Chapter 45
OLIVER
A Little Bird Told Us ...
it’s business as usual for our ditched billionaire London beau as he returns to his swanky office. But what happened to his American vet?
One man jilted at the altar. One man’s proposal publicly rejected at a charity gala.
Is it her? Is it them?
One thing’s for sure, this Little Bird has to admire her style of public breakups.
#EliverNoMore
Like a scab on the skin I can’t help but pick, I scour the digital news daily, wondering if I’ll find a hint of her. In the days that follow, the tabloid press seems to haunt me, hanging around outside the office, shouting my name as I leave the hotel. It used to be I found A Little Bird’s inclusions a trial, but those now seem like simpler days.
A sordid love triangle and a stately home? The media has made a meal of our lives.
“I see you’ve shaved.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, not bothering to look up. “I decided a beard wasn’t really my style.” At first, a beard was easier. Especially as I couldn’t stand the sight of my own face, but it made me so itchy, I wanted to rive it off.
“Agreed.” Matt’s feet sound against the carpet, the leather barely creaking as he lowers himself to a chair on the other side of my desk. “It’s not like it hid how shit you look anyway.”
I lift my eyes from my laptop. “I’m not in the mood for another pep talk.”
“Good. I’m not in the mood for giving one. And that was an insult.” A pause. “Any news?”
“News?”
“Don’t be an eejit.”
“No.” I inhale until my lungs ache. “No news. Just old news. She left.” She left me. I can still see her walking from the gallery, head held high, the horde parting like the Red Sea for Moses. Then closing over her absence.
Love is the most exquisite path to self-destruction.
Why do I miss her so much?
Matt clears his throat, and I blink, coming back to the present. It’s really shit here.
“It’s what you do now that might make the difference,” he begins.
“The fact that she left says it all. She doesn’t want to be with me. And let’s face it.” My seat creaks as I lean back in it. “Who would blame her?”
I fucked up so many times, and then I let her leave when I should’ve chased her. I let Mandy lead me off the stage and into a private room. Brandy was what was needed. He even muttered something to the butler about sweetened tea. I came back to myself suddenly. I wasn’t catatonic, but I was fucking dazed. But I wasn’t about to let her run away, not without a discussion. Not without reminding her of my love. I found Ted had taken her back to the hotel, and by the time I reached the place, she was already gone.
Afterward, I learned about the auction lot. None of Mandy’s staff could explain where it came from. But that wasn’t what made Eve run.
She would’ve wanted to throat punch me first.
The chair creaks again. There was Northaby, of course. Did her conscience ultimately get the better of her? The irony is, if she’d waited just a few more minutes ...
No. There would’ve been little point if she’d already come to the conclusion she didn’t want me.
“You’re as thick as pigs’ shit.”
“What was that?” I blink, my focus returning to the office once more.
“Is that a letter opener?” Matt half stands, swiping the antique silver knife from my desk. “I’ll just look after that for a wee while.” I frown as he shoves it down the side of the chair.
“You think I might stab you?”
“More like you might stab yourself when you hear what I’ve got to say. I can’t believe your plan is just to sit here and mope.”
“I’m not moping. I’m working.”
“I switched your Wi-Fi off hours ago. Unless you’re conducting business telepathically, you’re fucking moping.”
“What am I supposed to do? You tell me, because I’ve tried—I’ve looked for her! I went to the clinic, to Nora’s, the house in Chelsea she’d stayed at before. The clinic wouldn’t help, Nora’s place appears to be on lockdown, and the one time I managed to get the old woman by phone, she was most succinct in her reply when she told me to ‘ fuck right off .’ And the girl at the Chelsea house just muttered something about not being Eve’s messaging service before she slammed the door in my face.”
“So, hire someone to track her down?” Matt shrugs. “Discreet, like.”
I consider lying. But what would be the point? So I debase myself.
“I did. Almost immediately. She got a cab to Heathrow Airport, and it seems she got on the first flight she could find, which was to Dubai. From there, she flew into Singapore, then on to Brisbane. Where she is now, I’m not sure.”
“But you’re going to find out, right?”
“I haven’t made up my mind yet.” I’m torn between wanting to find her at all costs and being conscious of the fact that, though she said she never wanted to see Atherton again, she didn’t leave London to avoid him. Moving to the other side of the earth isn’t exactly subtle.
“Pussy.”
I look up to find Fin walking into my office. “Oh, good,” I mutter with a glower. “Tweedle Dumber.”
Ignoring me, he takes the seat next to Matt. “You can’t just let her go. You’ll regret it, just like you did Lucy.”
