The Wrong Groom

by Emelia Blair

  Taking a deep breath, I forced my fear under control as I made my way down the stairs to the door that led to a small hallway. I pushed open that door as quietly as I could and looked at both doors, one either end of that corridor.

  One led outside into the alley behind my building. The other led to the inside of the bakery.

  My instincts told me to run, but I heard another crash and my hands trembled with a mixture of fear and rage. I had spent years working on this shop. All my hard-earned money was invested in this shop.

  How could I just walk away?

  A prayer on my lips, I unlocked the door and slipped inside.

  The heat had gotten stronger. Sweat poured down my temples as I realized that this was the source of the unbearable heat in my apartment.

  Somebody had turned on the stoves.

  Or at least I hoped that’s what they had done.

  I walked along the wall, staying within the shadows.

  I knew all about blending in and hiding.

  I had been doing that as a child.

  Bat gripped tight in my sweaty hands. I heard someone cursing in the kitchen area and as I edged the corner of the wall, my knees weakened when I saw orange and yellow being reflected in the glass pane facing the kitchen.

  Horror coursed through me as I realized that someone was in the process of trying to burn down my bakery.

  A movement in my peripheral vision before I was slammed into the ground, my only weapon leaving my hands. I tried to get up before a heavy boot kick came into contact with my stomach and I cried out in pain, trying to curl up, instinctively.

  The shower of silent blows accompanied only by heavy breathing, sent me back to a time when I had been smaller, more defenseless as a man with big meaty hands would lift me by my hair and rain endless blows on my face and chest.

  I forced my eyes open amid the pain, rage taking over.

  I was no longer a victim!

  I tried to push back the pain and rolled away, scrambling to my feet, and backing away from my attacker. I couldn’t see his face as I moved towards the kitchen.

  My ribs burned, and the fiery agony told me that there was a very strong possibility that I might have broken one or two of them. I didn’t bother with them.

  I couldn’t.

  The person advanced and my back hit the display counter. I gasped out and quickly darted behind it. The light switches were at the other end of the room and I had no hopes of getting there.

  If I could, there was a twenty-four-hour shop right across from the bakery, and Mr. Lionel would get alerted at seeing the lights on.

  “Who are you?!” I bit out, unable to raise my voice, the pain coming in dizzying waves, as I tried to breathe.

  The man didn’t say anything, just advanced, menacingly. I took a few steps back, till my back came in contact with the marble counter and I could see the flames in the kitchen reflecting on the man’s face which was covered with a cloth, except those eyes.

  My hands patted the counter looking for an effective makeshift weapon, and it came in contact with the covered muffin rack that I had just filled in a few hours ago to let the dough rest.

  It was made from iron that was reflected in its weight and I waited for the man to come closer before I grabbed the rack and hit the man in the face, making him howl and fall.

  Taking advantage of his momentary weakness, I tried to rush past him to the light switches, but I was more badly injured than I felt, and I wasn’t fast enough. A large hand grabbed my ankle.

  He yanked it, making me fall. My hands raised for protection, I heard the crack in my wrist before I felt the rush of a familiar pain.

  My head was dizzy with the throbbing pain that felt like liquid fire rushing through my body. I felt his weight on my stomach as he settled on my broken stomach, to prevent me from escaping.

  I barely felt the glancing blows on my face as I fought back, viciously, my nails scratching.

  I wasn’t going to be a victim!

  That was all my mind was screaming, desperate tears streaking down my face.

  I saw the glint of steel, before the man raised his arms.

  A knife?

  I looked around for a weapon, anything, before all that weight simply disappeared off me, as my assailant was being yanked off me.

  I scrambled back till my head hit the display counter and I saw another figure, a more familiar one beating the man.

  I couldn’t think, my mind not focusing.

  Forcing myself to my feet, I grabbed the fire extinguisher, gasping under the weight of it. The glass window that looked into the kitchen was now black with smoke and I could now see the smoke seeping out from under the closed door.

