Chapter 32 Defiled
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Defiled
HENRY
Ri shrank as soon as the question left my mouth. Her body folded in on itself, and my heart lurched.
Whoever the boy and the man were in that photo, she hadn’t wanted me to know about them. That, or she’d been trying her hardest to forget about them.
I chose to believe it was the latter, although deep down, I knew that she had secrets, and that she didn’t trust me enough to share them with me. Yet.
I was going to prove to her that she could trust me with anything that weighed on her.
If I could have nothing else from her, when this two-year marriage of ours was no longer necessary, I wanted it to be that she would know, in perpetuity, that she could rely on me, could confide in me. Could depend on me to always help her.
I tucked her under my arm, grateful that Rumi, and Cadence, who had well and truly proven tonight that she deserved nothing from me, had already left.
“Let’s go, Catnip,” I murmured, tugging my phone out and sending a quick text to Lucian.
Henry: SOS
He’d know that meant get the car as close to the building entrance as possible and get us the hell out of here.
“I’m such a stupid fool,” Ri muttered, clutching the framed photo to her chest. I couldn’t work out if it was to hide the picture from me or because it was precious to her. “How did she get in?”
“We’ll figure it out,” I promised, confused about what she meant, but knowing now was not the time to be discussing it.
We had to get past the media rabble in the foyer, so I kept us walking as quickly as I could while still appearing casual.
I didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention in our direction.
“Let’s just get to the car, and then we’ll talk. ”
She let out a shaky breath. “Okay. We’ll talk.” She sounded like I’d just issued her a death sentence. I wanted to pull her into me, to reassure her that whoever Bogdan Lupucojoc was, it wouldn’t change anything for me. Not regarding our agreement, and certainly not regarding how I felt about her.
But I kept my mouth tight as we entered the foyer. A frenzy of cameras clicked, almost as if they’d been primed that they might get something juicy from us.
Rumi, no doubt. The woman was diabolical. I wouldn’t underestimate her again. There were too many people I needed to keep a closer eye on, and Lucian could only be in so many places at once.
“Head down, Catnip. Just keep walking,” I told her in a low voice, picking up my pace as the photographers started shouting.
“Henry! Why the shotgun wedding?”
“Mr Baxter, rumour has it that your wife is pregnant—is that why you rushed to tie the knot?”
“How much were you paying her by the hour before you decided to put a ring on it?”
Irina flinched, and rage boiled in my blood. My free hand clenched into a fist, and I turned in the direction of the vulture who had dared to insult her.
“Henry, don’t!” Ri hissed frantically, pulling me in the direction of the huge wooden doors that would spill us out onto the sidewalk. “You do not want ‘Billionaire Assaults the Media’ being headline news tomorrow.”
I sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. And then another. And another, letting my vision tunnel on the exit as we hurried towards it. She was right, but I thought it might kill me not to defend her honour.
Lucian was waiting just outside the door. The second he saw my face, his expression turned grim, and he ushered us towards the SUV, wrenching open the back door so we could scramble inside. I gripped his arm before he could close the door.
“There’s a man in the foyer, a photographer in a plaid shirt, open over a black T-shirt. Find out who he works for.”
Lucian frowned, but gave a quick nod, closing the door and locking the car with his key.
“It’s not the worst thing anyone has ever said about me, you know,” Ri murmured, digging in her clutch with hands that shook. She tugged out her phone, tried to unlock it twice, but she trembled so violently that she couldn’t keep it still enough to get face recognition to work.
I gently took it from her. “What’s your passcode?”
She rattled off some numbers, and I unlocked the phone. I went to hand it back to her, but she shook her head.
“I’m too messy right now to text. Can you type something out to Kat for me?”
“Anything you need,” I rasped, navigating to the text app and finding her conversation with Kat, tapping out her words.
Irina: Rumi hasn’t been bothering you, has she? She hasn’t asked to come over and collect anything she might have left behind in my bedroom?
Heart hammering, I sent the message. “Do you think that—”
Ri squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose. “The only place Rumi could have gotten her hands on this …” She dropped the framed photo onto the seat between us— “was inside my bedroom.”
Her phone buzzed.
Kat: I haven’t seen or heard from her since that night she was screaming at you in the hallway. Why? What’s she done now? Even if she had contacted me, I’d have told her to fuck right off
Ri dictated another message to me.
Irina: Are you home tonight?
Kat: Is everything ok?
I swallowed, relaying the message to Ri, who sighed, letting her head fall back against the headrest. Everything was decidedly not okay, but it wasn’t up to me to communicate that to her friend.
“Tell her everything’s fine, I was just wondering how things were going with Sir Daddy Dom.”
I raised an eyebrow at the name. Ri managed a wan smile. “It’s a long story.”
I sent the message, and almost immediately another pinged into the chat.
Kat: No idea where you are, you elusive bitch, but I’m in an Uber on my way to Sir Dom’s house, with drinks … don’t wait up!
Kat: If you were even planning on coming home tonight … where the hell are you living at the moment?
“Leave her on read,” Ri instructed, taking the phone from me and tucking it back into her purse. “She’ll forget that I haven’t replied as soon as she gets to Dom’s house, anyway.”
My heart ached for her. “You could just tell her about us—hear me out,” I added hastily when her head snapped in my direction, opening her mouth to argue. I tucked the photo into the seat pocket and slid closer, taking her still jittery hand in mine.
