Chapter Fourteen
WHO THE HELL CARES?
Sign the papers so we can be together.
Let’s not waste another day because of that douchebag.
Those are just some of the things I want to say to Nicole...but I don’t.
Because Montero’s already knocking on the door, which means Dr. Pitt has finally arrived, and Nicole’s health must come first.
“Come in.”
Montero opens the door, and Dr. Pitt enters the room.
She's in her sixties, white-haired, sharp-eyed, and with a tendency to march rather than walk to wherever she’s going.
It’s to be expected, considering how she’s also ex-army like Montero and almost everyone else who works for me at close proximity.
I glance at Nicole, asking, “Will you be alright with being alone while Dr. Pitt examines you?"
She slowly nods, and I have to clench my fists against the urge to touch her. She looks so small and lost, and there are tiny cuts on her skin that make me want to go back to that stockroom and finish what my men started—
“Chase.”
Dr. Pitt draws me out of my vengeful thoughts just in time, and I realize I’m causing an unnecessary delay.
There are things I can do, but assessing Nicole's condition as a physician isn't one of them, and so I can only be satisfied with taking one last look at Nicole before forcing myself to leave.
Dr. Pitt has already started talking as I close the door behind me, and while I know Nicole is in good hands...
It's just not fucking enough.
I need to do something or I'll drive myself insane—
"Sir."
Montero is at the end of the hallway. "Reynolds is back."
Perfect.
This is exactly what I need, because I've never been the type to sit idly and do nothing.
Reynolds is already at the desk in my study when I walk in, laptop open, two folders aligned the way he always aligns them.
He doesn't get up, and I don't expect him to.
We stopped pretending to be employer and employee about eight years into the ten he's worked for me—about two years after the only thing that has ever truly broken me, which was a botched kidnapping attempt that ended with my father dead instead of me.
I was twenty-five. Up to that afternoon, I had been living as if nothing in the world could touch me. I have not lived that way since.
"Tell me."
Reynolds gives me his report without preamble.
It's no surprise to learn that the man who accosted Nicole has a criminal record.
A report has already been filed, but I intend to spare Nicole from further trauma.
Justice will still be served, but Reynolds and I are confident we can find another victim to press charges against Nicole's assailant.
"Good." I lean back. "But aside from that—are you in contact with anyone who's working for the same law firm as Pettyfer's lawyer? I'd like to speak with him."
"As a matter of fact, I am," Reynolds says, "but it's sure to cost you."
"Pay him up front. And promise to pay him the same amount if he can speak to me within fifteen minutes."
"On it."
It's a generous offer that proves effective. The intern working for Pettyfer's lawyer is on the phone in five, and the information he gives me...
It confirms what I’ve suspected, but when Dr. Pitt comes to find me in my study—
“How is she?”
This is what gives me a taste of fear. I just don’t fucking know how I’ll be able to stay human if it turns out that Nicole was—
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Dr. Pitt says. “You arrived just in time.”
All I can do is swallow hard. I think I’m this close to believing that God is real. That’s the only possible explanation for me to arrive “in time”, considering how I came all the way from London to get to her.
“Anything else I need to know?”
“She declined to be tested for sexual abuse. She doesn’t seem inclined to press charges either...but I think you already expected that. In fact, I’d go as far as saying you’ve found an alternative route to pursuing justice on her behalf.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” I acknowledge.
“Just don’t play the vigilante,” she warns, “and be gentle and patient with her. She hasn't fully processed everything that's happened, and I'm not just talking about the assault."
Dr. Pitt waves away my offer to see her to the door, but I don’t go to Nicole right away. I still need a minute to think things through...and make sure I’m ready for the consequences, whatever they may be.
All or nothing, Everford.
I enter her room without knocking, and I see right away that this causes a helpless little smile to wobble onto her face.
"You didn't knock."
"I would have," I counter, "if I believed you weren't expecting me."
When I sit down on the edge of her bed, I can sense her tense up, and she also starts clutching the edge of the covers like she's a second away from either pulling them over her head or throwing them over mine so she doesn't have to see my face...as she starts to speak.
"Thank you.”
The words come out unevenly while she continues to avoid my gaze.
"I...I k-know I already said it before, but the more I think about it, the more...I'm just...t-thank you. For helping me the first time. And saving me—"
"I wouldn't have gotten involved if it wasn't you."
The words make her entire body jerk. But she still doesn't look my way, and that's fine.
"And I still want you to divorce him. I still want you to be my wife."
There are other things I have to say that will have her looking my way, just like she's doing now.
"Mr. Everford—" Her lovely face is distraught, and her tone perfectly matches it.
"I'm not going to ask you to sign something that's a complete lie. But I can also tell you right now that in less than a week's time, he’ll ask you to sign something else."
"W-What do you mean by something else?"
"Irreconcilable differences."
"Oh." She slowly nods. "T-That's fine with me."
"And if he asks that you waive any claim on his assets in return?"
This time, she answers without hesitation. "I don't care. I don't want anything from him."
I knew she'd say that, but to hear her actually say the words is something else, and I have to grit my teeth against the urge to lean forward and kiss her.
Patience, Everford.
Nicole won’t be the girl I’ve wanted my whole life if she were the type to easily ignore her vows, regardless of how unfaithful her douchebag of a husband is.
But all the same, I think it’s best to warn her—
“Give it a week at most,” I tell her.
“A...week?”
“Before he starts singing a different tune.”
“Oh.”
“But until then I'll be moving to my office—”
Nicole looks upset again. “It’s not right—”
“I can’t promise not to make a move on you if I stay here.”
She shuts up.
“It will only be a week,” I say gravely. “I know it will be hard not to see me for so long—”
A choked laugh escapes her.
“But you’ll survive. You can spend the time thinking about what you’ll say to me...once you’re free of Pettyfer, and I’m going to ask you for the second time to be my wife.”