Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
ALORA
“And then what happened?” Thomas frowns.
“Wait a minute, he turned up at dinner too?” Helene asks.
“Yes, and then Edward calls me and asks me to check my bag because he thought it was sus.”
“I did too, remember?” Thomas agrees, he taps his temple. “I’m telling you, that Pascal is a fucking weirdo.”
We’re having dinner in a café as we dissect my weird and wacky weekend in Paris.
It’s crowded and the television is playing the nightly news up on the wall in a corner.
“But then, he doesn’t talk to me.” I shrug.
“Who?”
“Edward.”
“Prescott randomly calls you but doesn’t talk about anything?” Thomas frowns.
“So he only called to ask about the bug?” Helene is chewing her thumbnail as she listens.
“Yeah.” I shrug.
“He’s so weird.” Thomas frowns. “Like really fucking weird.”
“I know,” I scoff. “So everybody in my life at the moment is fucking weird.”
“Except me.” Thomas widens his eyes.
“You’re the weirdest, have you checked out your job lately.”
He chuckles and pinches his fingers as if to say little bit.
“Oh my god.” Helene’s eyes widen.
“What?”
“Look.” She points up at the television and we all turn to see a picture of the hospital, the subtitles read.
In breaking news..
Monaco Councilor Pascal Deschanel has been found unconscious in the parking lot of the council chambers.
He had been savagely beaten and has multiple broken ribs.
The cameras of the parking lot had been disabled and this appears to be a targeted attack.
“Oh my god,” Helene whispers as her eyes come to me. “You don’t think….”
“No….” I put my hand over my mouth. “He wouldn’t.”
“Of course he did,” Thomas snaps. “Nobody fucks with Prescott and gets away with it. Everybody knows that.”
“No, surely not.” I glance between the two of them. “You don’t think.”
“But honestly.” Helene smiles, all gooey-eyed. “How is he so fucking hot?”
“Beating my ex-boyfriend is not hot.”
“He was tracking you,” Thomas gasps. “Do not blame Prescott for this, I would have done the same.” He sips his drink with a shrug. “Probably not as well, though, but it would have at least been a split lip.”
Helene and I giggle.
“God,” I murmur, wide-eyed. “It’s all so dramatic.”
“I know, right?” Helene whispers. “What I wouldn’t give to trade places with you right now.”
“But.” I hold my glass of wine up to them. “Has he called me to talk about anything…. That’s a big fat no.”
“Because he was too busy beating people to a pulp for you,” Thomas replies. “Give the man a chance.”
“He wouldn’t have done it himself, he would have had one of his goons do it.”
“I don’t know about that.” Thomas twists his lips as if thinking. “He definitely has the psycho gene.”
“How do you know?” I scoff.
“I can see it in his eyes. You seem to forget that he was plotting my death on Saturday night and I was scared for my fucking life.”
“Wimp.”
“Agree.” Thomas holds his two hands up. “Wholeheartedly.”
“I like you, Thomas.” Helene smiles. “How much do you charge a night?”
“I don’t know, five to ten thousand. Sometimes fifty.”
“Fifty thousand dollars.” We both gasp.
“I’m worth every pretty penny, ladies.” He flicks his hair like Fabio. “But don’t get any ideas, I don’t work for friends. It would be weird to go to work and then rock up to lunch the next day as if nothing happened.”
We giggle as we imagine the scenario.
“Can we go out on Saturday night?” Helene asks. “I need to get messy.”
“Messy.” I wince. “What does that even mean? It’s giving me bad visuals of genitals or something.”
“Eww.”
“Well, I can go, but Alora might be in the Bahamas by then being wooed by her thug boyfriend.”
“Who hasn’t called me.” Although I secretly hope I am in the Bahamas. “Do you think I should go to the hospital and check on Pascal?”
“No,” they both snap. “He was tracking you, Alora, you should be going to the police.”
“We don’t know it was actually him or that it was even sinister.”
“Yes. We do. You don’t track someone and follow them to Paris.”
“But he is harmless. I know him. He’s got a good heart, he would never hurt me.”
“No. I’m with Prescott on this.” Thomas sighs. “You stay away from him.”
“Are we going?” I grab my bag and my jacket. “I’ve come straight from work and I’ve got crap to do at home.” We pay our bill and walk through the front doors out onto the footpath and there, standing beside the door, are Philippe and another man in a black suit.
“What are you doing here?” I frown.
“Mr. Prescott has assigned us to you.”
“For what?”
“Protection.”
“I don’t need protection.”
“That’s actually a good idea,” Thomas interrupts. “She does, thank you.”
“He’s in the hospital half dead,” I stammer. “I’m pretty sure I’m safe.”
A trace of a smile crosses Philippe’s face.
“Who did that to Pascal?” I ask him.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replies, straight-faced.
