“I needed information, and the only way to get it was by getting into her phone and taking it. So, I got into her cloud.”
“Excuse me?” Taking a step back, I look down at him.
“It was the only way. She’s disabled all the location shit on her apps and shit, so I found a way around it.”
I take a deep breath, steadying myself so I don’t smack his head off his shoulders. Boundaries have never been his strong suit.
“Point is, this was on there, and that logo belongs to the club. I’m assuming by the grid that this is a manual log they keep for the members that can’t have a traceable record.”
“That’s traceable though,” Casper says. “It’s a written record.”
“It’s a discretionary record,” I tell him. “I’m guessing that it’s kept for a short period of time and then discarded.”
It’s not an uncommon practice when it comes to dealing with prominent public figures. No one wants their dirty laundry hung out for the world to judge.
“What matters is that there has to be a reason she took that photo. From the looks of it, she did it on the sly. We just need to figure out the reason. It’s like Cluedo, except we’re the killers.” Chuckling at his own quip, Freddie shuts his laptop.
“Ask her.”
“Really?” Leo cuts an irate scowl at Casper. “Pray tell, how do you intend on getting your sister to tell us anything when she won’t even come to us?”
“There has to be a way.”
“There is a way.” Looking at me, Leo stands from the table as he grabs his cufflinks before he saunters towards the bedrooms.
“Where are you going?” I yell after him.
“You need a change of clothes; we’ve got places to be.”
Fuck, I’d forgotten about the mess I’m in. There’s blood dried down my top and my jeans. Swiping my hands over my face, I grimace at the pain that shoots from my nose through to my eyes.
“The state of your face and clothes are his concern…” Freddie whistles low as he ogles my face.
“Get a lead on that list.”
“I’m on it.” For the first time today, he sounds serious. When I look up at him, I find him perched on the table directly in front of me. “Don’t get messy, Christopher.”
“I don’t give a fuck about mess, Fred. I’ll do whatever it takes to end this.”
“If anything goes down, you don’t get dirty. Get me? It’s what the three of us are here for.” Slapping me on the back, he packs up his shit and fills his glass with some water. Sniffing it, he scrunches his face, grumbling his disapproval. “Fucking fruit in water. Pansy-arse twat!”
Chapter 3
Arabella
It gets worse at night. My entire being feels empty. My body, my heart, and my soul are deserted. No man’s land.
After slicking another coat of my dark red lipstick over my lips, I pull the strap of my silk slip up my arm. My breasts are still sore and big, a constant reminder of what I’ve lost. Of the life I should be living. Me, Christopher, and our little girl.
My baby.
The hollow ache in my chest burns, and the sting of my sorrow fills my eyes. Before I allow my tears to spill again, I take a long drag of my cigarette, holding it in until it numbs my head, threatening to suffocate me.
As I let it out, I snuff the half-finished smoke in the wet plughole, then throw the stub in the toilet before I head back into the bedroom.
“What are you up to, Bella?” Georgina asks me again. “I don’t understand why the fuck you’re hiding from him. Christopher will find you, and all this will be pointless.”
What does she know about what’s important? The only thing she’s ever had to worry about is keeping herself slim and her legs intact. The only thing she cares about is her career.
“What? Don’t look at me like that. I don’t want them knocking on my door. I don’t need that shit.”
“They don’t know I’m here.”
“Really? That’s what you’re telling yourself? Casper has never shown up at my door more than he is now. Last I heard Christopher was knocking Mum’s door down. I don’t want trouble at my door, Bella.”
“Maybe you should try being a tad less selfish. Try thinking about someone other than yourself.”
“I’m selfish?” Standing from where she’s sat at the vanity, she walks over to me.
Georgina has always been taller than me; she and Casper take after our father’s side of the family. They’re tall and lean. She has milky-white skin, and her dark hair has a coppery undertone that shines through in the summer.
