Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Parker
I hadn’t been back to my apartment since before the honeymoon.
I needed to collect my post and check that everything was okay—run the taps, grab a few items of clothes.
I slid the key into the bottom lock and tried to turn it anti-clockwise, but it didn’t work.
I turned my key in the opposite direction and managed to lock it.
It hadn’t been locked in the first place.
That was the second time I’d left my flat’s second lock undone. I was normally so fastidious. I must have just forgotten in Tristan’s impatience to leave.
I opened the door tentatively and stepped inside.
Everything was familiar, but I didn’t feel the same vibe of coming home that I was used to feeling when I walked through the front door.
In the last months, Tristan’s house had been the place where I slept, showered, cooked.
Despite having barely anything of mine surrounding me, Tristan’s place had started to feel more than familiar, even if it wasn’t quite home to me yet.
I picked up my post from the mat and plodded into the kitchen, where I glanced around for a phone charger.
There was always at least one in here. I started to sort my post when something caught my eye.
A single red rose sat in a mug on my kitchen table.
It was very much dead. And it had very much not been put there by me.
Cold whooshed through my chest and I swallowed before asking myself a million questions.
Had Tristan come in and put it there for me to come home to weeks ago and then forgotten?
Had I absentmindedly put it there and not remembered?
There had to be an explanation. Who else had a key to my flat?
My parents had one, but I was one hundred percent sure that they hadn’t used it.
If my mother couldn’t find a lead crystal vase, she would have dumped the rose in the bin before putting it in a mug.
I pulled out my phone and took a picture, then sent it to Tristan, asking him if he put it there.
I’d not told him I was coming today. The mysterious payments from the charity bank account had stopped and Tristan hadn’t seemed concerned for my safety recently. I’d assumed everything was okay.
Tristan’s name flashed up on my phone.
“You’re back in your flat. Why?”
“I came home to check on things and collect my post.”
He didn’t respond, which was always the worst kind of response from Tristan. He always had something to say.
I heard the jangle of keys and rustling as if he were putting on a jacket. “Where are you now?”
I was just about to tell him I was sitting at my kitchen table when he said, “Don’t say anything.”
My heart began to race. Something in Tristan’s voice worried me.
“Don’t make any sudden movements, but go to the front door and leave. Don’t argue with me. Don’t say anything. Please, Parker, just do this. Stay on the phone with me. Head to the stairs. Don’t use the lifts.”
My hands started to sweat but I picked up my post and stood. “Okay.”
“Do you have a lot of post?” Tristan asked.
I glanced at the bundle in my hand as I headed to the door. “Not a lot. It’s less than I expected. Mostly junk.”
“Lots of circulars from estate agents offering you free quotations?”
“I guess.” Why was he fixated on my post?
“Yeah, I get a lot of those too.”
I stepped out into the corridor of my building and shut the door of my flat.
“Answer yes or no, are you out of your flat?”
“Yes,” I said, my heartrate picking up again.
“Don’t run but head to the stairs quickly and then get outside as soon as you can.”
I did what Tristan said, walking briskly to the end of the corridor and out the emergency exit to the stairwell.
In less than a minute, I was heading out onto the road from my building. Tristan was coming toward me.
He saw me, hung up his phone, and sprinted toward me.
“You okay?” he asked, sweeping his hands down my arms and looking me over like I might be missing a limb or something.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You didn’t leave a rose on the kitchen table. Neither did I. Was the door unlocked when you went in?”
“Yes, but we left in such a hurry that—”
“Did you change the locks like you promised?”
“I was planning to. What with the wedding and the unexpected honeymoon, I just hadn’t gotten around to it—”
“So last time we were at your flat was when we came to collect some things for the honeymoon?” he asked.
I tried to think but I was struggling to focus. “Yes. I think so—yes, that’s the last time I was here before today.”
“We locked both locks. I took note. Someone’s been in your flat. Don’t go back there again.”
A car was idling at the curb and Tristan ushered me inside before following me and telling the driver to take us back to Notting Hill.
“I didn’t mention it, but the payments started on your personal bank account a couple of weeks ago.
I presume you didn’t notice. They’ve been clever about it, camouflaging them to look like a payment to . ”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t have much to say.” His jaw was tense.
The laid-back Tristan who normally inhabited his body had taken a day off.
“I still haven’t gotten to the bottom of who’s taking these payments, but now, with the payments being taken from your personal account instead of the charity, and someone leaving you that rose—it’s beyond creepy.
We need to consider involving the police. ”
He was making me nervous. A dead flower on my kitchen table was creepy, no doubt about it, but calling the police seemed like an overreaction.
More payments, this time from my personal account, were even more worrying.
It was clearly me being targeted, not Sunrise.
“You think the payments and the rose—they’re definitely connected? ”
“I can’t assume anything. But I need you to work from home again—just until I know I can keep you safe. We can call the police when we get back to mine.”
“I don’t want the police involved. If you really think I’m in danger, then I’ll be safe at your place,” I said. “If someone wanted to find me, I’ve worked in the same building for years—they would have approached me there. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
He took my hand and squeezed it. “But things could be escalating. They clearly wanted to send a message by leaving the flower. They want you to know they have access to you.”
It was hard not to be overwhelmed by what Tristan was saying. I appreciated him being protective but surely if I was in danger, they would have left more than a rose. The rose had been there for some time.
“I think we need to speak to your dad as well.”
A dark thunk landed in my stomach. “I don’t want to worry him.”
Tristan nodded. “I know. But he would never forgive me if I didn’t go to him at this point. And I hate to say this to you, but the most likely reason for you to be targeted is because of—”
“Who my father is.” I sighed, resigned. “I know.” Whatever I did, there was no way of getting away from the fact of whose daughter I was, and how much that meant to the rest of the world.
The screech of tires caught our attention. A car had pulled up behind ours and a man stepped out.
“This guy’s name’s Sergei. He’s a friend of mine.” Tristan led us back toward the car. “I trust him and so can you. I want you to stay here with him until I come back.”
“Come back from where? Where are you going?” Panic began to rise in my throat.
“I just want to check some things out. I won’t be long and I won’t be far away. Give me your key and stay here with Sergei.”
Sergei held the door to his car open. It had blacked-out windows and I couldn’t see anything inside.
“You’ll be quite safe,” he said in a Russian accent.
Why was everyone telling me I was going to be safe like my safety was in question? A rose on the kitchen table was weird, but maybe Sutton had placed it there, or my mum. There had to be a simple explanation—and I was determined not to let Tristan get paranoid before I figured out what it was.