I glower his way, wishing Matt had left the letter opener. “Are you suggesting Eve has gone somewhere to take her own life? Because that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” Not Eve. But then again, I would never have imagined that my sister would ... I shiver as though someone is dancing on my grave.
No, Eve would be more likely to take a knife to my throat.
“That’s not what I meant. Lucy was ill. Her actions were a cry for help.”
“It wasn’t a cry for help. She tried to kill herself. A distinct difference, I think.”
“You’re not paying attention. You argued. Shit was said. Ultimately you let her walk away, which is what you’ll regret with Eve too.”
“I sent Lucy away,” I growl, my fingers gripping the arms of my chair. “I made her leave, and I don’t need reminding, because I live with the regret of my actions every single day.” I swore then that love wasn’t worth it, because it gives another the power to break you. A lesson my poor sister had to learn on two fronts.
“Made. Let.” Fin makes a weighing motion with his hand. “What does it matter? The result is still the same. You, torturing yourself.”
“He fears love. It makes him think of loss.” Matt’s stab in the dark hurts like fuck.
“Get the fuck out of my office,” I mutter. “Both of you.” I’m tired of this. I miss her so much—her animated face, her laughter. Her fucking temper.
But she left, and that was probably for the best. She abandoned her ring, her tiara, and anything with a link to me. She also took the dog. I didn’t even want him, yet I feel his loss badly. The suite is so empty. Just like my fucking life.
“Did you ever tell Eve what happened with Lu?” Matt cants his head.
I shake my head. “I used her own reluctance against her, her own pretense of not giving a fuck, because I couldn’t bring myself to admit what happened.” Lucy was truly devastated, heartbroken over that ... waste of skin and bone. Atherton used her, then discarded her—he didn’t even have the kindness to lie about why. She was a means to an end, and when she confessed that to me, I blew up. Said things I shouldn’t have. Made her leave. If I’d had even a hint of how fragile her mental state was, I would’ve tied her to a chair. Locked her in a room. Gotten her to see a doctor before ...
“It wasn’t your fault,” Fin says softly.
“I failed her.” Like I failed Eve in so many ways.
“That’s so not true,” he says wearily, rubbing his cheek with his hand. “You were angry, that’s all.”
“I told her I never wanted to see her again.” Anger blinded me. Lucy was more than my PA. More than my sister. I trusted her judgment, her business acumen. I withheld nothing from her. She knew about the tender, knew my bid would blow the others out of the water. She had no idea of the ramifications of sharing this with Atherton. But that didn’t matter to me, not in that moment. “Because I’m a bastard who couldn’t see beyond the money I was about to make.”
“You’re just a hothead,” Matt puts in. “Lu knew that. She would’ve realized you didn’t mean it if she hadn’t been in the middle of a mental health crisis.”
“It’s depression that kills, not idiot brothers,” Fin adds.
“But I should’ve realized she was on the edge—I should’ve known way before she’d gotten to that point.”
“She didn’t even tell her doctor,” Fin says, throwing up his hands. “You and Lucy are so alike, it’s fucking scary. Never show weakness. Never admit you might need help. You didn’t break Lucy or drive her to hurt herself, asshole.”
“I wasn’t there for her.” My words bleed. I bleed. Hurt and anguish and anger spill from me. “Don’t you understand? I wasn’t there to stop her from swallowing those pills.”
“This is old fuckin’ ground. If Lucy was here, she’d slap you for being such an idiot.”
“Was there anything in Mortimer’s note?” Matt demands. “About the house? The animals? Anything?”
I shake my head. She took the time to write him a note, scribbled on a piece of hotel note paper.
I’m sorry.
Oliver was never going to keep the animals. Please forgive me for my part in this. I have no excuses. I wish I could stay to tell you myself.
Take care, Mandy.
“There was nothing in it for me.”
“Well,” Fin says, “I suppose she wasn’t pissed off at him.”
“The animals weren’t supposed to be part of the plan. Northaby was meant to be made into a high-end country hotel. The luxury crowd expects a pillow menu, spa days, swimming pools. Cocktails on the terrace and long walks through lush woodlands that don’t involve outrunning Sumatran tigers.”
“But then you changed your mind.” He holds out a hand, palm to the ceiling, like his words are a comfort oh-so reasonable.
I changed my plans for her—to have her look at me with something like admiration, maybe. And now ... “Now I own a monstrous great house with fucking safari park in the back garden. Do you have any idea how much their food bill is?”
“You need something to spend your billions on,” Fin says with a laugh.
