Chapter 43
chapter forty three
think, baby, think
My whole world was dark.
It was mainly because of the blindfold tied too tightly around my head. My mask had been torn off the second Oscar delivered me to a van waiting in the alley behind the ballroom, and a part of me couldn’t help but mourn the loss of it.
The restraints keeping my hands pinned firmly behind my back didn’t help either. They’d gone numb a while back; not that having them free would help me figure out where I was going, but it felt like yet another part of me had been cut off.
Whatever was blinding me muffled every sound, too.
So, like I said—my entire world was dark.
I tried wiggling the blindfold loose and managed to spring one ear free before my neck cramped, but it was enough to feel a fraction less helpless. Not that Oscar and whoever was driving were saying much, but I’d heard them call Marcus about ten minutes after we set off.
Where you broke her heart.
That’s what they’d said to him. To Marcus.
And that’s what made me think we were heading for the Romano headquarters.
It was the only place that made sense. If Oscar had been the one stalking me, of course he’d know.
Or maybe Marcus had told him. I didn’t know why we were going there, and every time I tried to think about it, my brain hurt from how little it made sense.
Marcus didn’t talk a lot about Oscar, but when he did, it was always good things. Kind things. Nothing that would convince me he’d betray him like this.
Curiosity got the best of me, so I shuffled closer to where I thought they could hear me.
“Oscar,” I panted, catching my breath. “Why are you doing this?”
He didn’t answer.
Worth a shot.
I stayed silent for the rest of the ride until we came to a stop, lurching forward and smacking my head against the bottom of the van.
Pain bloomed sharp and hot. I groaned as my body contorted, every part of me on fire—my hands burning, my face throbbing.
And if I didn’t find a way out of this, I could feel my heart breaking free from my chest.
Think, Cora. How are you getting out of this?
Marcus' voice was all I could hear, and the day he'd spent training me was all I could see. I listened closely, running through every second of that day in slow motion.
What part of you isn't mine right now?
My mind.
As quietly as I could, I shuffled closer to where I felt Oscar was, clearing my throat.
"Oscar, you don't have to do this. We-we can just turn around and sort this out like adults.
Marcus thinks the world of you, and I wouldn't want me or anything else to change that.
" I didn't know whetehr he was listening, but I had to try.
"I know you're a good person. Otherwise you wouldn't dedicate your life to helping people like me.
Which is why I know that there's some part of you that is hating yourself for doing this right now. "
There was no noise in the car except for the soft tread of the tyres and the sporadic growl from the egine. In my head Oscar was considering what I'd said, and when I heard something ahead of me shuffle and cold fingertips graze my cheeks to lift off my blindfold, I thought I'd done it.
His smile told me I'd thought wrong.
"I thought you were a smart girl. But apparently you're not smart enough to use different tactics than the one my own brother taught me to use." His wicked smirk cast shadows over his face. Over me. "You wouldn't like to see the inside of this mind anyway."
In a flash my world was dark again, and for the rest of however long I was stuck there, I didn't utter a word.
Five minutes later, and the van door slid open, metal squealing, and the night air hit my face.
Someone grunted a laugh before hands gripped me, tugging me upright and out into the cold.
“You’re hurting me!” I yelled—almost instantly a hand covered my mouth.
“Cry about it later,” Oscar's voice snapped. “Now move.”
Two sets of hands clamped down on my arms, cutting off what little circulation I had left, and I put one foot in front of the other, letting them guide me wherever we were going.
Easier said than done with zero control of my limbs and wearing a dress that now felt ridiculous.
I knew we were inside when the clack of my heels shifted from pavement to the grand echo of marble. In the elevator, I recognised the metallic sound of steel. It confirmed we were heading for the roof. Where Marcus—whether he meant to or not—had broken my heart.
It made me feel like I’d already lost whatever battle this was going to be, the fact that they knew to bring me here.
Like they’d planned this down to my weaknesses.
First, they chose today—the day I’d been waiting for ever since I found out about Nouvelle.