“Of course you don’t.” I turn to look at the other guard. “And what is your name?”
“Stefan.” He smiles. “Nice to meet you, Miss Sorenson.”
“Well, the pleasure is all yours, because no offense, but I don’t want you guys following me around.”
“It is what it is.” Philippe shrugs. “We follow Prescott’s orders.”
“Seems like everyone does.” I roll my eyes, honestly this is a joke.
Helene, Thomas and I exchange glances. Are you actually kidding me?
“See you guys later.” I kiss them both on the cheek and look up the street.
“Where are you going?” Philippe asks me.
“To get a cab.”
“We can drive you.”
I stare at him for a beat. “You are actually going to follow me home?”
“Yes.”
“Is Edward going to be there?”
“I have no idea.”
Ugh, I need to talk to him. “Okay, fine. Thank you, a lift would be appreciated.”
I follow them to the car, they open the back door for me and I slink in. We pull out into the traffic and I stare out the window as the night goes by.
If he has his guards on me…. That has to mean something, right?
God, I have no idea what’s going on. Everything about this man is so confusing.
Ten minutes later we pull into my street and surprise, surprise I didn’t tell them where to go. They already knew my address.
I know that Pascal is the one in the hospital but damn it, at this moment Edward feels just as unsafe to me.
Two hours later, I dial his number again.
You’ve reached Edward Prescott.
Leave a message.
Still not answering….
“Damn it, answer the damn phone. Call me back,” I demand. “I’m getting angry, Edward.”
I hang up in disgust, I’ve called him four times and not once has he answered. What’s he doing that’s so important that he can’t pick up a damn phone?
Is he in jail?
I want to know if he did this to Pascal, this is important.
I go to the window and peer out onto the street to see two black cars parked in front of my house. Four men are leaning up against them, red dots glow in the dark as their cigarettes light up. They look settled in for the night.
I glance at the clock, 11:14 p.m. I’m horny and exhausted and honestly don’t have the energy to worry for a moment longer. I have to work in the morning and I need to go to bed. I shower and dress and with one last look out the window at the circus down below in my street, I climb into bed.
He’ll call me tomorrow.
DARKNESS
I read the sign on the window,
HUNTING EQUIPMENT
I make my way inside; I walk through the aisle and pick up some rope and a weighted trap.
“Can I help you?” the assistant asks.
“Yes, I am after a set of knives and a pistol.”
“Of course, this way.”
ALORA
Four days.
Four fucking days of being followed by security guards and I haven’t heard one single word from their prick of a boss.
He’s not answering his phone, he’s not texted me back.
Nothing.
So he thinks that his cheap and nasty sex show can go unaddressed, he thinks he can beat my ex to a pulp and assign unwanted bodyguards to loiter around. I’ve come to the conclusion that if he’s not dead in a ditch, he soon will be.
Because with every day that I don’t hear from him, the more my anger grows.
Who the hell does this guy think he is?
Did he do this to Pascal?
I am not a possession; he doesn’t get to have guards on me without even checking with me first.
And they won’t go away, I’ve tried every day. On my lunchbreak yesterday in a rage I even told Philippe to fuck off and he laughed.
Laughed.
Another asshole who will be dead in a ditch sooner than expected.
Pascal’s mother called me crying on the phone and I had to pretend I didn’t know and of course I couldn’t tell her what’s happened.
Not that I even actually know.
I’ve made the decision that I’m going to call Pascal this afternoon and see if he’s alright, I can’t have this on my conscience. It’s eating me alive.
Well…. I’ve got a new plan today, I grab my purse and make my way out to their car.
“Good morning, Miss Sorenson.” Philippe opens the back door for me.
“Good morning.” I smile as I get into the back seat.
He gets in behind the wheel and starts the car.
“I would like to go to Edward’s office please,” I announce.
“Edward’s in London.” They glance at each other as if surprised. “You don’t know that?”
Oh, hell…they think that I know what’s going on. They think that Edward is keeping me updated, sorry boys, that’s a hard no.
Your boss is an asshole!
“Oh, I did know that,” I lie. “I thought he was back already.”
“No, not until the weekend. Sunday, I believe.”
Red steam shoots out of my ears and I side eye out the window.
Mother. Fucker.
“Take me to my store please.”
EDWARD
The office door opens. “Edward.”
I stand, walk in and sit down.
Paul smiles as he looks me over from behind his desk. “Back in London.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me, how has your week been?”
“Not. Great.” I bite my lip.
“What happened?”
“I….”
“Go on.”
“I ended my relationship.”
“Good.” He smiles. “This is progress.”
“Is it, though?” I shrug. “It doesn’t feel like progress, feels like I’ve just jumped over a cliff into a pit of fire.”
He chuckles. “I do always love your analogies.”
“How did your girlfriend take it?”
“Terribly.”