Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
EDWARD
“What?” I pant, still trying to catch my breath. It wouldn’t surprise me if I’m about to have a heart attack here….
“I thought it was a random accident yesterday but then it happened again this morning.” She screws up her face in tears. “I didn’t know what to do or where to go,” she stammers as she looks around, her eyes darting along the marina.
“Slow down,” I snap. “What happened?”
“Last night when I was crossing the street a car nearly hit me and I thought it was just a crazy driver, you know.”
“How did a car nearly hit you?”
“I was standing on the corner waiting to cross the road and a car veered off the road and went up onto the curb. Missed me by inches and it rattled me, but I thought nothing of it.”
“Okay.” I listen with my hands on my hips. “It probably was an accident.”
“It just happened again, except this time they targeted me and chased me until I ran into a store.”
I stare at her as I imagine the scenario. “Did you see who was driving?”
“They were wearing a black ski mask.” She begins to pace back and forth. “It’s Hermione, she’s going to kill me.”
“It’s not fucking Hermione.” I roll my eyes. “She’s not capable of running someone over, she won’t even swat a fly.”
“She’s hired a hit on me, then.”
Car tires screech from the street and she ducks for cover, her face screwed up. “Argh,” she cries.
“Jesus.” I grab her arm. “Calm down, you’re a nervous wreck.”
She falls against my chest in tears.
“You’re safe.” I pull away from her and grab a towel and wrap it around my shoulders. “Come inside.” I pick up my T-shirt and she follows me inside and I glance around.
Hmm…. I don’t want her in my personal space.
“Up to my office.” I take the stairs as she follows. “Take a seat.” I throw on my T-shirt and catch sight of my blood-red face in the mirror, fucking hell.
“So what happened?” I pour two glasses of water. “Have you spoken to anyone or done anything since I saw you on Saturday night?”
Her face falls as she stares at me. “Oh my god, of course. It was Theodore, wasn’t it?”
“What?”
“He hired the hit.”
“Nobody has hired a hit, you nutcase.” I take a sip of water. “Although…. You are fucking asking for trouble with the bullshit threats to everyone. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Oh my god.” She puts her head into her hands. “What am I going to do?”
“It will be fine.”
“You have to protect me,” she stammers. “This is all because of you, you have to give me some guards.”
“Firstly, this isn’t because of me. Let’s get that absolutely straight from the get-go. I have done nothing but respect you and treat you well. You started this blackmailing bullshit with Hermione, and let me tell you, I saw her father recently and he is not fucking happy.”
Her eyes widen. “You think it was him?”
“He doesn’t know anything, but if he did, it would definitely be him.”
“How do you know he doesn’t know?”
“Because he was asking me what the scandal about Hermione is and threatening that if I’m involved he’s going to kill me. If he knew, he wouldn’t be asking questions, would he?”
“Oh, god.”
“So stop threatening people,” I snap, annoyed. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”
“You have to protect me. I beg of you.”
“You need to go to the police.”
“I can’t go to the police.”
“Why not?”
“I’m going through a lot right now, okay?” she fires back.
“What does you going through a lot have anything to do with the police?”
“I know it’s Hermione.”
“I’ll bet my life on it that it’s not Hermione.”
Her eyes widen as she stares up at me. “It was you?”
“Trust me, if I wanted you dead, you would be dead. There would be no missed attempts.”
“You need to help me, I want protection,” she stammers.
“No.” I get up and open the door. “Call your father, get some of his men.”
“He’s cut me off.”
“Why?”
“Long story.”
I frown as I contemplate the question, what the hell could she have done for her own father to cut her off?
“What about me and you?” she whispers. “We have something, Edward, I know you love me.”
My eyes hold hers but I remain silent, there’s nothing I can say that won’t cut her to the bone.
Her pleading gaze turns to one of anger. “So I meant nothing to you?” she spits.
“We were friends.” I gesture to the door, knowing this is about to turn ugly.
“So you used me and now you’re done?”
“Isadora.” I roll my lips as my temper rises, how many times do I have to repeat myself to her?
“Never once have I contacted you privately, never once have I called or texted you, or had any kind of sexual relations with you where we were alone. We never once had a conversation about emotional attachment or anything of such nature. I knew you through Hermione. I liked you as Hermione’s friend, and it was great at the time, I’m not going to lie.
I enjoyed your company immensely. We had a lot of fun together, but the fact is you turned on her when she trusted you.
For you to then go on and threaten to expose our private matters to the public knowing her role in Switzerland and the carnage it would cause is unforgiveable. ”
“I could end your reputation,” she spits.
