Chapter 18 - Blair
My thoughts are spinning since I discovered everything in Simon’s office.
It looks like an obsessive downward spiral.
He has meticulous plans and prints outs and details that even I never knew about my stepbrother and his friends when I was younger.
So that is what he’s been doing this past week.
That’s why he hasn’t been sleeping or eating properly and hardly notices when I stand in the doorway of his office to say hello. I was getting worried about him.
I can’t believe he did all of that behind my back.
When we were in the Bahamas, I thought I made it clear to him that I wasn’t interested in revenge—that I wanted to leave it in my past where it belongs.
Why is he dragging it to the surface now—and why is he so hell-bent on hurting people?
I know what Anthony did was wrong, and I know he’s a terrible person, but it’s not my place to hurt him or ruin his life.
His own karma will find him soon enough without help from me.
If I spent my whole life hating him and wanting revenge, it would eat away at who I am.
There was a conscious choice made when I left it behind, when I left home.
A choice to leave it there in that small town and never look back.
I’m driving away from the mansion, toward the mall. My eyes constantly drift to the rearview mirror to make sure no one is following me. Simon doesn’t like it when I go out alone, but I’m being careful, and I’ll make sure I stay in safe places full of people. I need time alone to think.
On one hand, I want to scream at him for what he’s doing.
On the other hand, I understand he’s doing it because he cares about me. Maybe what he cares about is justice. Some twisted form of lawless justice.
I don’t know.
He’s clearly furious with Anthony, which is fair. I can’t blame him for that, but to take such extreme measures. This is my past, not his.
So, one side of me is angry with him, and one side is understanding. One part of me wants to yell, and another wants to pull him into a hug and tell him it’s okay, he can let it go.
Somewhere in between those two reactions, I have to find a way to talk to him without turning this into a massive fight.
If I had stayed in the mansion now, I feel like I would have exploded at him, and I don’t want that.
The mall is busy, and the noise and buzz of people are, thankfully, soothing my thoughts into a calmer state of mind. I made the right choice to get out of there and be alone for a bit.
Browsing stores and buying a few items here and there makes me laugh.
`I guess this is what they mean when they say retail therapy.
It was never something I could afford. I used to window-shop, not actual shop.
It’s funny, but it works. The little boosts of meaningless dopamine when you buy something you like are enough to distract you from something that’s bothering you, even if it’s a temporary solution.
After an hour of roaming around, I feel so much better and decide it’s time to head home and speak to Simon. Then maybe we can get some dinner after that. My stomach is starting to growl from hunger.
My body is lighter, no longer clouded with anger, when I turn back toward the exit where I parked. The shopping bags swing back and forth in my hands.
But as I turn, I notice a man in a dark suit with his eyes locked onto me.
My heart stops for a second. There is something eerie about him.
He seems so out of place in the mall. Everyone else is wearing summer clothes.
Light fabrics, bright colors, even the ones who are in work attire are not headed to toe black and ominous like that.
A nervous laugh slips from my lips, and I shake my head, telling myself I’m being paranoid.
But as I move, the man follows.
It’s okay, I’ll quickly prove that I’m just overreacting.
I take a few unexpected turns, backtracking and going in a circle… and still he follows.
Not only that, but there are two of them now, and I don’t even think they are trying to hide it anymore. They are blatantly pursuing me.
Tension floods my body as panic sears my thoughts. What do I do? How do I get away?
They are waiting for you to leave. They’ll make their move in the quieter area of the parking lot outside.
Stay with the crowds, you’ll be safer.
Glancing back and forth, I try to work out where in the mall would be the most populated. The food court. I could sit right in the middle and call Simon to come and get me. He is going to be furious! He’s going to lecture me on being reckless and unsafe and never listening to him.
But I can’t worry about that now. Right now, all I have to do is stay away from those men and make sure I stay where the crowds are.
I walk quickly, but not so fast that it looks unusual. Crowds will keep me safe, but I also have no intention of putting other people in danger because of me.
My heart is pounding a steady, ominous beat, getting faster as my anxiety rises.
But I’m almost at the food court. I’m nearly at my disillusioned safety.
One glance behind me confirms that the men are still following with their eyes locked onto me. One of them has his hand beneath his jacket, clearly resting on a weapon that I can’t see.
Anxiety spikes, I want to move faster. Turning back to face forward, I walk straight into a massive, bulky figure. The man grabs me and pulls me into the nearest store, and instantly, I want to scream.
But within moments, I recognize his cologne and grab at Simon’s shirt as I look up at him.
“I’m being followed!” I say in a tight squeal of panic.
“I know. I saw them,” he growls angrily, shoving me protectively behind himself.
The two men in dark suits walk past the store, glaring at Simon with intent, scowls drawn across their faces.
Once they’re passed, Simon grabs me and drags me back out into the mall section, and we start moving toward the exit.
“We have to move quickly. I’m parked at exit seven. The car is armored, so all we need to do is get you in there, and you’ll be safe. If anything happens, you keep going, Blair. Do not stop!” He shoves the car keys into my back pocket. “In case you’re ahead of me,” he says.
He speaks as we move, keeping a tight grip on my hand to make sure I don’t lag behind. While he takes long walking strides, I have to jog to keep up.
I feel sick to my stomach. Tension crackles through my body, and I fight the urge to turn around and see how close the men are. Focus forward. Just get to safety.
