Chapter 9
T he mobile phone vibrated on the oak bedside table. Once. Twice. Annie sighed and sat up in bed. She checked her phone and tensed as a message from Darren appeared.
Darren: “You can’t hide forever. And when I find you, you’ll regret not replying to me”
She blocked his number again, but it felt like a lost cause—he used a new number every time she blocked one. Despair washed over her as she gazed out the window at the sunlit orchard. Birds chirped as if there were no troubles in the world, and the breeze carried the rejuvenating scent of morning dew, with hints of lilac and freshly cut grass.
The suitcase lay open in the room’s corner, its contents strewn about like the remnants of Annie’s hope. Returning to her sister’s place or her parents’ home was out of the question now. He knew about them, and Annie was certain he would have his guys watching. Fortunately, she didn’t need to worry about her family’s safety. Lou was safely away, and if it came down to a showdown between her mother and any thug, Annie would bet on her mother. Besides, he wouldn’t hurt them; he only wanted Annie.
She faced two choices: run away and start a new life, with no money to speak of and no job, cutting all ties with her family, no matter how thin and strained they were, or stay here for a while. It was fake, but safe. And as her father said, if Conrad signed off on the cottage, she would get more of the inheritance money and could leave this infuriating man and build the future for her kid.
And help them con him out of the promised money?
She shrugged.
It wasn’t his, to begin with.
It was Lou’s, and he shouldn’t have bet on using her money for his own benefit. Bloody men, they wanted to have it all.
Her parents had no right to gift Louise’s money. They would have to come up with an alternative. That was on them and not on Annie. And she would tell them to make it right by him. With the catering healthy income and the money from the inheritance, they could surely cut a new deal and get Conrad off her back.
Resolved, Annie now needed to mend fences with Conrad. A memory of last night’s argument, ending with a slammed door, flashed through her mind. Had he even returned yet? Annie gasped, covering her mouth. Had she wiped that message off the chalkboard? If not, it would be hard to explain. She hurried out of her room to check.
The message on the blackboard mocked her. She glanced around, but the house was quiet. Wetting a strip of kitchen towel, she quickly wiped it clean. With any luck, Conrad hadn’t seen it when he had returned yesterday.
Relieved, Annie returned to her room, slipped into her bathrobe, and grabbed her toiletry bag for the bathroom. Just as she tiptoed down the hallway, the door to Conrad’s room creaked open, revealing him in his boxer shorts, hair tousled and eyes puffy.
They both froze.
Annie clutched her bag to her chest. “I can wait.” She wanted to comment on his dishevelled appearance, but remembered she needed to make amends, not fan the flames.
“I can wait,” she repeated, turning to retreat to her bedroom.
“No, no. Please. I’ll go after you,” he rasped, closing his door without waiting for her response.
Annie shrugged and headed to the bathroom. A quick shower invigorated her, washing away her worries with hot, steamy water. Her hair felt bouncy after drying it with a towel, though she regretted not buying a hairdryer the day before.
As she walked past his door on the way back, Annie gave it a quick knock and called, “All yours,” before hurrying back to her room. She closed her door just as his opened.
Yesterday’s clothes lay in a heap. She held them in her hands, missing that fresh laundry scent. Deciding against them, still in her bathrobe, she peeked out of her room. With the sound of running water in the bathroom, she dashed to the dining room, grabbed the shopping bags, and returned in a few strides.
The leggings had a smooth finish and hugged her legs snugly, while the sweater enveloped her in warmth and softness. They seemed to infuse her with strength, as if whispering, “This is the beginning of something better, a better life.” She knew it wasn’t her life, but at that very moment, she needed to believe it was.
The water ceased, and she heard the door open and then shut. Annie left her room and entered the kitchen. She opened the fridge, its emptiness mirroring her own stomach—only a box of Lurpak, a bag of coffee beans, half a pint of milk, and a lone lemon that rolled out and fell to the floor. She picked it up and placed it in the fridge drawer. There were no eggs.
Hunger gnawed at her insides. She had only eaten a piece of cold pizza last night. The bread bin contained out-of-date, but not yet mouldy bread. Rummaging through the cupboards, she discovered a tin of Heinz beans.
“Beans on toast it is, then,” she murmured, pushing two slices of bread into a toaster. As she searched for a can opener, Conrad appeared in the doorway.
“Morning.” His voice was still hoarse.
Annie glanced at him, dressed in jeans and a white polo shirt accentuating his tan arms.