“I don’t fucking want the place!” Not without her. “I didn’t want it in the beginning—I just wanted Atherton’s miserable head on a plate!”
“Ah, sure, but you might enjoy it,” Matt says tugging his ear.
“He could get a ringmaster’s hat and a red tailcoat,” interjects Fin.
“That’s a circus, not a zoo, thick arse.”
“It’s a fucking safari park!” I yell, my sanity hanging on the thinnest of threads.
“But it wasn’t the house, was it?” Fin says casually, curling his finger to flick invisible lint from his pants leg. “I know we call you the devil, but I really didn’t have you pegged as the type to sneak property out from under a senior citizen.”
Mandy? I frown, not sure what he’s talking about. But then I do understand. Did I leave the paperwork on my desk? “What do you know about this?”
“More than I want to,” he mutters. “Especially given the crowd outside.”
“What crowd?” But I’m already on my feet, moving toward the window. It’s hard to see what’s going on down there, but someone seems to be waving something white with red lettering. “Is that a placard?”
“Multiple,” Fin says. “Some of them even have the correct spelling.”
I take the stairs two at a time, my employees scattering like beetles exposed from under a rock as I reach the marble floor of the foyer. Almost skidding across it.
“What’s going on out there?” I ask the receptionist.
“I’m not sure, Mr. Deubel, but Andrew is trying to find out. He said not to call the police yet.”
I nod curtly, recognizing the pattern of footsteps behind me. Fin and Matt, no doubt come to watch the circus. Maybe I should’ve gotten those ringmaster’s tails, I think as I pull the door open.
“Down with the bourgeoisie. Down with the oppressive class! Down with the bourgeoisie. Down with the oppressive class!” On and on the chant goes.
“They could’ve chosen a catchier slogan,” Fin says over my shoulder.
As it turns out, there are a dozen or so protesters marching up and down in front of the office, mostly younger people in sweatpants and hoodies, scarves pulled over their faces as though they’re highly wanted criminals. They seem oblivious to the open door, to us standing in front of them, perplexed, as they merrily chant on.
“ Peace, bread, land ,” Matt reads. “Was that the name of the bakery on the corner?”
“Lenin, actually. And that one over there was something Stalin said.” Fin points to a placard made from a broomstick and one side of a cardboard packing box, with red paint that dripped like blood before drying. “Though it’s supposed to read, You cannot make a revolution with silk gloves , not slik gloves .”
“Oliver?” Matt turns to me. “Have you been pissing the Communists off?”
“Not so I’d realized,” I answer, still scanning the crowd. “Though I’m not sure Fuck dis noise is part of The Communist Manifesto .”
“It would make more sense for one of them to read Down with Atterir .” Fin slides me a look.
“It isn’t what you think,” I mutter with a frown. “Why didn’t you mention it before now?”
“Not my circus,” he grunts.
“Safari park,” Matt corrects. “I think what he means to say is he thought you were cleverer than this.”
“Clearly not,” I say, turning back. “Though I’m bright enough to know that one is meant for me.” I point to a placard and the holder with a familiar face:
NEXT TIME I’M brINGING THE LLAMA
“That’s a rare old set of balls,” Matt says, impressed at the sign’s accompanying artwork. “Very ... anatomical. Is this about llamas at Northaby?”
I shake my head. “My planned castration, I imagine.” I smile weakly at Yara. In answer, she holds her placard higher and chants louder. She wouldn’t speak to me when I called at the clinic. Haunted, more like, waiting for her to arrive for a shift.
That day, as Yara had climbed from her car, I almost sprinted to reach her before realizing she was pulling a long stick from the back seat. As she brandished it, she was kind enough to deliver her insults in another language, though probably for the benefit of the clinic’s clients, rather than me.
Next to her stands Nora, and on the end of a loose leash is my former fluffy bedmate. Not the one I’m in love with.
“Down with the bourgeoisie. Down with the oppressive class!” Nora’s voice carries above the rest as she spots me looking. In the place of a placard, Bo wears a doggy-size sandwich board with the words of their chant.
“Bo! Hey, boy!” I call out, patting my knees enthusiastically. One woof , a strong pull, and he’s free, bounding over, his tongue lolling happily. I laugh aloud—it feels strange—as he heads straight for me ... then dodges to run right by me. I feel my expression fall. Rejected by a fucking dog. But then something warm hits the back of my calf.
“What the hell!” Matt pushes away, Fin following.
“Of course he would.” I nod, not bothering to move as Bo uses the back of my leg as a lamppost.