  Putting the mitten that hung nearby to my nose and mouth, I used my shoulder to throw open the door and was suddenly surrounded by black smoke.

  However, I knew my kitchen.

  A flick of my hand turned on the exhaust fan.

  The fire was raging on the stove and it had spread to my wooden baking equipment and boards. I hosed it with the fire extinguisher.

  My heart in my mouth, I sprayed and sprayed, not letting go, not giving my arms any reprieve till the fire had been put out. Whoever this bastard was, he hadn’t managed to complete the job. My foot knocked against a tin can on the floor and I forced myself not to think about what would have happened had he managed to pour the accelerant over the fire.

  The smoke was seeping out through the fan. I heard a loud crash behind me, and I saw my attacker push the man who had saved me over the counter, before he rushed outside.

  I ran towards the front of the shop and turned on the lights.

  I could recognize Philip from a mile away, and my voice was hoarse as I asked, “Are you okay?”

  He was standing up, using the counter as support, and he growled, “I’m fine. What abou-“

  My knees collapsed from under me and I sank onto the floor, finding it hard to breathe.

  “Charlotte!”

  He rushed to my side and I batted his hands away, gasping, “Give me a minute!”

  My tank top was torn but I didn’t care about my half naked exposed body at that moment. Gritting my teeth, I pressed my fingers gingerly against my ribs and after a rough examination, I determined that nothing was broken.

  My face white with pain, I breathed out, “Help me up.”

  He did so, his jaw tight, “I’m taking you to a hospital.”

  I shook my head, “I’m fine. I can fix this. Just let me see-“

  My eyes moved over my bakery and tears welled up in my eyes as I saw the damage to my beautiful shop. The crashing I had heard had been my very expensive dough maker, and even from here, now that the smoke was cleared, I could see the door of the oven hanging on a hinge, and I drew another shuddering breath.

  All my hard work.

  My chest tightened with repressed tears as I staggered towards my ruined kitchen. I lifted my fist to my mouth, trying to contain my anguished cries.

  The damage was in thousands and thousands of dollars and realizing that I was on the brink of losing my livelihood, I felt my world shatter for the second time in these two weeks.

  Philip stepped into my line of site, cold fury distorting his perfect features as he raised his hands to touch the bruises on my face, “Shit. We need to get you to a hospital. That bastard did a whole fucking number on you.”

  I shook my head, pushing back tears, trying to gather myself, trying to think.

  “There’s a – a kit upstairs. I can fix this. It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad.”

  But this time, it was that bad.

  7

  Philip

  Charlotte sat in a seat, just staring at the kitchen area, her eyes lost.

  I had never seen her like this, and when her dark wet eyes turned towards me when I asked for the first aid kit, I felt the urge to take her away from all of this and just hide her somewhere, where no one could ever hurt her.

  She no longer resembled the w
oman who had stood up to me a few days ago.

  “On top of the TV,” She mumbled, and I realized she was telling me where the box was. I hastened towards where she pointed, and as I got past the doors and climbed the narrow stairs, I asked myself why I wasn’t forcing her to a hospital.

  Her apartment was small, and so incredibly hot.

  Even breathing seemed to be a task here and I couldn’t understand how she could live in such a dingy apartment. The television was blaring, and I turned it off and looked around for the first aid kit.

  Seeing something fallen over, I leaned down to pick up the box and saw a carton of ramen noodles next to the cupboard.

  My jaw tightened.

  She was living lean.

  I would deal with all this later. There were a lot of questions I had, but for now, she needed looking after.

  I carried the small box downstairs and saw that she wasn’t where I had left her.

  “Charlotte!” I couldn’t veil the panic in my voice, till I saw her standing in the middle of her damaged kitchen, her back towards me. Her form was tall and still, amidst all the destruction. She reminded me a of a lone, broken survivor standing in the centre of the battlefield.

