Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
ALEXANDER
Raw intensity and fierce longing wars with frustration and anger at my actions. I keep telling myself to stay away from Imogen yet, like a moth to the proverbial flame, the pull is too difficult to resist. I should be using my absence as yet another way to isolate her, but keeping my distance is growing more challenging by the day.
My refusal to allow her to work is just one more way for me to ensure her solitude, but the look on her face at my curt “No” caused an ache to settle on my chest. I recognize the physical sign all too well: guilt.
She’s smart and would no doubt make a great contribution to the building and architecture company, and Christian who runs that side of the business would take her on in a heartbeat, but working will expose her to far too many people and ruin my plans.
I’m getting close; I can feel it. It’s been almost a month since she arrived, and every day, her light dims that little bit more. She’ll capitulate soon. She has to.
My balls ache, and my dick chafes against my zip as I power down the stairs, taking them two at a time. I never should have gone to her rooms, but how was I to know she’d be in the shower with the bathroom door wide open when I went to swap my card for one I’d had specially made for her?
As soon as she stepped out, her curvy body wet and glistening, I should have walked away. Now I can’t get the image of her nakedness out of my mind. It’s scored there, a third-degree burn, and there’s no way for it to heal. I’m self-aware enough to know that every time I close my eyes, Imogen’s pert tits, rounded stomach, and flared hips are all I’ll see.
My father, for all his power, money, and contacts, couldn’t save Annabel. After she died, I vowed I’d never risk bringing a child into this world, knowing forces outside my control could take them from me at any moment. If I touch Imogen once, I won’t be able to stop, and I can’t let that happen. To put myself in a position where I could be responsible for a baby, the most vulnerable human being of all… No, I can’t do it. I won’t do it.
Outside, the skies are gray and heavy, although it’s still warm and humid. Maybe it’s the impending thunderstorm that’s giving me a headache, and once the rain arrives, my mind will clear, and I’ll know what to do. I hate feeling out of control. It takes me back to when I woke up in that foul, rat-infested cellar, my head muzzy with the aftereffects of the drug our kidnappers had used to steal us from our beds, and panic coursing through me at Annabel lying unconscious beside me.
My heart rate shoots up, and I pause, taking several deep breaths until it settles down. Maybe talking to Annabel is what I need to sort through the confusion. It’s been a while since I’ve visited her grave, and Mum’s, too. Shame fills me. My days may be full, from morning until night, but that’s no excuse to abandon them.
As I walk away from the house, something makes me look up at Imogen’s rooms. She’s standing in the window, stark naked, almost as if she knows the internal struggle I’m dealing with and wants to taunt me. To show me she’s the one with all the power.
She is, too. Fortunately for me, she doesn’t realize that, and I have to make sure she never does. Despite my raging attraction to her, the plan hasn’t changed. Once she’s gone from my life, at her request, my father will shift his focus to Nicholas and Elizabeth, and I’ll be off the hook. I doubt he’d force me to marry a second time, especially as I’ve made no secret of how difficult I find Imogen to manage. He’ll see the dissolution of our marriage as a failure on his part, and I have no intentions of putting him right.
The ache in my groin worsens the longer I look at her. Tearing my gaze away from temptation, I set off on the twenty-minute walk to the chapel, where Imogen and I married just a few short weeks ago. I head around the back to where the cemetery is, snaking through the graves of our ancestors until I reach the final resting place of my mother and sister.
Someone has left fresh flowers on both Annabel and Mum’s graves, and shame coats me once more that I’ve left it so long between visits. In the early years, we all came here regularly, but these days, we visit only on birthdays or at Christmas, and then it’s as a family.
I read the card on Annabel’s first, and my chest tightens.
I think about you every day. I didn’t know you, but you’ll always be my sister. ILY, Saskia xx
Saskia was only four when Annabel died, yet despite her lack of memories, Annabel and our mother are as real to her as they are to me. I read the card she left for Mum next.
I miss you. I wish you were here to guide me. Your beloved daughter, Saskia xx
It’s been years since I’ve cried, which makes the rush of tears somewhat of a surprise. I blink them away. Saskia is so self-sufficient and outwardly confident, I often forget how young she is. As her eldest brother, it’s on me to be more present in her life. If it’s guidance she needs, then I should offer that to her. She might find talking to me easier than Dad, especially about Mum. I’ve been so wrapped up in the business, my thirst for revenge, and in Imogen, I’ve forgotten my role as the eldest child. She’s due back from the business trip I sent her on to keep her away from Imogen on Friday night. I’ll take the opportunity to check in on her then.
“What should I do, Belle?”
Belle was the nickname only I used for my twin, and she called me Sasha, whereas the rest of my family use the much more common Xan. As twins, we’d had an extra special bond, and since those bastards took her from me, there’s a piece missing that will never be filled no matter how long I live. My hatred for those murderers still burns deep, even though they’re dead. It’s why I do what I do, why I kill those who rape and murder women. It’s the only time I get a few precious moments of peace.
A blob of rain lands on my shoulder, and within seconds, it’s teeming down. I take refuge in the chapel, but instead of bringing me solitude, all I can see is Imogen standing beside me at the altar, looking like a fucking dream. Yet the only word I’d offered her was that she looked “nice”.
This plan of mine may be the best for me, and for Imogen, but it’s only making me hate myself even more .
The downpour eases off, although it’s still raining when I emerge from the chapel. I turn up the collar on my jacket, put my head down, and make my way back to the house. I have meetings all afternoon and late into the night, yet when I enter the house, it’s not my office I head toward. I pull up the app that tracks Imogen’s phone. She’s still in her bedroom and, God help me, hopefully, still naked. I have no idea what I’ll say to her when I get there, but my feet take me in that direction, anyway.
I enter without knocking. She isn’t in the bedroom or the bathroom, nor the small sitting room adjacent. I look around the room and curse. Sitting on top of a book she must be reading is her phone. Goddammit. She’s done this on purpose, and even though she’ll be somewhere on the estate—the guards would know if she’d left the property—there’s a lot of ground to cover, a fact she’ll be well aware of.
Maybe it’s for the best. The last thing I need is to seek temptation. She’s probably done me a favor, and she’s made my next move easier, considering how unreliable she’s proved herself to be with the phone. She’s left me no option but to resort to more drastic measures. If modern tracking technology had been available when Annabel and I were taken, I truly believe my sister would be alive today.
My phone buzzes, the notification strip warning me my first meeting is in fifteen minutes. I’m still soaked through from the rain, so I head to my apartment to change.
Once dressed in a fresh suit, shirt, and tie, I comb my damp hair, but as I cross the living area that overlooks the stables at the rear of the house, something catches my eye.
I move closer to the window. From here, I can see over the rooftops of the stable blocks to the paddocks on the far side of the property that slope down the hill toward a stream that runs for miles. But it’s not the stream I’m interested in, nor the lush green fields. It’s the woman sitting on top of a horse while the groom I’ve already had warned to stay away from her is laughing and joking with my wife. There’s something about his demeanor that’s unsettling, and it’s not only because he’s touching something that belongs to me. He isn’t afraid of the consequences of disobeying a direct order.
My instincts prickle once more. I open my email and pull up Edgerton’s application form. I forward it to the same team I use to run background checks on my marks and ask them for a full sweep.
If William Edgerton has any skeletons in his closet, my team will find them.