Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
IMOGEN
I should have guessed Alexander didn’t have the patience to sit and wait for the ax to fall on our marriage. He’s a man of action, of decisions, of calculated outcomes. He’s used to getting what he wants, and this time, it’s me he’s set his sights on.
At first, the gifts start off small. Avocado toast with greens and Sriracha sauce from a local deli for breakfast. A box of sweet treats from Madeleine’s; my number one bakery. White and yellow lilies that smell divine and are my favorite flower. I’m guessing Mom has been talking, or he’s had one of his team do some digging on the things I like.
When I don’t call, he ups his game. An elegant diamond ring and matching earrings from Tiffany’s. A pair of supple leather riding boots with my initials engraved on the side. A stunning crystal chess set that makes my heart ache.
The problem is, I’m still no closer to a decision. I’ve done a lot of soul searching since leaving Oakleigh, and if I think about it logically, the tracker makes sense. It’s not the device itself I have an issue with; it’s that Alexander decided for me without consultation.
Although… if I’m being fair, he did give me the cell phone first, and he told me that had a tracker in it. I was the one who activated my stubborn streak and chose to leave the phone behind so he wouldn’t know where I was.
The truth is, we’re both at fault. We’re as bad as one another.
With distance, I’ve realized it’s the no kids thing that I’m having trouble accepting. While the idea of providing heirs as part of some arrangement my father made with Charles De Vil has always been abhorrent to me, it was the forced nature of it I railed against. I’ve always wanted children, but with a man of my choice.
Somehow, Alexander became that man, but now, there’s a price attached. Am I willing to pay that price? Will I live a fulfilling life without children? Lots of people do it. The question I have to answer is whether I’m one of them.
I just don’t know.
The following morning, I get up before dawn and dress in shorts and a T-shirt. Being close to the ocean often helps me think, and if I go now, I’ll get some peace before the crowds descend.
As I step onto the sidewalk, the bodyguards who’ve guarded the house and followed me every time I’ve left fall into step behind me. Even now, with our marriage at a fork in the road, Alexander makes sure I’m safe.
My chest hurts. I miss him. We may have only known each other for two and a half months, but the heart knows the truth, and my truth is that I am desperately in love with my husband. There has to be a way for us to work through this .
A few joggers are out, and one or two yoga enthusiasts have set up camp on the beach, but mostly, it’s empty. Waves float into shore, gentle and calming. I sit cross-legged on the sand, conscious of the bodyguards standing a few feet away. I close my eyes and block them out, allowing my mind to only think of Alexander and the conundrum he’s placed in my lap.
Why do people have children? Societal pressures? Because it’s expected of them? Because it’s an extension of the love they have for their partner?
The better question is why do I want them? Or think I want them. Is it a primal need? An urge I can’t deny? Or is it something I can decide to ignore, to choose a different path for myself? And is what we want now the same as we’ll want in ten or fifteen years’ time?
“It’s beautiful here.”
I startle, clasping my chest. “You scared me.”
Alexander sits beside me, as out of place as can be, even though he’s not wearing a tie. Open necked dress shirts and pants aren’t exactly beach attire, but also, if he was sitting here in shorts and a T-shirt like me, it’d look odd on him. This is who he is.
“How did you know I was here?” He arches a brow, and I shake my head. “Forget I asked.”
“Your security detail called me to say you’d left the house.”
“Oh. So, you haven’t been stalking me through the tracker?”
His lips lift on one side. “No.”
“If I agree to never go anywhere without security, will you let me take it out?”
“No.”
“Why not? ”
“Because security isn’t infallible. The tech that’s keeping you safe is.”
“Tech is infallible, too. Didn’t you see last week’s societal meltdown when half the social media apps stopped working?”
“I don’t use social media.”
“Well, I’m saying it can break.”
“Theirs may break. Mine won’t.”
I heave a sigh and stare at the waves. The breeze has picked up a little, making them bigger, frothier. The surfers will be happy.
“Ego comes before a fall.”
“It’s pride. Pride comes before a fall.”
“Same difference.”
A chuckle rumbles through his chest. “I have missed you, Imogen. More than I can explain.” He slides a hand around my neck and presses my head to his shoulder. “I’m lonely without you. My bed is cold, and my heart is empty. Please tell me how to fix this.”
I’m joking when I say, “Get a tracker put in your arm, so I can track you whenever I feel like it.”
He unfastens the button on his cuffs and rolls up his sleeve. There’s a tiny bruise on the outside of his arm. “Already did.”
My eyes flare wide. “You didn’t?”
He extends his hand. “Give me your phone.”
I fish it out of my pocket and hand it over. He raises it to my face to unlock the screen, then taps away for a few seconds. When he hands it back to me, there’s a flashing red dot on the screen and a map that shows where that dot is. Right here, on the beach. Sitting beside me.