  She looked so alone right now, that I couldn’t bear it. Moving to her, I grasped her uninjured hand, my voice uncharacteristically gentle, “Charlotte.”

  She looked over her shoulder at me, and it shook me when I saw the way she was trying her best not to cry. Her eyes were shimmering with tears that she refused to shed, and her voice cracked as she told me, “I spent everything I had on building and repairing this bakery. This was my whole world. It took him a night to destroy my whole world.”

  “We’ll fix this, I promise!” My words were fierce.

  Under normal circumstances, this woman would not have shared something she considered so private with me. But now under all this strain, she had managed to let it slip, I was going to protect this haven of hers with everything I had.

  I could see from her eyes that she didn’t hold much stock in my words, and I let it slide.

  “I’ve brought the box. You can clean your injuries, but then we go to a hospital.”

  Charlotte opened the box and started taking out bandages, and I was taken aback by the amount of supplies she had.

  “I’m not going to a hospital,” She informed, her voice dull.

  I wanted grab her by her shoulders and shake her, but I didn’t know badly she was bruised, “The hell you’re not!”

  She gave me a steady look, “You’re not thinking. My face has been splashed over the papers ever since we got married. If I go to a hospital, rumors will fly of abuse. Your reputation will be shredded.”

  I started and then snarled, “Fuck the rumors!”

  Charlotte moved the contents to a location which had a mirror and I trailed after her, furious, my bleeding knuckles shoved in my pockets.

  She didn’t look at me as she started applying antiseptic to her wounds, “That’s easier said than done. I want to maintain a low profile. And you need to stay away from any rumors that might affect your business. Besides-,”

  She eyed me in the mirror, a sardonic smile on her face, “-I’ve had much worse than these.”

  I flinched and if she saw it, she didn’t say anything.

  Her movements were slow and steady, and I noted how she kept her eyes averted from the kitchen, “Can you help me out of this?”

  She was gesturing towards her tank top, and I moved forward.

  I was much taller than her and her head reached my chest. As my fingers wrapped around the hem of her top, I felt a stirring inside at the intimate act, despite the situation. However, my flicker of lust died at the sight of the large mottling purplish bruises spread out over her stomach.

  I grew cold inside, my fury a living breathing creature inside my body.

  I crouched down and lifting my hand, fingers light, I moved them over her mottled skin, as if memorizing the shape and size of it. Lifting my gaze to meet her shaken one, my words were lethal in their softness as I showed her a side of myself that very few knew, “I’m going to break each bone in his body, one by one, till he’s begging me to stop.”

  My fingers whispered over her bare skin again and I felt the way her stomach contracted under my touch, her eyes troubled.

  Her voice shook as she murmured, “If you have time to make threats, you have time to bandage my wrist.”

  I stood up and helped her.

  My eyes took in her bruised and battered form, and it shook something in me to note that despite how badly she was hurt, it didn’t faze her like it would a normal person.

  Hearing the sounds outside, I saw the flash of fear in Charlotte’s eyes and realized she wasn’t as unaffected as she tried to show. I put a hand on her shoulder, “It’s just the boys. They were on my heels.”

  She knew what I meant by that, but her form was still tense.

  I unlocked the door and then blinked when it hit me that she was half naked in just her bra and some pants. Picking up my coat, I walked over to her and when she gave me a confused look, I gently hung the coat on her shoulders.

  “I’m not done yet,” She protested, but quieted down when my jaw tensed.

  “You’re naked. I’ll be damned if I let them see you like this.”

  She glowered at me before turning her head to the side and my shoulders relaxed.

  Ian and Fergus were the first ones to enter, Zayn right behind them.

  The latter whistled, “Looks like quite a fight. Hello, Charlotte.”

  I saw the way his eyes softened for the woman who was legally my wife and I had to physically stop myself from bristling.

