CHAPTER 7 FAE #2
I bristle, a flicker of sympathy rising as I watch her face fall and her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
Nobody deserves to be treated like a servant.
But then, like a lightning bolt, I remember she knows he is married, and she was not exactly sunshine and roses when she first spoke to us.
I haven’t forgotten the judgemental stare she gave me before Charles pretended he knew who we were. The irony is not lost on me either.
My family is one of the most influential in the world. More influential than Charles could ever be. No amount of money could bring you to our level, if she genuinely knew who I was, she would be sat there trying to become my best friend just so she could use my connections to her advantage.
Now look, I do not like how women are always blamed for men’s indiscretions.
As a society, we are so quick to pass judgement.
She is a slut. She is a home wrecker. She is a bad mum.
She should have chosen a better husband.
Why did she stay when he hit her? But…at some point, we also can’t let our hatred of men blind us to the fact that some women are just as bad.
Would I have judged her solely on her choice of sexual partner? I mean… internally, yes. But it’s not my man, not my life, and she has a choice. What I actually judge her on is the kind of person she is and from what I’ve seen so far… she’s a bitch.
Hopefully, Charles’ death teaches her a thing or two.
No one is untouchable. Ever. God, what if it is traceable and she gets blamed for it?
She was with him more than anyone else here.
That’s exactly where the police will look first. Will I feel guilty about that?
I don’t know. I want to say yes, but when it comes down to it, when it’s her or me… I will always choose myself.
Roman’s hand on my thigh brings me back to reality.
The calluses feel delicious against my skin as he rubs the inside of my knee in a way that is far too tender for someone like him.
He and Charles are talking about something to do with tech and, for once, I am grateful I have a partner on this assignment.
My head has not been in the game. I would like to blame Roman and what nearly happened in the bathroom, but the truth is, Robyn being missing consumes me.
Is that why they brought Roman along? Did they somehow know I wasn’t fully up to the task?
I scoff at the thought that The Company would genuinely care about me. Roman gives me a brief once-over at the noise but I shake my head gently at him to let him know that I am fine. He turns back to Charles, effortlessly dominating the conversation.
Charles’ mistress returns with his glass of water and he grabs it from her greedily.
Downing it in seconds, he leans back in his chair, dabbing at his hairline before rubbing at his chest. His chest seems to be working overtime, his breathing turning erratic as I pretend not to notice his worsening symptoms.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Charles?” she asks.
“I… I think I am coming down with something,” he says, bracing his hand on the table as he tries to push himself up.
His left hand gives way and the cutlery in front of him crashes to the floor, the noise cutting through the room.
Steeling himself, he forces his weight onto his right hand and manages to stand, but the moment he takes a step back, he stumbles.
His mistress is on her feet instantly, grabbing at him, trying to support what she can of his weight.
“Augh,” he groans, his face twisting as his whole body starts to tremble in front of us. “I don’t feel well.”
Roman and I stand at the same time, like we’ve somehow practised it. Our bodies move in sync, both of us slipping into different versions of panic and concern. Of course, it’s not real. It’s just what we want everyone else to see.
“Charles!” I say, my voice pitching higher than usual. “Please, let us get you some help.”
“No,” he barks. “I just want… I just want… I—”
He collapses before he can finish, hitting the floor hard as all hell breaks loose around us. People scream, others rush forward, and I catch flashes of people’s phones recording or trying to call the ambulance.
Roman is down beside him in seconds. He checks his pulse, then looks up, shaking his head with something that could almost pass as sincerity. If I didn’t know any better, I would believe he was just another concerned guest.
“Oh God!” Charles’ mistress wails. “Help him!”
Roman rips open his shirt, doing compressions that I can tell are not hard enough to revive his heart.
Over and over, he bounces on his chest, pausing only to do mouth-to-mouth.
I cannot be certain, but I am fairly sure Roman is not blowing anything into Charles’s mouth, let alone doing it correctly.
For one, it is not recommended anymore and Roman would know that.
And for two, there is definitely poison on Charles’ lips.
The paramedics arrive and finally relieve Roman as he slips back around and pulls me closer to his chest. Again, for just a moment, I let myself believe this is real. Two worried, normal people, in love at a charity gala.
The paramedics announce Charles’ death at the scene. Women whimper in the arms of their loved ones as his mistress is questioned by the police. When we see her point towards us, we know we are next.
As far as they are aware, we are nothing more than acquaintances who didn’t even realise Charles would be here tonight. I give myself a mental high-five for a job well done as we hand over our fake identities, assuring them we are happy to support their investigation if needed.
Roman makes his way to the valet to collect his car. He directs me into the passenger seat and does my seatbelt like last time. Jumping into the driver’s side, he fiddles with the music before ‘It’s A Man’s Man’s Man’s World by Seal’ comes through the speaker.
“Tinkerbell…”
“Not right now, Ro, please… I’m…” I take in a deep breath and force myself to stare at his perfect side profile as his eyes flick between me and the road. “I’m tired.”
“It’s okay, little one,” he mutters softly. “Close your eyes.”
He leans back and grabs a blanket I hadn’t noticed from the backseat. Placing it over me, he turns up the heating to combat the October chill. For the first time in weeks, I feel safe, cocooned in his presence and scent.
I close my eyes, drifting off to the sound of Roman singing a quiet harmony with Seal, telling me life would mean nothing without a woman or a girl.
The last thought I have before sleep takes me is that Charles’ last words were ‘I want’, which feels ironic, because wanting got him killed. I want a lot of things too… but I won’t be stupid enough to lose my life for them.