Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ISABELLE
Iswear I could feel their hands on me all the time. They weren’t, obviously. In fact, in the two days since the workshop, it had been PG kisses and lusting glances, but for some reason Alex had sunk into a deeper mood and everyone was playing neutral.
If I hadn’t been leaving in the coming weeks, I’d have said his distaste for me was a significant problem for our relationships.
But given that this was all going to be a distant memory in the next few weeks, I wasn’t going to address the elephant in the room. Or more appropriately, the raging bull.
Ben was more relaxed than he had been, and Seb watched me with a blend of desire and then awe.
I could feel him observing every interaction Ben and I had, the show making him inconceivably happy.
However, the same show made Alex angrier.
I suspected that was the driver behind the careful distance Seb and Ben maintained.
Although, thinking about it, if I was leaving, and I was, I wanted to live out my Isabelle-sandwich-fantasy as much as possible in the weeks – I hoped – I had left.
I toyed with the paper in my fingers. Three weeks, Christian had said. That was this weekend – tomorrow. Not that weekends and weekdays bore any influence on my routine. The reminder of which chilled me every time I considered it.
A huge crash from downstairs distracted me from the frankly quite painful thoughts. Raised voices followed. Three of them.
“Alex!” a voice was calling, no doubt after the pounding footsteps I could hear ascending the stairs. “Stop!”
More thundering footsteps followed until they halted at my door, but only for a moment, before it swung in with ridiculous force and slammed against the wall. I grimaced at the dent it would have left in the plaster.
“Isabelle.” Alex strode into the room.
“Alex,” I replied as Seb entered the room behind him, Ben was a shadow remaining out in the hallway.
Alex’s chest heaved, but where his body language screamed fury, his expression was something else. His lips pulled downward and he looked at me with slitted eyes, puzzling, searching for something in me that he hadn’t seen before.
“You seem upset?” I asked, remaining seated in the bay under the warmth of the winter sun. Between that and the radiator beside me this was the snuggest spot I had found, beside the sofa in front of the fire.
As if remembering himself, Alex wiped any hints of humanity from his face, returning to the Alex I was more familiar with – cold and unreadable.
“Anything to confess?” he snarled.
The tension coiled in his shoulders and jaw, his demeanour shrouded in fury. Although, I could see that despite the way he was speaking to me, he was still holding something back.
I’d hate to see him fully lose it.
I gave him my blankest stare. He’d decided on airing his concerns like a prosecuting barrister – he wasn’t leading me anywhere.
“Let me give you a little hint. I’ve had a call from the police, again.” He looked expectant now.
“And?” I bit back the sarcasm and the temptation of giving my most saccharine smile, just to torment him. He had confirmed exactly what this was about, but he’d have to say it.
Seb shifted his body between Alex and my window seat, offering me an apologetic smile. I simply frowned, shaking my head. This was nothing to do with him, he didn’t need to look so guilty.
“You said office. Not the office.” He stomped closer but Seb shifted to intercept.
“What office? Did something happen in the office?” Ben had stepped into view, framed by the doorway. While he was evidently worried for his brother, he spoke to me.
As much as I wanted to reassure him, Alex was the imminent concern. Huge, overbearing and absolutely furious. I’d never felt physically threatened by Alex – his speciality was making me feel wholly unwelcome – but now he was beginning to vibrate.
“You didn’t want to know. Remember?” I asked. I made a point of sounding non-confrontational, any temptation to poke the beast was now well and truly dead in the water and I wanted to de-escalate.
I realised that this was my reality, and an inevitability that at some point they would know, but exactly who I was would likely be a surprise to them – unless they were really into political movers and shakers, which I had clocked was thankfully not the case.
And even if they were, I wasn’t that well known.
“You should have damned well insisted on fucking telling me!” he raged.
“Alex.” Ben finally moved inside the room, placing himself between the wall of rage that was his brother and both Seb and me. “Nothing can be as bad as you’re thinking.”
“It’s fucking worse.” He sidestepped his brother but Ben smoothly planted himself back in his path.
“Ben.” I smiled at him when he turned to me. “It’s okay. Alex is upset at me, and understandably. I can handle him.”
Ben’s brow furrowed.
“Alex, would you care to elaborate?” Seb was sidling towards me and when he finally came close enough, he pulled me from my seat and tucked me under his arm. After I was safely in his hold, Ben visibly relaxed.
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll show you. All of you!” Alex spun, storming from the room, the stairs creaking under him as he thundered down them.
“Come on.” I stepped to follow but Seb’s hand tightened on my shoulder.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
I nodded. “You would have found out soon enough. You can decide if you feel similarly to Alex, when you have the full picture. But Alex, he’s already quite upset, so…” I dragged him with me to the hall; he gathered Ben along the way and allowed me to lead him after the tornado that was Alex.
The sound of the TV volume increasing met us part way down the stairs. From the droning voices, I knew it was the news. The news about me.
We all stopped in front of their large TV, turned to the twenty-four-hour news channel.
A banner rolled across the bottom of the screen, the news reporter droning on about the story.
brEAKING NEWS
“…the family of Miss Blackthorne are said to be inconsolable at their daughter’s disappearance, which we understand took place several weeks ago.
Only days before what was coined to be the wedding of the season between the Secretary of State’s eldest daughter and her long-term fiancé, Theodore Fairchild. ”
A picture from one of the many galas flashed up on screen. I looked every part the well-raised daughter of the influential politician.
I could see Alex trembling with irritation in the corner. He collapsed down onto the armchair but stood again instantly.