“I can’t believe you did that. ”
He rolls down his sleeve. “I’m not being misogynistic when I say you’re more vulnerable than I am. It’s the truth. You are. But if this makes you feel as though we’re a partnership, that we’re in this together, then I’m glad I did it.”
I bow my head. “I know you only did it to protect me, not control me.”
“I did. Your safety is all I care about.” He kisses my hair. “And on the subject of children, what do we do about that?”
“You’re set on no kids.”
“Yes. I… I can’t Imogen. I find it hard enough to sleep as it is. If I had a child, the fear of something happening would take over my life. It would paralyze me.”
“You could always put a tracker in them.” I laugh to let him know I’m not being serious, but his entire body tenses.
“It’s… an idea.”
I sit up straight. “Alexander, it was a joke. You can’t inject a baby with some foreign piece of tech.”
“I can if it will protect them.”
“No. That’s a step too far.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not sure it would make me feel better, anyway.” Sighing, he adds, “Where do we go from here?”
He’s so earnest, his amber eyes boring into mine, his handsome face pleading with me to choose him over the possibility of having children. God, he’s beautiful. I thought he was only shades of gray, but I see the color in him now, and it’s dazzling.
“I wish I had my drawing pad.”
His brow furrows. “Why?”
“Because you’re stunning, and I want to draw you.”
Cupping my face, he leans toward me and kisses my forehead. “Then, come home, and you can draw me whenever you like.”
The waves pick up, crashing onto the shore instead of gently lapping like they were when I first arrived. It’s as if nature is telling me it’s decision time, but there’s something else I want to know before I make that decision. Alexander is in a vulnerable state and is less likely to avoid a direct question—one I’ve asked my parents several times, but never gotten a satisfactory answer to.
“Why did my father sell me to you?”
He works his jaw in a tight circle. “What did he tell you?”
“I’m asking you, not him.”
“You won’t like the answer.”
Prickles race across the back of my neck. “That’s for me to decide.”
“You’re right.” He angles his body away from mine. “Do you know how your father makes a living, Imogen?”
I hitch a shoulder. “Not in detail. He’s a businessman.”
“He’s an arms dealer.”
My spine stiffens. “How do you know?”
“Years ago, your father was trying to break into the European market. He needed the supply channels opening up. He contacted my father for help and offered the only thing of value that he owned in exchange for the contacts my father had.”
My eyes glaze over. “Me.”
“Yes, you. And while your family wasn’t on a par with ours in terms of money or power, whatever your dad said got through to mine, and he made the deal.”
No wonder every time I brought this up my mom and dad would avoid the issue. My father sold me to further his business interests .
“Hey.” Alexander turns my face to his and waits for me to meet his gaze. “I know what you’re thinking, but listen to me. This is how things are done in our circles. It doesn’t mean your father and mother don’t love you. They do. Very much. I’m grateful for that deal. It brought you to me.”
“But… he sold me so he could make more money selling weapons that kill people. That’s… disgusting.”
“It’s business.” He grimaces. “I don’t mean that as harshly as it sounds, but you’re looking at this the wrong way. He didn’t sell you. He ensured you’d always be well taken care of. And as for the guns… that’s life, Imogen.”
In his world, and my father’s it seems, I guess he’s right. If I want to make this marriage work, I have to accept that it’s my world now, too.
The conversation with Charles when we danced at my wedding pops into my mind. Arranged marriages have a far higher success rate than those where couples meet by chance.
“Don’t be mad at your parents.”
I shake my head. “I’m not.” But I will revisit this conversation at some point in the future. I’ve heard Alexander’s side of it. One day, I’d like to hear my father’s, too.
“Please, come home. I love you, and I want you by my side. Forever.”
The last shreds of my resolve melt away. I love him, and I want to be with him. “I’ll come home… on one condition.”
His head dips. “Imogen, I can’t?—”
I place a finger over his lips. He thinks he knows what I’m going to say, but he’s wrong.
“If you ever change your mind about children, however many years into the future that may be, you tell me.”
He cups my face, his large hands covering both my cheeks. “Baby, I don’t see it happening. ”
“None of us know what the future holds. Not even you.”
He pokes his tongue into the side of his cheek. “True. And yes, I can give you that concession, but I have a condition of my own.”
“Which is?”
“Don’t pin your hopes on it happening.”
“I won’t. I promise. Plus, I’ll have nieces and nephews to babysit. Added bonus, I can give them back when they won’t stop crying.” I frown. “Unless your brothers and sister feel the same way about kids as you do.”
“They don’t. I’m the fucked-up one. Nicholas will probably impregnate Elizabeth on their wedding night.”
“You’re not fucked up. A horrifying experience changed the way you think. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s terribly sad, but I understand it. Truly, I do.”
He leans in and kisses me. “I love you, Mrs. De Vil.”
“I love you, Mr. De Vil, faults and all.”