“Ha,” I huff. “That’s laughable, my reputation is built on exactly this. This is on brand for me, and I don’t give a flying fuck who knows it. I’ll gangbang whoever I fucking want, whenever I want. But what I won’t tolerate is Hermione or Theodore being blackmailed. Now get out.”
“This is your last chance, Edward.”
“Get out.”
“You’ll be sorry.”
“Yeah, you told me that and oh look…here you are asking for my protection.”
She stomps out the door.
“Don’t steal anything on your way out,” I call after her.
“Fuck you,” she fires back as she walks down the stairs. “I could sink this fucking yacht if I wanted to.” She must run into someone on the lower level. “What are you looking at?” she screams. “Get away from me.”
I listen to her yell at everyone on her way out and a commotion as people scurry to get out of her way and I roll my eyes.
Crazy fucking bitch.
ALORA
“What are they all doing?” Jonty asks.
“There’s so many of them,” Freya says as she cranes her neck to watch them.
We’re cleaning the front window of my store as six guards circle around outside. Dressed in their customary suits, they’re talking as they walk up and down the block, while two of them stand either side of the front door.
“It’s like they’re taking over the street, I wonder what the other shop staff think about it,” Jonty replies.
“Right?” Freya says.
“And now that they’ve deadlocked the back door closed, we can’t even go out there.”
“You’re right, this is going way too far. It’s getting ridiculous.” I throw down my cleaning cloth in disgust. “Enough is enough.” I march out the back and dig through my bag for my phone.
I call Edward. Ring, ring…ring, ring…. It rings out. I hang up and immediately dial his office. “Prescott Holdings, how may I help you?”
“Hi, Babette.”
“Hello, Alora.”
“Is Edward in his office?”
“He’s just stepped out for a minute but he has his phone on him.”
Well, he’s not fucking answering it….
“Okay, thank you. Can you ask him to call me, please?”
“Of course, dear.”
“Have a nice day. Goodbye.”
“Au revoir.”
I dial his number again.
You’ve reached Edward Prescott.
Leave a message.
I narrow my eyes and contemplate giving him what for, but hang up before I do; if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s not to leave him an angry message.
Nothing fires him up more, and he calls me back looking for a fight.
I slump into my chair and sit behind my desk as I feel anger seep into my bones.
Is this really what my life is going to be like forever?
No privacy.
Unable to go anywhere alone.
I know why he’s like this, but honestly it’s getting out of hand, I don’t know if he’s just nervous about the wedding or what it is, but security seems to be ramping up more every day.
I’m over it.
What the hell does he think is going to happen? History is not going to repeat itself. It’s Nice, I live in a boring little terrace house and go nowhere and do nothing. Nobody is going to do anything sinister; this is beginning to affect my staff and it’s not okay.
I dial his number again and it rings out…ugh. Where is he and why isn’t he answering his damn phone?
Infuriating!
EDWARD
“She’s here,” I hear Marcel tell the others.
It’s after 6 p.m. and Alora is arriving home from work.
I watch out the window of the second floor as she walks along the boardwalk with Philippe close behind her.
She’s wearing a cream trench coat, patent high-heeled pumps and her dark hair is swept up into an effortless loose knot, even straight from work she looks a picture of perfection. I pour two glasses of red wine.
Finally, time to relax.
“Hello, Marcel, hello, Josephine.”
“Good evening, Miss Sorenson.”
“Did you have a nice day?” I hear her say as she walks in through the doors.
“I did, and you?”
“It was okay.” I hear her reach the bottom of the stairs. “Just another day.”
“Are you ready for dinner?” Josephine asks.
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
“I’ll let the kitchen know. It will be about twenty minutes. I’m finishing for the day soon, can I get you anything before I log off?”
“No, sweetie, I’m fine. You get going.”
I sip my wine and smile as I listen on, no wonder all of the staff adore her. She’s always so thoughtful and present with each and every one of them.
“Okay.”
“Thank you for today, have a lovely night.” I hear her walking up the stairs.
“You too, Miss Sorenson.”
She appears at the top of the stairs and I smile and tap my lap. “Here she is.”
“Hi.” She walks over and sits sidesaddle on my lap and I kiss her softly and she takes her glass of wine from the coffee table. “Where were you today?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
“I was calling you but you didn’t answer.”
“Oh, yes.” I remember now. “I went to lunch with some associates and forgot to take my phone.”
Her eyes hold mine. “You didn’t think to call me when you got back to the office.”