behalf.
“Ouch,” my sister grumbled. Then she groaned.
“Are you okay?”
“I’ve had a low ache for the past hour or two.”
I sat up. “Is it labour? You know Dad will freak out—”
“No, no,” she interrupted. “The baby isn’t due for another ten days. You’ll be back in time. Don’t tell him or he’ll panic.”
I snorted agreement. He would. He’d panicked for the entirety of Mathilda’s pregnancy with the twins, and she’d told him he had to chill for this one.
Mathilda blew out a breath. “Right, here’s my thoughts.
First, you need to make this up to Ally, so send him a proper message explaining all that you just explained to me.
If he cares about you, and I think he does, he’ll calm down.
It’ll just take time. Second, Dad is his own man, and he’d rather die than think you were doing something just to please him.
I’m not being dramatic. After the horrible years we had before he got over his anger at Mom, he’s a new man.
All he wants is your happiness, so tell him what you really want.
And lastly, didn’t you want to go to Hong Kong?
Where’s that in your reasoning? Hasn’t this been your plan for a while? ”
“It was. I wanted to test that, too, by coming out here.”
There was a pause. “I’ll miss you if you go,” my sister said. “You might not get to visit the Highlands all that often, but when you do, it’s wonderful. I can’t imagine barely seeing you for years.” Then she groaned again. “Ouch, baby, hush now.”
“I know. I feel the same. Love you,” I murmured.
She said the same and we hung up.
In one last desperate attempt, I called Ally, this time leaving a simple message, telling him again how sorry I was. Then I stared at the ceiling, no clue whether I was coming or going or what was the right path forward. This week, I’d decide.
The next morning, showered, in a sharp suit, and with murder on my mind, I joined the rest of my party, travelling in the glass elevators to the conference suite.
Dad and Philip chatted in low tones about the preliminary conversation. Toby winked at me—he wanted to go to a bar this evening and had been messaging me since I’d got up—and kept pace as we crossed the white marble floor to the room.
Then we were there, and two men stood, hands out to be shaken. Zhou Lua greeted Dad first, and Jeremiah Jones smiled on. I stared at him. At around fifty, he had no grey in his brown hair, but a salt-and-pepper beard clung to his chin. He looked like every other business man I’d ever worked with.
He came directly to me.
Oh fuck. I couldn’t shake his hand.
My skin crawled, and I forced a neutral smile but put my hands behind my back.
The man blinked then caught up and pulled the same pose. Smiling benevolently, he tipped his head in greeting. “Miss Storm, I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Ugh.
“Mr Jones,” I said. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“All good I hope!” he replied cheerfully.
I let my smile drop and didn’t answer. But he’d already moved on.
The meeting commenced and went as expected.
The men had similar business goals to Dad’s but were in a stronger position, already having a foot in the door.
Otherwise, I hardly listened. I stared at the man who thought drugging and molesting models was a fun weekend pastime and I plotted what I could do.
Yell at him and shame him?
Hire someone to grope him and see how he liked it?