“It is understood that the families sought to resolve this privately but are now asking for the public’s assistance. Substantial rewards are being offered for any information that leads to her safe return. Her husband-to-be offered our team of reporters a few words earlier today.”
The screen cut to Teddy standing on the stone steps leading to their family home in Belgravia.
His suit was a dark blue, a shade lighter than the black someone would associate with loss.
His hair was styled perfectly to look just dishevelled enough to appear distressed, but I knew differently, the man was always perfectly coiffed to look like he had only recently woken up, and the appearance took forever to create.
His eyes were what gave him away to me though. To anyone else he would look dismayed, the slight red rim below his long lashes, something that could easily be attributed to sleepless nights and the anguish of losing a loved one.
But I knew him better, and that was rage.
“Mr Fairchild! Mr Fairchild! Anything to say?” The clip showed reporters clamouring, the flash of camera bulbs lighting up his face despite it being broad daylight.
Teddy frowned, lips pulling downwards as he slowed, his steady swallow a beautiful manipulation, like a man struggling for words.
Struggling for composure more like.
“Please, please.” The reporters’ cries died down when he began to speak.
At first his voice sounded raw, sore, but he cleared his throat and, like magic, the coarseness was gone. “I’m sure you can understand this is a horrific time for our families, and we are desperately concerned for our dearest Izzy.”
My stomach turned. Liar.
“All we ask is that she is returned safely to us. She was so hopelessly excited for our wedding day. We all were. And for the picture of a future we had painted together over the last fifteen years.” The assembled news teams muttered sympathetically.
“Our time together, truly together, was just beginning, and I beg anyone who knows where she is. Please, help to return her to me.” He paused. “Return her to us.”
His eyes were watering. I hated it. The snort of outright derision was out of my mouth before I could choke on it.
The reporter on the TV had resumed their report, noting the obvious distress of an adoring husband, and fawning over the fairytale couple.
I was unable to watch him anymore, dropping my attention to my hands.
The volume clicked off and I resisted the lead heaviness of my body, forcing myself to turn to the men loitering around me.
Alex held the remote, his ‘see?’ expression seeking exoneration as he looked to Seb and then Ben.
The ending of my time with these men was coming sooner than I’d allowed myself to hope. Something I would never have imagined having had in a million lifetimes. But I could manage the loss, providing that it wasn’t steeped in hatred.
I glanced to Seb, his face an impassive mask. Then to Ben, whose attention remained only on Alex.
“See?” Alex asked, waiting on their agreement with his shock and horror.
“Yes?” Seb’s question had Alex recoiling like he’d been struck and I didn’t feel too dissimilar. “And?”
“What do you mean ‘and’?” Alex pointed the remote to the TV then to me. “That’s her.”
“Obviously.” Ben lowered himself onto a sofa and Alex watched him like a cornered animal.
“Obviously she’s the daughter of the goddamned Secretary of State for Social Order and Families!”
“Yes, we know who Edmund Blackthorne is.” Seb finally moved, taking a hold of me and pushing me backwards until I fell onto the other sofa. He then pointed at me sternly before disappearing into the kitchen and snagging a bottle, which turned out to be vodka.
“She’s his goddamned daughter. She’s been moulded in his image; she’s spent ten fucking years studying his policy, if the reports are to be believed. She’s a feather in his political cap! And everything we fucking despise,” Alex roared.
Now it was my turn to feel as though I’d been slapped.
The carefully constructed image that perpetuated my freedom would be a hard one to explain away, if they even let me.
“Is that so?” Seb passed the bottle to me and I took several large swigs.
“Is that so?” If I thought Alex couldn’t get louder, I was wrong.
“The woman who was clearly running from something that terrified her enough to trudge through one of the worst storms on record? The woman who looks like she’s either going to pass out or throw up after seeing her doting fiancé on the TV? We’re talking about the same woman?” Seb clarified.
Alex swallowed, finally looking at me but I avoided his gaze. Seb was right. I was barrelling towards either unconsciousness or vomit. I drank again, relieved that Seb hadn’t taken back the bottle. I hoped for unconsciousness, but if that was not to be, I could add fuel to the nausea fire.
“You knew it was something of that ilk, Alex, don’t play dumb.
” Seb’s accusation landed and Alex paled, his rage shrinking somewhat.
“Yes, her family is pretty much one of the worst ones for our little runaway to be associated with. Yes, it would be much easier if she was just a small-town girl from the north. But does it change anything, really?”
Alex opened his mouth to speak before clamping it shut, but Seb was quiet now, forcing Alex to fill the silence and reply.
Instead of formulating an actual argument, he turned his attention on his brother.
“Ben?” he pleaded.
Ben didn’t look at me; he didn’t look at Seb either.
Slowly he exhaled a deep breath. “Seb’s right.
She was running from something big. The only thing that has changed between her arrival and now is that we know what.
” His brows bunched in a deep frown and my stomach turned.
Here comes the vomit. But then, to my surprise, he broke into a huge smile, then a light blush.
“Well, that’s not quite the only thing that’s changed. ”
“Holy shit.” Alex scrubbed his hand over his stubble, the fight draining from his features. “You’ll both look past this, won’t you?”
Ben nodded and the numbness that I realised had overtaken some of my body retreated. “There’s nothing really to overlook. She’s the victim here, Alex. Not us.”
Alex stood so suddenly I recoiled, the other men didn’t.
“Alex.” Ben rose to meet him as he spoke, his voice so soft, like he was actually speaking to a scared beast. “She’s a victim of the system her father helped to create.” Alex frowned, shaking his head. “The one built on the foundations laid by our father.”