Chapter 29 Hollie
HOLLIE
“I’m leaving Stu with you.” Maxim grasps my thigh and leans in close for a kiss.
I return it eagerly and lightly touch his cheek, caressing down to his jaw as our lips lightly weave together. “I’ll be fine.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion,” Maxim murmurs. “It’s the cost of my entertaining your parents until you get there.”
“You’ll have the time of your life, I promise.”
Maxim rolls his eyes slightly as we part, and while his touch lingers on my thigh, sliding to my hip and then my backside as I exit the car, there’s a pull of yearning in my chest. I should have asked him to come with me, and then we’d turn up to my parents’ party late but together.
By the time I mull this over, the sedan has pulled away.
Maxim and Toto melt into the night while Stu stands next to me, unable to look me in the eye.
We’ve not spent much time together in the weeks I’ve been with Maxim.
Other than his appearing to drive a car or watch from afar, the majority of our interaction came from our first night and he still hasn’t apologized.
If I didn’t know how tough these men were, I’d assume he’s scared.
“Shall we?” Treating Stu like an asshole is tempting, but I’d much rather be nice until the guilt of what he did makes him crumble. Smiling sweetly at him, we climb the steps to the manor and I knock lightly on the door.
“Invitation?” the doorman asks immediately as he opens the door.
“I’m Hollie Wolfe. I’m the entertainment.”
The man grunts and glances past me to Stu. “And him?”
“My escort.”
“Wait here.”
The door closes in my face. Looking back at Stu, my brows pinch. “Bit rude,” I murmur, clutching my shawl around my shoulders. “Making us wait out in the cold.”
Stu doesn’t reply but his gaze is upward as if he’s studying the building. His lips twist, but just as they part to speak, the door swings open once more and the doorman returns, apparently with a new attitude.
“Miss Wolfe! Welcome, welcome. Come in, come in. Mr. Havershire has been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”
“Am I too late?” I glance at my phone while stepping inside as my gut clenches. Did I get the time wrong? If I’ve messed up this man’s engagement, I’ll never forgive myself.
“Not at all. Right on time, actually,” the doorman assures me. “Your escort can wait here.”
Stu bristles immediately and lifts the violin case in his hands. “I stay with her,” he states dryly, finally breaking his silence. “Gotta protect the lady’s nails.”
The doorman doesn’t back down and he holds out his hand for the violin case. “I can take that.”
There’s a beat of tension between the two of them. Stu, under orders from Maxim, isn’t to leave my side. But causing a scene risks losing me this gig, and while Maxim, the man with infinite money, wouldn’t care, I do.
“It’s fine, Stu,” I assure him with a smile. “He’s new,” I say to the doorman. “But I do this all the time. I won’t be long, plus, you’ll still be able to hear me play.”
Stu, put on the spot, is left with no choice but to hand the case over. “I’ll be here,” he says and locks eyes with me. “Right here, understand?”
I nod quickly, then I’m swept away by the doorman. “Your escort is intense.”
“Like I said, he’s new. I think he used to be a bodyguard for some celebrity so he’s not used to the quieter, slower life of a musician.” I laugh softly.
“Odd that your line of work involves needing an escort.”
“Protecting my nails!” I waggle my freshly painted silver nails that match the silver dress I’m wrapped up in. “My hands are my most precious commodity.”
“I’m sure.” The doorman smiles politely and leads me into a small side room. “Mr. Havershire says you can get ready here. Someone will come and get you when it’s time for the dancing, and you know the cue for his proposal?”
“Yes. He’ll start making a small speech and when the rose petals fall, I switch songs.”
The doorman flashes a tight smile, hands me the violin case, and then he’s gone, leaving me to the quiet room that holds an odd chill in the air.
Removing my shawl, I drape it over the back of the lone chair in the room and breathe deeply to calm my nerves.
The faint, stale stink of smoke lingers in the air.
This must have been a smoking room back in the day.
As I unpack my violin and check it over, my phone buzzes rapidly multiple times.
[Stu] You good?
[Stu] You need anything?
