Chapter Eighteen
After the night she’d had, it was just typical that Verity couldn’t sleep. Her feet ached, her throat was sore, and her stomach felt as though she had done a thousand sit-ups, yet the moment her head hit the pillow her mind had woken.
Her shift at the cafe had been a disaster. Cora was flapping when Verity finally arrived, the queue almost out the door and customers complaining they’d be late for work if she didn’t hurry up. As if telling someone to hurry up ever helped.
By the time they finished with the breakfast rush people were already arriving for lunch and in a way, Verity was grateful for the distraction.
Once they quieted down, Cora wanted details of her date.
She wasn’t mad, didn’t blame her for the night from the hells, just turned to her with a smile, hungry for gossip.
Verity said that, against her better judgment, she and Adam played a drinking game, one she hadn’t been very good at, and her gentlemanly date had taken care of her. At least the last part wasn’t a lie.
Before she left, Verity helped write an advert for staff.
Cora might be the forgiving type but Verity worried that it could happen again.
Not the drink spiking part, but being late, what with the midweek visits to SubRosa and Abe’s impending arrival.
She wouldn’t put the café’s contract in jeopardy because she was unreliable.
Now, as she lay in bed, last night was all she could think about. The fact that someone she believed was warming to her had spiked her drink.
The rivalry or disagreement or whatever it was between Theo and Harris was obvious, but to spike her drink? To drug her and pump her for information? It felt like a major overreaction, and for Sienna to do it?
Verity hadn’t been a huge fan of the woman at the start, but she kind of understood why Sienna acted the way she did with the cool kids.
Keeping them on a short leash in public, telling Adam to keep quiet before he spilled secrets.
She’d been starting to think that, despite her frosty, Queen-Bee act, Sienna was protecting the other donors. Now she wasn’t so sure.
No accepting drinks. No touching.
The two biggest rules Theo demanded, and Verity broke them both.
Rolling over, she stared at the window, at the light creeping around the curtain. The sun was rising, the night over and memory - or more like the impression of memory - played on the edge of her mind.
Lying on Theo’s bathroom floor, legs on the cold tiles, as he cradled her, whispering words of care and stroking her hair. He should be mad at her for being so stupid, but there was no rage in his embrace; only worry and affection.
Every couple of hours he messaged her, checking she was okay, asking if she was eating and keeping her fluids up. She lied, something Verity was getting good at, promising she was taking care of herself when in truth the thought of eating turned her stomach.
When had he fed last? She was sure that he had intended to feed at the club, but she robbed him of that.
Reaching out, she took her phone from the nightstand.
Theo
Sweet dreams
His last message read, from when she’d told him she was going to sleep. She knew he wouldn’t ask.
You finished work?
She texted, knowing he headed home around dawn.
His reply was almost instant.
Leaving now. You okay?
I'm fine, just wondering
if you're hungry
Dots appeared on the screen, then stopped. Appeared and stopped. He didn’t want to admit it.
I can't sleep, come get me?
She wanted to talk, needed to talk, to understand why Harris would do something like that, and why Sienna was questioning donor numbers.
You don't have to. I'll be okay.
Come get me.
She sent again, not asking this time.
Dots appeared and Verity knew he’d say no so she changed tack.
I need to eat first though, I'm hungry
You haven't eaten?
The reply was quick and Verity knew she’d won.
Text me when you're outside
I'm not getting dressed
What?
I'm waiting
She threw a coat over her pyjamas and headed for the door. Her parents were both at work, so she didn’t need to worry about explaining herself to them.
Fifteen minutes later, the car pulled up and Verity rushed out before he had a chance to text. Slipping into the car, Theo looked annoyed.
“Why haven’t you eaten?” he greeted her.
“I felt sick.”
Shaking his head, he waited for her to clip in her seatbelt before pulling off. The steering wheel squeaked under the pressure of his grip and Verity noticed his knuckles looked red, one scabbing.
“What did you do?” she asked with a pointed look.
“I… had a word with Harris.”
“What? With your fists?” she exclaimed. “Theo! You can’t do that!”
“I think I can,” he replied with deadly calm.
She stared at him, but he seemed unbothered, like punching another person was perfectly acceptable.
“He did it then?” she asked. “He…”
“Didn’t admit to it, but who else could it have been? He’s got a screw loose, Verity. I don’t want you talking to that donor of his either.”
“I just don’t understand why. What were they trying to get out of me?”