“Morning.” She sounded as cheerful as she could manage under the circumstances. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Black.” Annie turned toward the coffee machine, but he added, “You don’t need to make me one.”
“It’s no trouble.” She waved her hand. “And you look like you need one. Besides, I’m making breakfast.” Annie placed the mug under the spout and pressed the double cup button. The machine whirred, and hot liquid squirted down.
“You look lovely in those clothes. Great choice.” He stood right beside her. A slight scent of an exotic cologne stirred her senses.
“Thanks.” She smiled.
Annie wanted to say something about last night, but her voice caught in her throat. She was worried he might ask her to leave, that things were not working out. She bit her nail, her eyes flicking to his face for any sign of what he might be thinking.
***
?
T he aroma of freshly brewed coffee and toasted bread wafted through the kitchen as Conrad braced himself for the conversation that lay ahead. He still couldn’t gauge whether his wife was angry or simply indifferent. The clatter of plates and cutlery punctuated the silence, but Conrad decided to break the ice.
“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I wanted you to feel like a princess, you know. Isn’t that every woman’s dream—to be looked after like that?”
Louise smirked, buttering the toast. “I’m not a princess and never wanted to be one. I’ve always been more interested in what I could achieve myself than being handed everything on a silver plate.”
She glanced up at him, her eyes softening. “How many slices of toast do you want?”
Conrad shook his head. “You don’t have to do that for me.”
Louise rolled her eyes. “I’m already making them for myself, so it’s no trouble.”
“Alright, two would be great,” he said as he opened the fridge.
Shit.
He’d forgotten the grocery shopping. Milk for his wife’s coffee and a forgotten half-empty marmalade jar were the only things he could contribute to breakfast.
Handing her plates as she needed them, he placed the salt and pepper shakers on the dining table, returning for her coffee mug as she carried the full plates to the table. They worked together like a well-oiled machine, their movements fluid and in sync.
Louise sighed, taking a seat at the table. “I’m sorry, too. I should’ve told you I didn’t like what you were doing instead of yelling and stealing your ride.”
“Oh yeah, you had poor old Colton wrapped around your finger.” Conrad chuckled. “But seriously, tell me what I should’ve done differently.”
Louise took a sip of her coffee. “I would’ve preferred if you’d just asked for my opinion yesterday.”
Conrad furrowed his brow. “But I thought you wanted to go shopping, and we agreed to have dinner later.”
“Yeah, but you decided for me what I was going to wear and where to buy my clothes,” she pointed out, her tone light but firm.
“But Mr Klatz could get you anything you wanted,” Conrad defended himself.
Louise shook her head. “I didn’t want it like that, because I like roaming around my favourite shops. I enjoy the experience.”
“You enjoy the experience?”
She nodded, taking a small bite of her toast.
My worst nightmare.
Even thinking about crowded shops on a Sunday afternoon sent shivers down his spine, like walking through a maze of mirrors, each reflection a sea of bodies, endlessly multiplying and closing in.
“I always preferred having my measurements taken and then ordering a week’s worth of fitting clothes.”
“Well, I hate fuss like that.” Louise took a sip of her coffee and nudged the leaflets neatly stacked at the corner of the table—no doubt brought by Colton.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” she asked, pushing the brochures around, none of them catching her attention. “It’s Monday, isn’t it? I think my parents mentioned you planned to meet with the solicitor about the paperwork?”
“Oh, well, that can wait.”
Until I know your intentions.
“So?” Louise cocked her head, her eyes focused on his.
“Well ... ”
Now it got tricky. In the past, he would have played the surprise card and whisked her away to some exotic, expensive location. But his gut told him that wouldn’t be well received under the circumstances. He had no other ideas about how to impress her enough to win her cooperation.
Conrad leaned back in his chair, his voice softening. “You tell me. I meant it when I said I wanted you to feel special. So, tell me—what would make you happy? Going away for a week, somewhere warm or cold, maybe? And how’s your ankle?”
“My ankle is much better, thanks. And no, not away. I like it here. Plus, I don’t have my passport.”
That killed the idea of getting closer under the tropical sun. Not that Conrad could afford to fly anywhere, but sometimes investments like that were necessary for future gains.
“So, what would you like to do then?”
Louise stroked the sleeve of her sweater—the one Conrad had brought back from the shop yesterday. Was now a good time to point out that he had been the one to buy it? He scratched his chin. Maybe later.
Conrad shifted in his chair, which screeched on the wooden floor, breaking the lengthening silence.