The last month since returning home with Alexander has been filled with joy beyond anything I could have imagined. I’ve settled back into life at Oakleigh—a place I now think of as home. A couple of weeks ago, on my twenty-second birthday, Alexander took me out riding. He’d arranged for a picnic to be set up in one of the upper paddocks that gave a wonderful view of Oakleigh, and after we returned to the stables, there was Sundance, with a big red bow tied around his neck. My husband’s gift to me. I couldn’t imagine a better present than a horse I felt a connection to the moment he arrived .
Three days ago, I started working for Zenith. For now, I’m working out of Oakleigh—in Alexander’s mom’s old office no less—but when the time comes for me to travel to Malawi, Alexander has said he’ll accompany me for however long I need to be there.
While there are occasions I think about kids and how I won’t ever be a mother, my love for Alexander is greater than my desire to have children. I’m happy with my choice. All I want is him.
To prove how comfortable I am with my decision, I took the initiative and booked a follow-up appointment with his doctor for a top up of my contraception. Alexander has warned me that before long, his father will start asking questions about why I’m not pregnant yet. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, but for now, I’m enjoying being back in the arms of my husband.
The temperatures have cooled in the last couple of days. Fall, or autumn, as they say in England, isn’t far away. I can’t wait to see the trees change color from green to golds, bronzes, and reds. Though I have a while to wait, according to Alexander, it still can’t come soon enough. We also have Nicholas and Elizabeth’s wedding to look forward to, and I’m eager to see Vicky again.
After what happened with my abduction, her parents sent her away for a few weeks to “Think about her actions.” Luckily, we have phones and have kept in touch. Poor Vicky blamed herself as much as her parents seemed to, but I’ve managed to reassure her that the choices were mine and mine alone, and therefore, if anyone is to blame for what happened, it’s me.
I fire up my laptop, but while I wait for it to boot up, I cross the office and stand in front of a painting I’ve become obsessed with. It doesn’t matter how many times I look at it, I’m still in awe. It’s of a gorgeous sunset, and the oranges, golds, and bronzes of the piece are stunning. The beauty Alexander’s mom captured within the painting is incredible. It takes my breath away.
“She was a marvelous artist.”
I turn and smile at my husband as he strolls over to stand beside me. “She certainly was.”
“Landscapes were her thing,” he says. “She’d often head off somewhere on the estate, returning hours later with a painting of a scene that had caught her eye. My father keeps most of them in storage now, but for a few years after she died, they were dotted around the house.”
“You must miss her terribly.” I can’t imagine losing my mom. We have our fights, as I imagine most mothers and daughters do, but to know I’d never see her again would devastate me.
In the end, I decided not to confront my parents with what Alexander had shared with me on the beach in California. If they’d wanted me to know why they made that agreement with Charles, they wouldn’t have avoided the subject every time I raised it. Now I’ve sat with it for a bit, their reasoning doesn’t matter to me anymore.
“It gets easier to live with. Grief isn’t something you put in a box and forget about. It’s with you every minute of the day, but most of the time it’s suppressed. Then, out of the blue, it’ll get triggered, and suddenly you can’t breathe. It’s brutal and ruthless.” He rests his chin on the top of my head, and his arms snake around my waist. “That’s what it felt like for me when you weren’t by my side any longer.”
I spin in his arms. “I’m sorry.”
“No. Don’t be. You didn’t leave me. I pushed you away. ”
“But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Just as well, because I’d follow you wherever you went.”
“Stalker.”
“I don’t deny it.” He smiles, and my heart melts. When I first met Alexander he never smiled. But if I think back over the past several months, those smiles began coming far more often as we grew closer. I’m not one to pat myself on the back, but for that, I’ll take the credit.
“Oh, I meant to say, I found something in one of the drawers when I was making space the other day.” I slip out of his arms and go behind my desk, retrieving the snow globe I came across. It’s not like a cheap one you might find in a gift shop. This one is ornate and looks handcrafted. Inside is a family scene of six children gathered around a Christmas tree, opening presents.
Alexander breaks into a grin and walks over, taking it from me. “I’d forgotten all about this. Mum had this made a few weeks before Annabel and I were taken. She took a photograph of us all gathered around the Christmas tree, then commissioned an artist to hand make this.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He shakes it, and the snow begins to fall. “It lights up, too, and plays music.” He turns it upside down and flicks a switch, but nothing happens.
“Batteries have probably run out, or they’ve leaked.” He opens the battery compartment, then frowns.
“What’s the matter?”
“There are no batteries, but there’s this.” He plucks out a key. “Why would my mother keep a key in a snow globe?”
I move in to take a closer look. It’s tiny, and I can’t imagine what it might fit in.
“Did you find anything it might fit when you were clearing out space?” he asks.
“No. Nothing. Only that globe.”
“I don’t get it. My mother never did things without a reason. If she hid a key in this snow globe, she had a motive.” He rubs his forehead. “But I can’t for the life of me think what it could be.”
“Maybe your brothers or Saskia might have an idea.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Slipping the key into his pocket, he takes my hand and leads me from the room. “Let’s ask them.”