Tucking her shoulder-length locks behind her ear, she stops in front of me, her chin tipping down so our eyes meet, so she’s looking down on me.
“I’m not the one that walked out on my marriage.”
My mouth dries with all the things I want to scream at her.
“Why are you running?” As I take a step backwards, her warm hand squeezes my shoulder. “You couldn’t wait to marry Christopher.”
“I fucked up.” And it doesn’t matter how much I want him or love him. I can’t go back to him until I’ve tried to make it as right as I can.
My husband deserves better. He deserves a wife who’s selfless enough to sacrifice her sanity for the safety of his child.
Her arms engulf me as she pulls me into her chest. Rocking me from side to side. Brushing my hair. “It’s not your fault. Early babies die all the time.”
She doesn’t understand.
“Maybe you need to see someone. Talk to someone…”
“Ummm…” Pulling away, I take a couple of steps back. With a deep breath, I remind myself…
She doesn’t know.
I keep telling myself that she’s different to me. Her aspirations are the opposite to mine. It wouldn’t matter if I poured out all the reasons she’s wrong, because her dream has never been to be a mother and a wife. Georgina has never contemplated dropping her identity to bolster another person’s ambitions.
Not like me.
Christopher has so much ahead of him, beyond all of his aspirations. He’s got the ambitions of others on his head. He wears them like a lead crown, but the truth is he doesn’t understand the weight he’ll take on. It doesn’t matter what our fathers tell him.
I was meant to help him carry the burden, but I got so caught up in my selfish whims that I’ve only made it heavier. I’ve made it gargantuan, and I don’t know how we’re going to shoulder it. How we’re meant to carry on. How he’s meant to forgive me.
Christopher has always been a we’ll-cross-the-bridge-when-we-get-to-it kind of guy. But some bridges have to be mended before they’re crossed. Some bridges are so burnt that you need to rebuild them from scratch.
I don’t know which one we’re at right now.
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
There’s no way to make this better. Not unless I can rewind time. Or bring my daughter back.
But she’s ashes.
“Arabella…” Pausing at the door, she looks back at me with sad eyes. Eyes that try to empathise with how I feel, but they fail because they’re so full of so much. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he cares how you fucked up. I think that maybe all he might want is his wife.”
Turning to the vanity, I blink away the burn behind my eyes.
You have no right to cry. Suck it up. Take responsibility.
When I drop the slip to my waist without replying, she says, “Casper said he’s coming over tonight. If you don’t want to see him, you need to stay somewhere else.”
I nod my acknowledgement of her words, and when she closes the door, I finish getting dressed.
I have plans.
Georgina thinks he’s coming for me. I know he is. Christopher has never broken a promise in his life. He promised me eternity. There’s no way he’ll go back on that.
Chapter 4
Christopher
“Here.” Leo nods at the drink he’s got waiting on the kitchen c
ounter. “Are you sure you want to do this? She might not be there.”
Ignoring the urge to drown the lump in my throat with the chilled vodka, I push it away. “I’m getting her back.”
A subtle smile lightens his furrowed brow, and as I walk around him to grab something else to drink, Cassie turns to look at me.
Shit, she’s got that soft look in her eyes like I’m some saint she looks up to.
“She might not be ready to come back, and you need to accept that. The pair of you—” Eyes flitting behind me, she narrows them sternly. “—you need to understand that you can’t go in there and force your wants and needs on her. She’ll fight you if you do, and we’re already in the middle of a war. So, let’s not start another battle, huh?”
I swallow down the acid that boils up my throat at her words. Cassie’s right though. I don’t want another fight; I don’t want to start a battle I won’t win.
“Patience, Christopher.” Pulling on my waistcoat, she smiles up at me, before straightening my tie. She takes my left hand and twists the dark ring, looking up at me with certainty in her eyes. “Arabella will come back.”
When she takes a step back, Leo clears his throat. Gaze narrowed on mine, he nods at her. “Don’t you have something you want to say to her?”