“I don’t know.”
“What was that stuff about donor numbers?”
“It’s fine.”
“Is it, though?” she asked. “Why would they…”
“Angel,” Theo said, reaching for her hand then grimacing, as if he hadn’t meant to say it. Again. “I’m looking into it, okay?”
“Looking into what? What’s wrong with…”
“Please,” he interrupted, giving her hand another squeeze. “Please, just trust me. I’ll get to the bottom of it. I promise.”
The car pulled into the underground car park and Verity nodded. What choice did she have? She already trusted Theo to protect her, she’d have to trust him in this too.
Taking the key out, he turned to her, surveying her flannel pyjamas with a smirk.
“I was cosy,” she said.
He nodded. “As long as you’re comfortable.”
They climbed the service stairs up to his apartment. The first time she visited Horsham House she thought the place looked like a show room, some stately home done up for a photo shoot, but as she kicked her boots off, she began to feel more at home there.
“You like lasagna?” he asked, throwing his keys in a bowl by the door and heading for the kitchen.
“You’re gonna make me lasagna?” she asked, hopping into a stool at the island.
“Enzo Romano made us lasagna,” he said, reading from a box he pulled from the fridge. “I’m just heating it up.”
“A man makes me dinner, and I get a microwave meal,” she teased.
“Nope,” he said, opening the box and tapping the foil tray. “It goes in the oven.”
“Same thing,” she snorted, but her stomach gurgled, giving her away. Lasagna did sound good.
Theo turned on the oven and poured her some water before disappearing to get changed. When he returned, he wore sweatpants and a T-shirt, though he somehow still made them look smart.
He shrugged when she quirked an eyebrow. “What? Are you the only one allowed to be… cozy?”
They chatted about work as the food cooked, Theo insisting that his day had been boring and asking about Verity’s Ostara plans.
Everything was going well, vendors confirmed, activities set, schools eager to take part.
He beamed as she got carried away, explaining all the little issues she hadn’t anticipated.
“The police have said that I need to change the layout to keep emergency routes clear, but they aren’t being very helpful with which roads count as emergency routes,” she explained.
“Sounds about right,” Theo said, checking on the food. “Grab the diary out of my briefcase, I’ll give you the commissioner’s number. Tell him I told him to help.”
Verity jumped down and found the briefcase, popping it open to find the diary. Pulling out the leather binder her eye caught on the pages underneath. A newspaper article, a few in fact, about Cliffhaven, the town that had been quarantined after an outbreak of Hesperian flu.
“What are these for?” she asked, holding out the articles.
Looking up from serving dinner, Theo rolled his eyes.
“Nothing,” he said a little too quickly and Verity frowned, setting the diary down and reading one of the articles. She was wrong, it wasn’t about Cliffhaven, it was from Cliffhaven, a few weeks before the outbreak.
“Really, Verity,” Theo said, setting the spatula down and reaching for the articles. Verity pulled them back.
“If it’s nothing then I can look. Stop being weird,” she said, reading; it was about anti-donor protests. “You know I’ll only look them up when I get home.”
Another article was about a missing woman and one about a missing man, then a couple about robberies and curfews. They were all by the same reporter, Di Campbell. Verity had never heard of her. She glanced up at Theo who watched her.
“What are they for? All hidden in your briefcase like that. And don’t lie to me; if you’re not going to tell me, just say so.”
“They weren’t hidden. I keep things in my briefcase; that’s kind of the point of having it.”
He scowled at her and went back to serving up the food. “I don’t even know. They were given to me with some reports. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Worry about what?” He was really starting to piss her off. “I didn’t say I was worried, so you think it’s worth worrying about?”
“Phoenar, help me,” he mumbled.
“So, what do you know? You’re saying you don’t know but you know enough to not want to talk about it.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense.”
“Theo?” She pouted. He was hiding something, she could practically smell it on him.
“Abe,” he said and Verity dropped the articles on the counter with a shiver.
“What the fuck does Abe have to do with Cliffhaven?”
Theo set her plate in front of her and took his seat, poking at his food as he searched for words. “There have been problems with the Cliffhaven port. It’s why prices are going through the roof; we’re struggling to get goods in from Occidra.”
What was he talking about? Getting food from the continent to the east was essential.
“What kind of problems?” she asked. “Why haven’t people heard about this?”
“I’m not even supposed to know about it.”
“Then how do you know?”