24. Somebody That I Used To Know
24
SOMEBODY THAT I USED TO KNOW
“Heath!”
His arms close around me, squeezing tightly. It's a deceivingly affectionate gesture, as I can see the smouldering anger behind his eyes. “You seem surprised. I told you I was coming.”
No, he didn’t.
What he did do, however, was try to kidnap me off the street this morning.
I had plastered on a brave face, because I was meeting my sisters for the very first time—today was supposed to be special. But it wasn’t. Not with the messages flooding my phone. The constant insults, the threats, they just wouldn’t stop. Every buzz of my phone made my stomach twist.
I had needed a minute. Just one single minute to breathe, to cry, to try and message him back, telling him to leave me alone once and for all. So, I slipped outside, thinking I’d catch my breath. But instead, I walked straight into his arms.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
I was so shocked I actually screamed. “Heath!”
He gripped my arm, pulling me closer, his breath hot against my ear as he spoke, his voice low and menacing. “Did you really think you could just run off and hide? That I’d let you go so easily?”
Fear surged through me, but I had forced myself to stay calm. I couldn’t let him see how terrified I was. “Let me go, Heath.” I said, my voice shaky but firm. “This isn’t the way to fix anything.”
His grip had tightened, his eyes dark with anger. “Fix? You think I’m trying to fix this? You don’t get it, do you?” He leaned in closer, his words dripping with venom. “You’re mine, Chunky. No one walks away from me.”
Chunky.
That word used to sound different in my ears. It was his nickname for me, one I foolishly mistook for affection. Back then, I’d laugh it off, telling myself it was endearing, a playful tease between us. But now, with the way he spits it out, it’s clear that it was never meant to be sweet. There’s nothing cute about it, nothing remotely kind. It’s a weapon, sharpened and honed over time, and he’s aiming it right at my insecurities.
I tried to twist free, but he was stronger than I remembered. My heart raced as I glanced around, desperately hoping someone would notice, after all we’re standing on a busy street. But no one paid us any attention. I guess a couple arguing on the street in Istanbul wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
“I’m not yours,” I said, my voice a little stronger this time. “I’ve never been yours.”
He let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, but you are. You just haven’t realised it yet.”
“Please…”
“We’re going somewhere quiet. Someplace where we can talk without interruptions.” He started to drag me up the street. “What the fuck are you doing in Istanbul anyway?”
I couldn’t let him take me. “Heath, stop!”
“Shut up!” he snapped, his mask of control slipping, his eyes wild now. “I’m doing this for you! For us!”
And then, as if by magic, I heard my sister Ginny’s voice over the noise of the city. I scanned the crowded street, desperately searching for her. The moment I spotted her, I wrenched my arm free from Heath’s grip and bolted toward her, not daring to look back.
And now he’s here, with fury in his eyes and revenge written all over his face.
The whole room is watching us with interest though and I give a half-hearted smile, not wanting everyone to know that I’m quaking in my boots right now. “I don’t recall you mentioning that you were going to come.”
His grin stretches wider, the edges of his lips curling with a dark amusement. He lowers his voice to a near whisper, the kind that sends chills down my spine, as he leans in closer. “Merry Christmas.”
A shiver runs down my spine, but I summon well-practised calm. I don’t need to have a scene right now. “I’m with my family now. I’ll meet up you later.”
My sister Ginny catches my eye and gives a subtle nod. She now knows what Heath is capable of. And I can see the concern in her eyes, the protective stance she’s ready to take.
Heath finally backs off, a forced smile playing on his lips as he turns to face my family. “Well, well, what a warm welcome. I guess I’ll have to introduce myself then.”
Ginny discreetly makes her way over to Aydin, and I can only hope that whatever they’re plotting will help diffuse the tension.
Heath strides forward, confidently extending his hand towards my father. “Sir Albert, I’m Heath Richards. It’s a true honour to meet you. Saffy’s spoken so much about you.”
“Saffy? Who is this?” There’s a moment of silence as my father sizes him up, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as if trying to place the name. “Richards? Are you Angus’s boy?”
“Yes, sir,” Heath replies, shaking my father's hand firmly. “My father speaks very highly of you.”
A flicker of warmth crosses my father’s face as he grips Heath’s hand a bit tighter. “Angus and I go way back. We were thick as thieves in our younger days. How is the old rascal?”
“He’s doing well, thank you,” Heath says, smiling. “He’s always sharing stories about the good old days. He has great respect for you, sir.”
My father chuckles, the sound deep and resonant. “He’s not the only one with stories. Angus was quite the character. We got into more than our fair share of trouble back then.”
My mother eyes him warily, her scepticism clear. “Heath? This is a family gathering. Why are you here?”
Heath kisses my mother on the cheek, a practiced charm oozing from his demeanour. “Valentina, I couldn’t stay away. You know how special Saffy is to me.”
My mother’s eyebrow shoots up, the universal sign that she’s not buying whatever story he’s selling. “I thought I made it very clear that you’re not welcome to see my daughter.”
Wait—what does she mean by that?
Could she possibly know about Heath and me?
But if she knew, why didn’t she tell me?
Why didn’t she warn me?
A soft chuckle escapes Heath’s lips, his self-assured demeanour unwavering. “I assure you, ma’am, I’ll find a way to make you fall in love with me as much as your daughter does.”
Fat chance.
As if on cue, Aydin approaches us, offering a warm welcome in Turkish. Ginny, on the other hand, is now whispering to Deniz. I catch his nod, and they exchange a knowing glance. It’s a comfort to know that they’re ready to step in if things escalate.
Heath leans in closer, his gaze cutting through the noise around us, zeroing in on me with unnerving intensity. “Chunky,” he says, the nickname slipping off his tongue like a bad habit, “can we talk privately for a bit?”
Every instinct I have screams to stay put, to not let him get me alone again. But I also know Heath well enough to realise that if I refuse, he might make a scene—right here, right now. And the last thing I want is for everyone to witness whatever twisted game he’s playing.
I force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace, and nod toward the door. “We’ll just be outside.”
His eyes lock onto mine, and there’s something in them—a dark promise, an unspoken threat—that I’m not sure I want to understand. “Good choice.”