Then they brought me here, where two weeks ago I’d been in this very same elevator with Marcus, knowing he’d asked me on a date.
Which meant that maybe the feelings I’d been trying to hide were feelings he also had.
And bad things came in threes. That was just universal. So I stood still, silent, waiting for whatever else they were about to throw at me.
The elevator dinged. I was dragged out, then up the same stairs I’d climbed once before, until we were on the roof, the cold October breeze cooling my cheeks.
Relief flickered—and died the second I heard another voice.
“What time do you call this?”
It sounded far away, but I heard every word, dripping with an accent that was so familiar. Like mine, only deeper. Rougher.
“Blame Manhattan traffic,” an unfamiliar voice replied—whoever it was still had a hold of me.
Footsteps circled me. “She’s here. That's all that matters,” said Oscar.
“And him?” asked the new voice. I still couldn’t place it. But it was grating on me how familiar it was.
“He’s on his way,” Oscar grunted, closer now.
“Good. You can let her go.”
The pressure around my arms vanished instantly, though the pain lingered and my hands were still bound. Footsteps came closer. It felt like the Jaws theme in real life—my heart thudding louder with each step. My lip quivered. My eyes stung with the promise of tears.
“You’re crying,” the voice said, nearer now. “I promise you’re okay. No need for tears.”
My fear burnt into anger. “No need for tears?” I repeated through gritted teeth. “I’ve been abducted, blindfolded, handcuffed, and dragged onto a rooftop by strangers. And you think I’m not going to cry?”
The voice hummed. “I can see how that might upset you, yes.” Footsteps edged closer. “But try and hold them back, just for a second. I don’t want anything to ruin this.”
Before I could say anything, the pressure around my head loosened. The fading sunset poured into my eyes. They were cloudy at first, but the more I blinked, the clearer everything became.
Including the figure in front of me.
The figure I knew.
The figure I’d laughed with.
The second his eyes fell on me, my breath quickened, my heart pulsed, and my mind turned into a black hole of questions.
“Arthur?”
Arthur.
The man who’d become a regular at Flo’s. The one I’d given a Bakewell tart on the house the first time he came in. The same night I got the very first message from Jamie. No, not Jamie. Oscar.
God, my head was a mess.
But it was him. There was no doubt.
He smiled as my name passed his lips. “Hello, Cora.”
I glanced around. The rooftop looked bleaker without the lanterns and fairy lights. Someone I didn’t recognise stood off to my left, with Oscar a few paces behind and just to the right of Arthur, who took centre stage.
Saying his name in my head only confirmed he was here. Standing in front of me.
“You…” My head shook with deluded misbelief. “This was… you?”
His head bobbed, a little too proud of himself. “Well, mostly. But I had help.” He peered back at Oscar. “You’ve officially met now, right?”
Oscar’s smarmy smile curled. “Oh, we have.” He stared right at me. “Nice to finally put a face to a phone number.” His shoulders shrugged like all of this made him giddy.
I shook my heavy head. “Why?” My face scrunched, anger burning through my stare. “Why would you do this?”
Oscar gave an impatient shrug. “The same reason you kissed that string bean in London.” He shook his head like it was obvious. “To get back at my brother.”
My face crumpled, sadness cracking my voice. “Get back at him for what? I don’t understand.”
“We’ll explain everything,” Arthur assured me, reaching for my tear-streaked cheek.
I backed away.
He almost looked offended. “We’re not here to hurt you, Cora. In fact, I’m here to get to know you.”
My brows knitted. “Get to know me? You’re a stranger. I don’t know you. And I don't want to know you.”
“Oh, you know me.” He nodded, his eyes softening. “You just won’t remember the last time we talked.” His head tilted. “Actually, it was me talking; you were gargling and mumbling. You didn’t speak your first word until after I left.”
My eyes widened.
Arthur’s narrowed.
“Although, ironically, Susannah told me your first word was ‘Dada.’”