Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
TOBIAS
“Well, would you look at that. I didn’t even have to knock.” I smile down at Isla, all bundled up in a pink coat and matching hat, then glance at the suitcase on the floor beside Rebecca. I frown. “Going somewhere?”
She’s got the air of someone caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing. Her cheeks redden, and she tucks her chin. “Are you feeling better, Mr. De Vil?”
“Tobias, please. Yes, much. Still a little weak, but it takes more than a bullet to slow me down.” I jerk my chin at the suitcase. “What gives?”
“Oh.” She shrugs. “A family trip.”
“Last minute decision?”
“You could say that.” She nibbles her bottom lip.
“You weren’t going to call me?” I’m oddly put out.
No, it’s more than that. I’m disappointed, even though I shouldn’t be.
She’s not under any obligation to call me, but last week, she seemed desperate, and from the looks of her now, that’s still the case.
If anything, she looks more desperate. Something’s changed.
“I was. Truly. But…” She trails off, her gaze locked on her feet.
“Did Felton call you?”
Her features brighten for a second and she looks up. “Yes, he did. The police have dropped the charges. I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve saved my life twice now.”
“I wanted to help.” I lock eyes with her. “I still do. If something’s happened, please tell me.”
She shakes her head, but there’s a noticeable crack in her resolve.
I push my luck. “How about a cup of tea before you go?”
She slides her coat sleeve up and checks her watch. “I suppose since you’ve come all this way, a quick one won’t hurt.”
“Great.” I’ve got pretty good instincts, and mine are telling me that if I can prove to her that I’m trustworthy, she’ll open up to me. This isn’t a mother taking her daughter on holiday. It’s a terrified woman running from something.
She steps back to let me inside. “Let’s get your coat off.” Isla frowns even as she allows Rebecca to remove her coat. “Don’t worry. We’re still going on that adventure I promised you, but Mr. De Vil has come a long way to see us.”
Isla, in that wonderfully adaptive way kids seem to have, shrugs, then skips into the living room. Rebecca motions for me to follow her, and I do. Isla grabs the remote, points it at the TV, and curls up on the couch, her attention already absorbed by the cartoons.
Watching her, something shifts in my chest. Someday, I’d love to be a father.
I think I’d make a good one. I’m a brilliant uncle to my nephew Sasha.
The problem is, given my particular issues and proclivities, it’d have to be immaculate fucking conception.
I suppose a man can dream. Who knows, maybe one day I could adopt. It’s an option, for sure.
“Do you take milk and sugar?”
“Just milk. Thanks. I’m sweet enough.” I groan. “Damn. I can do better than worn out clichés. Give me a minute to come up with something.”
She looks at me as though she isn’t sure how to react, with her head tilted and a hint of a smile she’s trying to hold back. “Won’t be long. Make yourself at home.”
I wait for Rebecca to leave the room, then sit on the chair nearest to the window. Isla furtively looks at me before she hides her face behind her bear.
“Ooh, you’re watching Paw Patrol. This is my nephew’s favorite. Do you like dogs, Isla?”
She peeps at me from behind the cuddly toy. Slowly, she lowers him until he’s in her lap, and nods.
“So do I. My brother bought one for his wife. Her name’s Daisy, and she’s so cute. Would you like to see a picture?”
After another brief nod, I take out my phone and scroll until I find a picture of Daisy, the real boss of our house. She’s sitting on Victoria’s lap, gazing up at her adoringly.
“Can I sit next to you?”
She pats the space beside her. I get up from the chair and sit on the couch, then hand her my phone. She takes one look at Daisy and breaks into a wide grin. She points at the screen, then looks up at me questioningly.
“She’s a Bichon Frisé. Cute, isn’t she?”
“You’ve done it now.” Rebecca hands me a cup of tea. I notice she didn’t make one for herself. Polite British code for: drink your tea and leave. I want you out of here.
“She likes dogs?”
“Loves them. Marcus wouldn’t have one in the house, though.”
Another strike in the twat column for Marcus. I’ve yet to put anything in the positive column.
“As kids, we had dogs, although Daisy’s our first in a few years. Made me realize how much I’d missed having a dog about the place. She’s got us all wrapped around her little finger.”
“Is she yours?”
“No, my sister-in-law’s. My brother bought her as a Christmas present the year before last.”
“Are you from a big family?”
I nod. “Three older brothers and a younger sister. I did have another sister, but she… she died.”
“God, I’m sorry. How awful.”
She doesn’t know the half of it, and given what little I know about her violent life with Marcus, I’m not about to share the gory details.