We burst through the exit doors and into the harsh sunlight, which blinds me for a moment.
Simon pulls me even closer as we run faster now.
“Push the button,” he says with urgency.
I grab the keys from my back pocket and press the unlock button.
Ahead of us, it flashes orange lights.
“Simon!” A man’s voice bellows from the left.
Simon spins to face it and screams for me to keep running.
I glance to the left and see Jaco. He looks exactly the same as the photograph that was on Simon’s desk. My heart drops into the pit of my stomach when I notice the gun in his hand. In slow motion, he raises it, pointing it right at me, tracking my movements as I sprint toward the car.
“Jaco, stop!” Simon shouts in a dark rage.
A smile spreads over Jaco’s face.
I hear the shot. He has a silencer on, but I still hear it. It’s like a low thud. Pressure in my ears.
And I wait. I wait to feel pain. I wait for my body to register the impact of a bullet. I wait, but nothing happens. I know the drill, though. Shock makes people oblivious to being shot. I might not know I’m bleeding to death.
Glancing down at my body as I reach the car, I see no blood.
Confusion flickers against the fear. He must have shot Simon!
A scream bubbles in my throat, but as I spin toward Simon, I see he’s still running.
And Jaco is the one on the ground writhing in pain.
“You fucking asshole!” Jaco bellows, clutching his leg.
“Get in the fucking car!” Simon yells at me.
I leap into the car, and Simon is in a second later.
Tires scream against tar as he accelerates forward, racing out of the parking area. Two bullets hit the side of the car, but the armored shell protects us.
My heart is racing, my hands are shaking, and I look down at my lap, wondering how the hell I am still carrying my shopping bags. I thought I’d dropped them long ago.
My fingers are gripping the handles of the bag so tightly that it’s hurting me.
Slowly, I unwrap my grip and flex my fingers.
Simon takes corners at speed, and I get thrown back left and right in my seat. I don’t dare speak to him because he’s so focused on the road ahead.
It’s not until we are far from the mall and closer to home that I hear him take a breath.
When I look at him, his face is stiff but not scowling.
I’m too scared to say anything for fear of triggering his outburst, one I’m sure is coming soon.
He must be furious that I got us into that mess.
Simon stops the car in our driveway and turns off the engine. We’re safely within the gates of the estate. We’re home.
I sit in tense silence, waiting for the anger. Waiting for the lecture.
When he reaches for me, I flinch, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he pulls me into his arms and buries his face in my hair. “Are you okay?” he asks, flooded with concern. No anger. No outburst.
“I’m…I’m…” Surprise traps my words in my throat. “I’m fine,” I stammer.
“You’re not hurt? They didn’t reach you before I got there?”
I shake my head and push my face harder against his chest, snuggling into him. Safety.
“No, you got there before anything happened,” I say.
He leans back and brushes his hands over my arms and down my sides. “Are you sure, Blair? You aren’t hurt at all?”
I look up into his eyes, filled with care and soft, genuine concern.
It brings a smile to my face, and I lift my hand to cup it over his jaw. “Thank you for coming to get me. It was silly of me to go out alone. I thought I was being careful enough,” I say quietly.
He shakes his head. “This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault,” he sighs.
A long moment of silence stretches between us as we stare into each other’s eyes. I’m trying to read his expression. I’m trying to read his mind.
I bite my lower lip, wishing I knew what he was thinking. He looks deeply worried, deeply caring toward me. “I thought… I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispers. And in his words, I hear the pain of that fear.
My heart jumps in my chest when I recognize the expression on his face. It’s something more… something more intense.
And the reason I recognize it is because I feel the same thing.
I feel something real. Something pulling me toward him. Something that evolved from attraction and simple enjoyment of his company into a deeper, more meaningful emotion. Is it love? Is it… the emotions washing through me make me gasp in surprise.
Simon notices, and without hesitation, he cups his hand around my throat and pulls me into a kiss.
Our lips crash into each other, and he wraps his arms tighter around me. I gasp against his mouth, letting the trapped emotions free as he holds me in his embrace and kisses me with intensity I’ve never felt before.
Simon reaches back, pushes his door open, pulling me with him, he climbs out of the car and carries me toward the mansion.
We don’t make it upstairs and end up in the living room as he drops me onto the sofa and lies his body over mine, still kissing me, his hands running over my body with desperate want.
His fingers tug at my clothes, pulling my top over my head and tossing it aside.
I arch against him and moan softly when he rubs his cock against me through his pants.
A frantic need takes control of me, and I start ripping his buttons open to push his shirt off his shoulders. Our kiss becomes fiercer, his lips pressing harder into mine.
He pulls me onto his lap as he sits up, never letting go of me, keeping me close against him.
Piece by piece, we strip clothes from our bodies until we are naked in each other’s arms. My legs are spread over him with my chest pressing against his.
He brushes his fingers up my spine, sending a warm shiver racing over me, then knots his hands in my hair and, with gentle force, pulls my head backward.
His lips trace delicate lines over my throat as he rocks his hips upward, rubbing his engorged cock against my pussy.
I moan, digging my fingers into his shoulders, desperate to feel him inside me.
I’ve never felt anything like this before in my life. This kind of need. This kind of gravity toward someone. My mind is a clamor of demands. Demands to have him.