[Stu] What room you in?
He texts like he speaks, abrupt and to the point. Rolling my eyes, I quickly text him back.
[Hollie] Relax, I’m fine. This’ll be over in no time at all.
[Stu] Didn’t answer my questions.
God, he’s irritating.
Turning my phone to silent, I resume checking my violin and wrap up just as a host from the party collects me for the dancing.
I’m escorted through the house and into a large ballroom filled with lots of happy, lightly drunk people wrapped up in the merriment of the party.
The room dazzles with Christmas decorations and a fantastical ice sculpture in the middle of the room.
No wonder this place is being kept so cool.
As I walk to the stage, I study the beautiful sculpture.
Two dolphins surge upward on a wave, glittering like they’re made out of crystal.
It’s stunning and even as it melts, the water drips off the wave and into a bowl below that’s dyed to look like a dark ocean.
Mr. Havershire must really love this girl.
I take my place on the stage next to the piano, and the DJ fades out as I start playing.
My nerves about playing in front of such a large crowd vanish within a few notes of music, and like every other time I’m on stage, it’s like I’m the only one who’s actually here.
Everyone else melts away just like the sculpture, and I pour my heart into playing.
Forty minutes later, my fingers throb slightly but thankfully, Mr. Havershire finally begins his speech so I switch from violin to piano.
He thanks everyone for coming, thanks people for their donations, and then the ceiling opens.
Glittering, shimmering fabric drifts away from the ceiling, and with it come more rose petals than anyone could ever count.
As instructed, I switch to the requested song.
Mr. Havershire vanishes from sight as he gets down on one knee and moments later, a woman squeals in delight.
Cheers follow and the crowd surges with excitement, congratulating the newly engaged couple.
It’s so beautiful and I pour more of myself into the performance until a light sheen of sweat clings to my skin.
By the end, I’m tired but the crowd is happy and the DJ resumes after I finish my set and quickly pack up my violin.
“Miss Wolfe?” As I’m climbing down from the stage, Mr. Havershire appears out of the crowd and smiles slightly.
“Mr. Havershire! Congratulations on your engagement.”
“Thank you. Your music was delightful.”
My cheeks warm as I wave him off. “It was nothing, really. I’m honored I could contribute to such a beautiful moment.”
“She’s happy, so I’m happy.” He clasps his hands together. “If you’d follow me, we can get your payment sorted.”
Tucking the violin case against my hip, I nod tiredly. “That would be amazing, thank you.”
Mr. Havershire leads the way out of the ballroom, but rather than returning to the old smoking room where I left my shawl and bag, he takes me deeper into the manor.
The liveliness from the party gradually fades and it’s not until Mr. Havershire opens the door to his study that it hits me how quiet this part of the manor is.
“Fifteen thousand it was, yes?” Mr. Havershire asks as he holds the door open for me.
I’m forced to walk past him into the study. He closes the door behind me and then ushers me toward the desk.
“Yes,” I reply. “Fifteen. A check would be perfect.”
“Of course.” Mr. Havershire moves around his desk and pulls a checkbook from the first drawer. “Rather old school, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’d need my phone for a wire transfer,” I say without thinking, then immediately kick myself. Telling him I don’t have my phone? What was I thinking?
The room is silent except for the scratch of his pen against the check. It’s cold here. Beyond the window, darkness spreads like an infinite, yawning abyss. While Mr. Havershire hasn’t done or said anything impolite, there’s a strange twitch at the back of my neck. It’s like I shouldn’t be here.
He writes slowly, swooping out his name letter by letter as if he can’t remember how to spell it. By the time he adds all the zeros, I’m ready to leave.
“Fifteen thousand. That’s a lot of money.” He stands and tears the check out of the book, fixing me with a strange look.
“It’s what we agreed.” I smile politely as my heart ticks up faintly. He’s looking at me like he knows me better than I know myself, and it’s uncomfortable.
“Yes. You perform for me and I pay you.” He walks around the desk and holds out his empty hand for me to shake, keeping the check just out of reach.