“It was a long time ago. I have three sisters-in-law now, too, and a nephew, so yeah, the family’s getting bigger.”
“That’s nice.”
“What about you? Any siblings?”
She looks away. “One. We’re not close.”
Ah, I recognize that shutting of the door. She does it by closing off. My strategy is to tell a joke and hope no one sees the play. “She’s a wonderful kid, Rebecca.”
Her features soften. “She’s my whole world. You’re honored, you know. She wouldn’t let any of Marcus’s friends get this close to her. She’s naturally suspicious of people.”
“It’s a good trait to have. Most people are untrustworthy.”
She looks at me for a long moment. “Are you?”
“That’s not for me to say. You’ll have to decide for yourself. I prefer to let my actions speak for me.”
I take a sip of tea, then lean back, waiting for her to look at me.
Whatever that bastard did to this woman, he broke her.
She spends so much time looking at her feet, like she’s trying to be invisible, to not take up space, to hide.
I can only guess what horrors she went through before Frank put her abusive piece of shit husband in the ground.
I saw enough in one night to know she’s suffered beyond a regular person’s comprehension.
Ever since she came to see me in the hospital, I’ve tried to figure out why I care so much about a stranger. I could just throw money at the problem, give her a job, then leave her to get on with her life. But I don’t want to do that, and I’m not sure why.
Did that night connect us in some way? Bind us together through trauma?
I don’t know and until I figure it out, I’m going with it.
From what I’ve gleaned, she’s alone, and it’s clear that her in-laws have struck up some kind of smear campaign against her.
Only this morning I saw another article calling into question her mental acuity and ability to care for her kid.
It’s vile, it’s punching down, and if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s fucking bullies.
Rebecca needs someone on her side, and for whatever reason I don’t yet understand, I’ve decided that’s me.
Tentatively, her gaze flickers up. “Isla, can you go and play in your room for a few minutes? I need to speak with Mr. De Vil.”
Without question, Isla jumps off the couch, grabs her bear, and races upstairs. Rebecca waits for a few seconds, then gets up and closes the door to the living room. When she returns, she stands by the fireplace and wrings her hands.
“My in-laws are filing for custody of Isla, and I don’t know what to do.” She pauses, then her face crumples as quiet tears trickle down her cheeks. “I can’t let them take Isla, but I don’t know how to stop them.”
What a fucking bitch. I’ve come across Preston La Salle once or twice at various functions, and I can’t say I care for the man, but I’ve never met his wife.
“Here, come and sit down.”
When she does, I head into the kitchen. I can’t see any tissues, so I tear off a piece of kitchen paper and bring it to her. She takes it from me and dries her eyes, then blows her nose.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure you have enough problems of your own. You don’t need mine on top of everything else.”
“You let me be the judge of that. How do you know she wants custody of Isla?”
“A solicitor’s letter. It arrived today.”
“Can I see it?”
She gets up and leaves the room, returning a minute later with an envelope. I remove the sheath of papers and scan them.
“You were running, then?”
“Not were. Am. As soon as you’ve gone, I’m getting out of here. Felicity won’t stop until she gets what she wants, and I don’t have the means to fight her legally.”
She’s dropped mentioning Preston and focused in on the mother-in-law. That tells me who the boss of that family is.
“I have the means.” What kind of person tries to take a child from a mother as loving as Rebecca is with Isla?
“I can’t take your money.”
She’s proud, but in this case, pride will definitely come before a fall. She can’t outrun the law. They’ll find her, and her running will only increase the chances of losing Isla.
“Would you take a job in exchange?”
She narrows her eyes, her suspicion both evident and understandable. “In exchange for what?”
“I need an assistant.” She doesn’t need to know that’s a lie. A white lie told for good reasons.
“That’s kind of you, but I can’t stay in London. I just can’t, Tobias. I’m so sorry.”
“The job comes with accommodation. Somewhere the La Salle’s can’t access either you or Isla.”
“Where’s that? The moon?” The small laugh she emits is brittle, on edge. She’s panicking, and I can’t say I blame her. If I was in her shoes, I’d probably feel the same.
“Oakleigh.”
“What’s that?”
“My home. Well, my family’s home.”
“Your… your home? I can’t stay at your home. I’m sure there isn’t room.”
I almost laugh, but I hold it in. In all likelihood, my amusement at her innocent remark won’t be seen as such by her.
“Oakleigh has over seven hundred rooms. There’s plenty of space. You and Isla can have your own suite.”