“Well, I still don’t have enough clothes.” She gestured to her outfit. “Thank you for bringing them back. They’re lovely.”
Conrad nodded, hiding a smile. A point for him.
“And I noticed a shopping mall with my favourite brands on the way to Mr Klatz’s place.”
Nooo! Conrad swallowed, bracing himself internally for the horrific experience. But nothing worthwhile came easy.
“So, you’d like to go shopping in Bath, but your way. Am I right?”
A wide smile brightened her face, her eyes sparkling as dimples appeared on her cheeks. The entire room seemed to light up.
“Absolutely.” She reached out and touched his arm. “Thank you for listening.” The warmth of her touch travelled along Conrad’s spine, sparking a cascade of tingles.
“Okay, I’ll let Colton know our plans.” He reached for his phone to call his assistant.
“Do you always make Colton drive you everywhere?” Her surprise seemed genuine, without a hint of sarcasm.
It was a good question. But since the only presentable car was Colton’s Tesla, there wasn’t much of a choice for getting out and about.
“Well, he was coming here anyway, to pick up the—” Conrad waved his hand, searching for inspiration around the room. “Books, yes, for the accountant. Month’s end and whatnot.”
Without giving her a chance to react to his rambling, Conrad speed-dialled Colton while carrying his mug to the coffee machine for a refill.
“Good morning, Colton. I hope you won’t mind, but my wife would like to go shopping in Bath today.”
“Beg pardon, but with you, sir?”
Conrad chuckled. “Yes, with me. I know. But she wants to go to a shopping mall this time.” The coffee machine whirred and sputtered as if sensing Conrad’s unspoken emotions.
“Oh, I see. I’ll be on my way then. I should arrive within half an hour.”
“That’s fantastic, thank you.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
After ending the call and grabbing his full mug, Conrad strolled back to Louise. “He’ll be here in thirty minutes. Would you like another coffee?”
She shook her head, so he sat down. Turning the mug in his hands, he took a deep breath.
Better sooner than later.
“About that arrangement ... you know, your marriage fund?” Conrad let the question hang while he sipped his coffee in silence.
Louise tilted her head but said nothing.
There was no backing out now. “At the wedding, you acted like you weren’t aware of that part of the deal?” The silence grew louder as Conrad finished his coffee, waiting for his wife to open up.
And it paid off.
“I was simply confused.” She got up from her chair and began collecting the plates, as if this was the end of the conversation.
“That’s good.” Conrad forced a chuckle. “You got me real worried.”
A half-smile appeared on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and she rushed to the kitchen. Fishy. Conrad grabbed the salt and pepper shakers and followed her.
“So, that marriage fund thing ... it’s kind of sexist, don’t you think?”
That got a reaction; her cheeks reddened.
“Yeah, it looks that way, doesn’t it? I guess my grandma was old-fashioned when it came to tradition.”
Conrad stood with his mouth open. What did her grandma have to do with this? Another puzzle to solve? “Your grandma?”
“They didn’t tell you?” Louise smiled—a genuine smile this time, with tiny wrinkles radiating from her eyes in a burst of diverging lines.
“It was a tradition in my family for generations, and my grandma wanted us—” She cleared her throat. “Me, to have it. In her eyes, it was a sign of partnership.” Louise used her hands to emphasise her point. “That a woman would bring to the marriage as much as, or maybe even more than, the man. You know.”
“Well.” Conrad shrugged. “I don’t know.”
It was a strange way of putting it. To him, it sounded like telling a guy that marrying this woman came with a hefty paycheck. Wasn’t that like a bargain?
“Me and you both. I loved my grandma, but this—” She practically spat out the word, pointing at some imaginary stack of money. “I find it the most chauvinistic way of putting a value on a woman.”
Conrad exhaled and chuckled. “Oh my God. I’m so glad you said that. That’s exactly what I thought.” Or close enough, anyway. At least they agreed on something.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” Her chuckle was more sombre.
Conrad shifted from one foot to the other. He was clearly missing something. “What is?”
“That you think this way, yet the only reason we got married was that money.” She scoffed, crossing her arms.
“Oh, come on. Not only.” He raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “The reason you entered this marriage was to get the cottage.” Conrad pointed at the meticulously polished floors—his cleaner was a wonder woman as the floors stayed shiny after days of use.
Louise opened her mouth, to argue the point no doubt, but the bell rang, and Colton entered, bringing in the smell of damp earth.?