“Again, that’s what we agreed.” My smile loses all warmth, despite my efforts to keep it on my face. With the check out of reach, I have no choice but to lean for his hand. Shaking it, I reach for the check. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Havershire.”
Just as my fingertips brush the check, he curls his hand and pulls it away. “What if I’m unsatisfied with the performance?”
A chill runs down my spine. “You signed a contract with my agent,” I reply carefully. “Any problems should be taken up with her.”
“But she’s not here and you are. What if I want another performance?”
I try to jerk my hand away, but his grip remains like iron, growing tighter and tighter until my knuckles scream and grind together.
“Mr. Havershire—you’re hurting me!”
“Oh, am I?” He sounds surprised, then he suddenly lunges at me while jerking my hand toward his body at the same time.
I stumble into him with a yelp, colliding with his body.
He wraps one foot around my ankle and jerks my leg, forcing me to trip.
My violin slips from my grasp and within a second, he slams me face down onto the desk.
His body presses down so heavily onto mine that the edge of the desk cuts into my hip.
“What—get off me, what the fuck? Get the fuck off me!”
“I’m not satisfied,” Mr. Havershire growls in my ear, one large hand cradling the side of my head and forcing my cheek flat against his desk.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?
When I heard about you, I couldn’t believe it.
I said there’s no way someone could finally do it.
But then I found your agent and I realized the easiest way to get you was to let you walk right into my trap. ”
I can’t breathe. He leans his full weight onto me and he’s too heavy. Tears sting the corners of my eyes, my heart pounds so hard I can taste iron on the back of my tongue, and none of my struggles against him or the desk do anything to help me.
“Get off!” Panic surges like a wave inside me followed by a sickly chill that crawls over my shoulders and down my back. “Get off me!”
“No,” Mr. Havershire growls. “Like I said, I went to a lot of trouble for this!”
I’m barely able to understand what he’s saying but as his body shunts and grinds against me, one of my desperately scrambling hands knocks over a paperweight. It’s all I have. I grab it and throw my elbow backward, hitting something soft that forces Mr. Havershire to lean upward with a grunt.
Gasping for air, I twist my body and swing my fist, catching him on the side of his face with the paperweight. It smashes on impact, and he roars in pain as liquid and glitter rain down on his pristine suit, mingling with the blood from the glass shards now embedded in his face.
As he stumbles off me and hits the ground, I shove off the desk and sprint for the door, but his fist closes around my ankle and I fall with a scream. Twisting my body around, Mr. Havershire’s bloodied face glares at me, and as I raise my other leg to kick him in the face, I see it.
The heart tattoo on his wrist.
Wait.
When Zoe mentioned it, I knew I’d seen one before.
It has to be some twisted coincidence, right? But then the things Mr. Havershire was saying? There’s no time to think.
I slam my heeled shoe down into his face and his grip slips, allowing me to scramble back to my feet. Rather than leaving immediately, I turn and kick him as hard as I can in his crotch.
“You fucking rapist prick!” I scream down at him, kicking him again as hard as I can.
Then I run.
Out the door and down the corridor, trying to retrace my steps back to the ballroom. Tears flow down my cheeks, my heart pounds, and my head thumps from the surge of adrenaline, but I don’t stop until I crash into someone who grabs me so tightly that a scream of fear rips from me.
“No!”
“Hollie, it’s me!” Stu’s face swims before me and his usually irritated face melts briefly into concern. “Holy shit, what happened?”
“We have to leave,” I gasp, clutching at his arms. “Please get me out of here.”
“Hollie, what—”
“Take me home!” I yell, trying to shove him away, but he refuses to let me go.
“Alright. Alright, we’re leaving, but you have to tell me what happened!”
“No, no, it’s… please, please, we have to go. We have to go!” Stu can’t protect me, not here. If that man is who I think he is, then we both have to get out of here before he gets back on his feet.
Stu finally complies and with my purse and shawl clutched in his other hand, he whisks me right out of the manor.
It’s not until I’m in the car, fighting the sobs wrenching through me that I realize I left my violin behind in that fucker’s study.