“Shut up, Neat Freak,” she snaps at him over her shoulder and gets back to her tea. “If I want an apology that badly, I’ll ask for it myself.”
He chuckles dryly as he stands behind her, hands on either side of her on the counter. Leo rests his chin on her shoulder as one of his hands sweeps up her torso. “Not how this goes, Buttercup.”
With his thumb tracing the almost faded marks I left on her neck, he spins them both to face me.
“Leo.”
Ignoring her protest, he brings them closer. “Christopher?”
Fuck, my heart is furiously hammering as I take in her neck. This close the marks look vicious, even in their yellowing state. When I reach out, I don’t miss the way she tenses and flinches, recoiling into Leo’s body as he holds her up steady.
“I’m sorry, Princess.” My words are a disgusted grit. I’m livid with myself as I stroke her cheek with the back of my fingers.
Nodding shakily, she exhales a long breath it pains me she was holding.
“Don’t do it again,” she says when I drop my hand to my side, batting Leo’s hold away before getting back to her drink.
“Done.” He straightens and does up his suit jacket. “Let’s go.”
I start for the door of their apartment, trying to ignore their heated exchange in the background.
“You’re upset with me.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“It had to be done.”
“I am big enough and ugly enough to fight my own battles. Let me do it.” Her growl almost makes me smile.
Cassie’s grown into herself, and I admire her for it. I admire Leo for helping her do it.
“Nobody touches you, Cass. He’s lucky he didn’t make you cry, because I swear to God, I would wipe him the fuck out. You’re all that matters, you got me?”
“Jesus, you’ve got issues, you know that?”
“I love you.”
The lump in my throat finally dislodges, falling straight to the pit of my stomach.
I love you.
Three small words. Jumbled up or broken apart they are meaningless, but fuck, they’re tearing me apart.
When was the last time I even said them?
“I love you too,” Cassie sighs softly.
It makes me wonder if I’ll ever hear them again.
Opening the door, I bring it to a soft close behind me as I wait by the lift. The dark grey marble and granite walls and floors are hard and cold. Empty.
An uncanny resemblance to my being.
“Let’s go,” Leo says, hitting the call button.
We ride down to the garage in silence. A storm whips around my thoughts, colliding and shattering like tempestuous seas. The yearning to see my wife is the only withstanding need. I have to see her with my own eyes.
She’s the only thought that braves all the chaos as we make our way to Heath House in silence.
When the driver stops outside, I’m instantly searching the affluent London street for any sign of her.
“Remember what you told me the night of Freddie’s party?” Leo asks, stepping out onto the pavement. He looks in his element. “Don’t fuck this up. It’s business.”
What? “Business?”
“Heath House is expanding; they need investors. We need an in into their business.”
Pulling my dinner jacket closed over my vest, I take a deep breath. Every part of me is buzzing. With every step we take up to the glossy black door, the closer I feel to her.
We’ve always had this pull that goes beyond anything physical; it’s how I knew she was it for me.
Even when we quarrelled, it never felt like something unsurmountable. Our bond is always stronger than anything else. It has an identity of its own. One that can’t be altered or severed by menial tiffs.
Except, this isn’t a tiff. We didn’t argue. We didn’t fight. Our life fell apart, and she left me. She didn’t give me the chance to toil for her.
Stopping by the door, Leo pulls out his wallet, showing the bouncer his ID.
“Through there.” The bulky guy points towards the reception room overlooking the street.
The decor is all blacks, whites, and golds, sumptuous fabrics and intricate detailed wood and mouldings.
“Mr. Fairfax, Mr. Townsend requested you wait in the lounge area. If you, or your guest—” She smiles up at me, straight teeth and dark pink lips glowing. Typical Heath girl. “If either of you need anything that’s not available, one of the hostesses will be glad to help you.”
