Chapter 13 #3
I could tell her everything. It’s an option.
Alex didn’t know the extent of Scarlet’s knowledge on the event that led to her father’s early retirement. He had no idea how he’d start that conversation.
The story Scarlet told earlier kept inching into his thoughts. He couldn’t help but wonder if their lives were more fatefully intertwined.
Alex’s attention fell on Scarlet’s desk. Lingering coldness tightened around his spine.
Her desk was like the rest of her room—organized, but above it was a mirror with various photos stuck around the frame in disarray. Most of the bent pictures were people he didn’t know, or her father and who he assumed were her mother and grandmother.
Among the various smiles, sticking out like red flag was the one face he didn’t want to see—the confirmation to Scarlet’s story. The photo was of two smiling young girls, posing in front of the Eiffel Tower.
Alex stared at it, transfixed and unable to breathe. Instinctively he reached for the photo, touching the glossy surface.
All it took was a few seconds—just a moment—to remember her face.
He forced his eyes closed, but the image was already burned in, and suddenly everything came rushing back.
Somewhere in his memories, Charles Pace’s voice found a way to his ears.
Promise me, you’ll get her out safe.
Alex always tried so hard to push everything back. He hadn’t thought about the consequences of reliving his mistakes. Those five minutes of his life he wished so fiercely he could change.
“Everything okay?” Scarlet’s voice sounded from the open doorway.
Alex opened his eyes, hastily retracted his hand, and backed away from the mirror. “Yes,” he said quickly. “Sorry. I wanted some privacy and the door was open. Didn’t mean to linger.”
Scarlet chuckled, looking from the mirror to his face. “It’s okay.”
Alex thought fast, clearing his throat to calm down. “Nice-looking family.”
He motioned to the photo of Scarlet and her parents. “Mom and Dad?”
She moved closer to him, making his throat tighten.
“Yeah.” She pointed. “And Grandmother. I keep this up because I miss her.” Her eyes traveled over the various photos.
“I miss most of the people up here.” She turned to him, managing a sad smile.
“My parents aren’t even a train ride away, but I still don’t see them much. Rehearsal schedules and all.”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
Alex locked eyes with her. “Uh.” He searched for the words. “Like I said, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You aren’t prying,” Scarlet said softly. She reached out a hand, softly grazing his suit jacket. Even with the layers of fabric between them, he felt her touch. It dared to provoke the emotion he tried to keep hidden.
Maybe it was the drink full of vodka Scarlet had that night, or that he chose to enter her room. The situation grew more and more complicated without his help. Alex wondered if some higher power was just screwing with him at this point.
It was quite clear he made the wrong choice, coming inside the house.
“I have to go.” He backed away from her so quickly, he stumbled over his own feet. Scarlet’s eyes went wide, and she reached out to help steady him.
Alex backed out into the hallway. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Lance needs me down at the office.”
“This late?” Scarlet crossed her arms in front of her.
“Yeah.” Alex walked to the front door. “We have a lot to get done before Saturday.” As he rested his hand on the doorknob, he turned back to Scarlet. He shrugged, unable to explain his behavior.
Scarlet smiled at him. “Thanks for keeping me company tonight.”
He nodded and opened the door. “You’re welcome.”
Nora was drunkenly climbing the stairs, carrying her shoes, as Alex stepped out. He met her inquiring gaze with a shaky smile.
“Oh.” Nora’s smile stretched. “Good evening again, Mr. Sterling.”
She bowed a little, winking as she passed him.
“Evening,” he replied. He held the door open for her, clearing his throat.
When she was safely inside with Scarlet, he hurried to the parked SUV, got in, and clutched the steering wheel tight. He sat there with his eyes closed, thinking about what he’d just seen.
It made sense to him. The photo that shook him was of Lena Pace. They were around the same age, and by default, they would have known each other in some form. Charles Pace and Mikael Rush must have been friends; ergo, their daughters were friends.
Suddenly, Alex was back in that consulate, negotiating with a shot Charles. He didn’t even need to dream anymore. Alex promised the man he’d save his daughter, and almost succeeded until he’d hesitated too long, underestimated firepower, and chosen the wrong path out.
Three years later, he never would have guessed the twisted road to reconciliation led to Scarlet Rush.
I never should’ve taken this job. It was too real, too painful.
Despite the need to protect Scarlet, he knew she’d end up hating him if she knew the truth.
Alex slowly opened his eyes, focusing on the street ahead. He allowed himself to think about the reality of the situation.
Lena Pace was dead, and it was his fault.