  Zayn had always had a soft spot for Charlotte and right now, as he walked over to where we stood and examined the bruises on her stomach that the coat couldn’t hide, I saw the flare of his nostrils, and the cold look in his eyes.

  He glanced at her, “You were kicked?”

  She nodded, her voice faint now, “He wore some kind of weird boots. Very hard.”

  “Get our best team on this,” I ordered Ian, fury vibrating through my body. I wanted to rip somebody apart. Ian simply nodded, before taking out his phone and retreating to a corner of the bakery.

  Fergus eyed the kitchen and winced, “That looks bad.”

  Charlotte bandaged wrist shook in Zayn’s hand as he tested how tight the bandage was and my friend threw me a quick look.

  “Fergus, get somebody in to see the damage and handle this. Replace whatever has to be replaced. Just get it done.”

  This anger inside me needed an outlet and my friends could sense it.

  “Y-you can’t do that!” Charlotte paled, and my eyes snapped to hers, “Why not?”

  She swallowed, and I felt like a jerk when she seemed to make herself even smaller, “I can’t afford it…yet. I need some time to get my resources together and-“

  I blinked, not sure if I heard her right, “You’re not paying for this.”

  Her eye narrowed, despite the pain she was in, and she hissed, “I don’t want your charity, Philip.”

  I let her words pass because I knew she was suffering and frustrated, but there was an inherent satisfaction in my next words, “It’s not charity if we’re married, Charlotte.”

  She glared at me, and then I saw her face crumple, as the events of the night started overwhelming her. I pushed Zayn away and cupped her face, forcing her to look at me, my words a quiet plea, “Let me look after you, Charlotte. Even if only for these next few days. I need to know you’re okay.”

  Her eyes swam with defiance and something else that I couldn’t identify, before they darkened, and she leaned her head against my chest. I took that as acquiescence. But then her form went limp and I looped an arm around her waist, dragging her against me before she fell onto the ground.

  Zayn’s lips were pursed, “It’s about time she passed out. I don’t know how she was holding on. Take her to your place. I know someone who’s discreet. He’
ll take a look at her.”

  I met his gaze, “Document everything here. Whoever that man was, he intended to kill her and destroy this place.”

  Ian walked in, his phone in his hand, “I told Greg and the boys to join us here. I’ll oversee them. Is she-“

  The flash of concern on his face had me tightening my arms around the light bundle in my arms, “She’s just passed out.”

  Ian looked over at Fergus who was wading through the mess in the kitchen, and then informed me, “The window in the back has been jimmied open. Once our team does a full sweep, I’ll call the police; report a break-in.”

  Zayn twitched, his icy blue eyes disdainful, “If the police get involved, the reporters will follow. We need to keep the media out of this. Get Agatha on board.”

  Ian stuffed his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, “I’ll swing by her place right now and get her up to speed.”

  I looked at my friends and the way they were effortlessly shouldering every responsibility and I drew Charlotte closer to me. I had never realized how precious she was to me till I had seen her today, lying on the floor, desperately fighting for her life.

  Those big meaty fists raining down on her soft flesh; the sight had driven me into a blind rage. Dragging him off my bleeding wife had been instinct. Using my own fists to inflict maximum damage on the son of a bitch had been blind fury.

  I would have killed him if I hadn’t been distracted by the sight of Charlotte lugging around the huge fire extinguisher. The man had punched me in the abdomen and while I had gasped out a breath, he had jumped to his feet and darted out the front door.

  I had seen a side of this woman today that I had always been aware of but had never been a first-hand witness to. She was brave, so very brave. And strong.

  Although she had been devastated at the losses she had suffered, she had tried her best to keep it together. It wasn’t stubbornness that kept her wits about her, but a quiet steadiness. She had demanded my assistance where she needed it as a last resort, and yet she refused to lean on me.

  I hadn’t known how much I wanted her to look at me as someone who could support her, as someone she could trust, till I had watched the way she had forced her tears back and tried to fix whatever she could of the situation.