“You wouldn’t have to tell her about the marriage, but you could tell her that you’ve started seeing someone. At least that would explain you being away a lot, and … I don’t want this duplicity we’re in together to cause a rift between you and your friend.”
Ri shook her head sadly. “It’s a nice idea, Henry … but it’s just another lie to add to all the lies I’m trying to keep straight in my head.”
Maybe it doesn’t have to be a lie …
I bit back that thought before I could voice it.
“Understood,” I said stiffly instead, but I couldn’t bring myself to let go of her hand as Lucian climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the car and pulling into traffic.
“Back to the yacht?” he asked, preparing to turn at the next intersection.
Ri’s hand twitched in mine. “I need to go to my apartment. I need to know what she’s done.”
“Did Rumi know about the existence of that?” Lucian snarled as Ri slid a small lock box out of her letterbox.
“Possibly? I often didn’t take a key with me when we went out, so I couldn’t lose it. I doubt she ever saw the code, though.”
But as I stood beside her, it was a simple matter of watching over her shoulder, as the numbers snicked into place, and the box popped open to reveal a key. If Ri had brought Rumi home with her at any time, it would have been all too easy for her lunatic ex to memorise the combination.
Lucian massaged his forehead, scowling. “It’s almost like you wanted this crazy bitch to break into your apartment.”
I shot him a warning glare, but Ri just rolled her eyes in his direction. Hope flashed through me that this evening’s events hadn’t killed her spark completely, as she led us into the foyer of the building and up the stairs.
Ri’s apartment swung open, and I stepped inside behind her.
Cold seeped through the soles of my shoes as I followed her down the dark hallway.
She flicked a light on at the other end, illuminating a small living room and kitchen.
It was old, but she and Kat had made it homely with cushions and a woollen throw on the Ikea sofa, and a round rug that soaked up some of the cold.
Not enough, but some.
“At least there was no sign of Cockerels Cap outside tonight,” Lucian muttered. Ri ignored him, heading directly for a closed door off the living room. I followed close behind, worry churning under my ribs.
She unlatched the door, pushing it inwards. The room was too dark to see, but when Ri flicked on the light switch, she stepped backwards so suddenly that she collided with me. I caught her around the waist, steadying her as we peered into the carnage.
“Ce pula mea!” she gasped.
The room had been ransacked so completely that there wasn’t a scrap of the cheap timber-look flooring visible.
Clothes were strewn from the wardrobe as if they’d been dragged onto the floor and riffled through.
Bottles and tubes of makeup scattered across the bed, one of them leaking a reddish liquid onto Ri’s brightly patterned bedspread.
Drawers were opened, and papers, textbooks and stationery had been thrown haphazardly, some of the textbooks torn down the spine.
“Why?” Ri whispered, stepping out of my arms and picking up an anatomy text that was probably worth a few hundred dollars. The cover had been torn off. “What’s the point of ruining my things?”
“Hatred makes people do unspeakable things,” I murmured, taking the book from her hands. “I’m so sorry, Catnip.”
She could have sold these textbooks. Or kept them to refer to, if she chose to start a career using her degree. And regardless of their value, or their usefulness, they were hers. Her things had been defiled. Her space, her privacy …
“The box …” she muttered, pulling out of my arms and dropping to her knees, tugging aside the bedspread and sticking her head underneath. I crouched down beside her.
“What are you looking for?” I asked, peering into the darkness. There didn’t seem to be anything under there, except for a few dust bunnies.
“Pizd?!” she hissed, frantically sweeping her arms under the bed. “Where is it?”
“What does it look like?” I asked, getting to my feet and scanning the mess. “I can—”
“No!” Ri blurted, panicked. She budged me towards the door. “I’ll find it. I just … please, just let me look on my own!”
Heart heavy, I stepped back, scanning her too-pale face, but no closer to understanding why she was suddenly so worried. “Okay.”
“Thank you … I’m sorry,” she mumbled, turning and starting to rummage through the piles of clothes on the floor. “Just … wait out in the lounge room.”
I didn’t want to leave her alone, but I had to respect her need for space. I retreated to the lounge where I found Lucian muttering into his phone. When he saw me, he said, “I’ll call you later.”
Fixing me with a hard stare, he asked, “Might your wife be withholding important information?”
I took a seat on the couch, suppressing a sigh. I could tell him about Bogdan Lupucojoc. Let him do an investigation on the name. But the thought of how Ri had looked when Rumi had said the name stopped me. She’d had enough of her rights violated this evening without me taking another one from her.
If she wanted to tell me about this uncle of hers, she would. If she didn’t want me to know about him … well, I wanted it to be her decision, not mine.
“Can you get a crew here to clean up her room?” I asked instead. “Once she gives us the all-clear to allow others in there, that is.”
Lucian sighed. “Yes. I was just on the phone with my second in charge. And we’ll get a roster to keep an eye on the apartment twenty-four-seven, even when Irina isn’t here.”
“If only we could go to the police about it,” I mumbled. “Rumi is a respected lawyer—if she broke in … or paid someone to do it, and we could prove it, that would ruin her career. It’s the very least of what she deserves.”
What we both left unspoken was how it was more likely that Ri would be deported if we reported this crime, instead of Rumi facing any real consequence. She was too well connected in Sydney.
Well, she might have the connections, but I had the money. I would make this right for Ri, one way or another.