The tall blonde guides us through a tight black wood hallway. It’s so confined that involuntarily my body hunches in on itself.
Pulling and tugging at the scandalously short hem of her black dress, she stands straight when we reach the opulent bar area. Black and white blend to deep purples that make the golds richer, almost gawdy.
Portraits of cantankerous-looking old men in black silk cravats, boasting purple or yellow rose boutonnieres, line the walls with the occasional church ceiling nude.
“Remember, anything you need…” Her hand rests on my shoulder, but her smile and eyes are firmly on Leo.
Jesus Christ.
“Thank you.” Making his way deeper into the round room, he searches the place, and I follow.
There are tall bistro tables with stools dotted around the three-sixty bar. The sides of the room are lined with futons and cushion-scattered nooks. There are a couple of bigger tables, and one of the sides has a seating area with high-backed sofas and Persian rugs. Gold translucent silk and purple gauze veil the space. You can only just see in.
“Two vodkas, doubles. Cold.”
“Iced glass, no ice.” The bartender nods at Leo before he reaches for the top-shelf bottle of Belvedere and then pours the double measures into ice-clouded crystal tumblers.
Soft piano chords fill the air, and my chest squeezes my pulsing heart.
The music is so beautiful, like my wife. She could spend hours playing away. I love the way she smiles as she plays. It’s something so simple, but it brings such infectious contentment.
“Here.” Handing me the ice-cold drink, Leo clinks the bottom of his crystal tumbler to the rim of mine and throws it back.
I do the same, savouring the way the thick liquid coats my mouth and burns down my throat.
“We’ll take two waters,” he tells the bartender before directing us over to the veiled-off area.
“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to get involved in shit like this.” Sitting on the edge of one of the midnight-blue sofas, I take another look around us.
I’ve been here before, and for all its wealth and trappings, I still hate it.
“Freddie and I have vetted it thoroughly, Christopher
. Nothing to worry about,” he says, sitting back into the sofa. His legs are crossed, jacket unbuttoned like he’s the lord of the manor.
“Brothels are illegal.”
Taking a deep breath, he twists to look at me. His face is serious, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.
“We can argue about this all night. The reality is that what the girls chose to do outside their job…it’s not our concern. This is our means to an end. You want your wife back, don’t you?”
I won’t answer that—he knows what I want. The only thing I’ve always wanted…
“Arabella is here. She’s onto something, and we need to find out what it is.” He falls quiet before he adds, “Don’t worry, you’re not the only strait-laced guy to visit.” His chuckle is cut off by company.
Oliver Townsend is your typical private-school yuppy. He wears the contents of his bank account on his person. His dark suit is the kind of tailored that is one of a kind. The Patek Phillipe timepiece on his wrist is hefty and encrusted with diamonds.
“What’s up, boys?” Extending his hand as we stand to greet him, he puts his glass down on the table carelessly, his drink tipping slightly over the rim. When I take his hand in a firm handshake, a grin forms on his lips. “What the fuck happened to your face?”
Great. As always, the prick is wankered. It’s how he spent most of our time at college and uni. “Nothing that you need to worry about.”
“Aren’t you a ball of sunshine? Pedro, over there”—he nods toward the bar—“said you’re having water. Don’t worry, I’ve fixed that. Fucking happiness is coming to you.” Raising his hand, he waves it and then points to the table between us.
“We’re not here for the booze, Oliver,” Leo says, sitting back down.
I’m about to sit too, when my gaze catches. My heart goes from a steady pulse to a violent pound.
There she is.
Soul-deep yearning chokes me. My surroundings blur, and all I see is my wife.
Beautiful as ever. She walks to the bar, and before she reaches it, the bartender already has her drink ready. Nothing much is said; there isn’t a smiley exchange…nothing. It’s a heartbreaking exchange to witness as she takes her drink with a tip of her chin and wanders back out of sight.
Scorch (Virtues & Lies Book 2) Page 4