by Emelia Blair
As he guided me inside a restaurant that I would never have been able to enter by myself, I noted, uncomfortably, how many people turned around to watch us.
“Why are they staring at us?” I whispered to Philip, after the server handed us the menus and left.
Philip reached over the table and held my hand, and from the look on his face, I knew I wasn’t going to like what he was going to tell me.
However, he didn’t speak, simply motioning me to check my phone.
I opened it and my eyes skimmed over the small news article. I found it hard to breathe for a few minutes, till Philip’s hand squeezed mine.
I looked up at him, my voice a hoarse whisper, “This is a lie. I never cheated on-“
His eyes were steady, “I know. But they don’t. I’m not letting Erik tear your reputation apart just because he got his ego hurt.”
I found myself reassured by his words, but even I knew that this seemed more than just Erik’s ego in play here. He was deliberately bad mouthing me, even though I was a nobody, my current association with Philip aside.
I kept my expression smooth, trying not to let my upset show, “So is this an attempt to-?”
Philip opened the menu, “This is me, on a date, with my beautiful wife. Who, by the way, I’m trying to convince to stay married to me.”
I pursed my lips, my frustration vanishing in front of his humor, “If you think you can convince me by buying me pretty jewelry-“
“Aha,” He looked up, his blue eyes lit with delight, “So you do like it!”
I stuttered, my hand automatically going to the necklace, “Of course I like it. It’s gorgeous.”
“Well, good,” He looked so ridiculously pleased with himself, that I didn’t have the heart to tell him I would be returning it to him. “It looks better on you than it did on me, let me tell you that much.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
Some of the other diners turned around to look at us, and I bit my lip to hold in my snickering.
He was beaming, and as he prodded and joked with me, it felt like we had fallen back into the past, where status and society had no role in our lives. It actually felt like a date as he teased me relentlessly, trying to play footsies with me till I ended up tucking my legs to the side with a glare.
I let him order for me because the entire menu was in French.
The server who waited on us, seemed to know Philip, and when he left to place our orders, I asked, “Do you come here often? The staff seems to know you.”
Philip grinned, “This is one of Fergus’s restaurants. I visit here every now and then. I like this branch. It’s quite close to my apartment.”
I noticed a few of the servers glancing our way, curiosity in their gazes, and I murmured, “Then why are they all looking at us like that? As if they’re shocked?”
Philip watched me, “Because I’ve never brought a date here.”
My shoulders tensed and I forced them to relax, keeping my voice light, not understanding this spark of annoyance, “So, who were you dating before, you know, this happened?”
Philip shrugged, “Nobody. I haven’t dated anybody in a year.”
His expression turned thoughtful, as he looked at me, “Actually, not since I found out about your engagement from Agatha.”
When he frowned, I prodded, “What?”
He looked embarrassed, “When I found out that you were getting married, I went out and got drunk and then got into a bar fight.”
“You got drunk?” I found myself repeating after him, not following.
His eyes narrowed at me and I wondered if he thought I was making fun of him, “Well, I wasn’t ready to admit I still had feelings for you. That was the only way I could cope.”
I don’t know why I was admitting this, but when my lips parted, I didn’t want him to feel silly all alone, “I kept a scrapbook.”
He blinked, “A what?”
I shrugged, an embarrassed movement, “A scrapbook. You know all those things you talked about. About becoming your own man, not just being part of your family legacy. So, I followed you in the finance section of the news and I kept clippings of when you started up your own business and the scrapbook kept growing bigger and bigger as you came into your own.”
I couldn’t define the look on his face.
His voice was soft, and almost humbled, “You kept all of that?”
I fidgeted in my seat, “Yeah. I mean, I hated you, of course. But every time you achieved a milestone, I wanted to preserve that moment. I was proud of you. Low-key proud, because I definitely hated you as well.”
The tender look in his eyes made my heart beat just a little faster, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Philip twined his fingers with mine on top of the table, “Because every minute with you makes it harder for me to even think of letting go of you. I don’t deserve you. But I don’t care. I still want you, all for myself.”
My cheeks flamed red but before I could say anything, the server showed up with our food.
I didn’t know what it was, but it smelled delicious, and my stomach rumbled at the sight of it. I could see the way Philip was hiding his amusement, but I ignored him.
The creamy garlic sauce covered medium rare steak that melted in my mouth, making me shudder, “Fergus has an amazing chef.”
Philip grinned, “It’s not the chef. Fergus made this himself. The man put himself through a number of culinary schools. Every dish in his restaurants is an original or his own twist on something.”
In awe of Fergus, I decided to sit him down some day and poke his brain.
But now, I was in the company of a man I held extremely strong and complicated feelings for and was enjoying a delicious meal. I decided to enjoy the moment.
Good moments don’t always last, however.
I was reaching for my glass of water when I heard the maître d welcome someone, “Mr. Mason. It’s a pleasure to have see you again.”
My hand jolted on hearing a familiar voice respond.
Philip’s eyes narrowed when he saw my shocked face, “Charlotte?”
“Charlotte?”
I heard the disdain in the voice of the one man, I could have happily spent my entire life without seeing again.
I looked up to see Erik standing there, in one of those pompous suits he was so fond of wearing, staring at me. Madison also stood there, her blonde hair styled to perfection, her eyes full of hate that I couldn’t understand.
Philip didn’t let me respond, instead he glanced at Erik, a cool look, “Do you have some business with my wife, Mason? You’re disturbing our meal.”
Erik’s face flushed and I saw the ugliness in him that I had always closed my eyes to, “Enjoying my leftovers, McCoy?”
I didn’t have to see Philip to sense his rage.
I quickly grabbed his wrist, my voice loud and clear in the suddenly quiet restaurant, “He’s just a bitter little man Philip. Trust me,” I glanced at Erik, a stark coldness in my eyes that made him flinch, “Men like him don’t even deserve to lick your shoes.”
When Erik opened his mouth, I was ready to fight back.
I was a McCoy now.
My reputation was Philip’s reputation.
However, Madison grabbed Erik’s arm, muttering, “Let’s just go.”
The way she pushed Erik away, her back to me, there was something vaguely familiar there for a moment that it was on the edge of my memory but I couldn’t recall. Something that I had seen before.
“I’m going to pulverize his fucking business,” Philip spoke, harshly. “How dare he speak about you like that?”
My eyes were still on Madison, and I watched her take out her phone from her purse and slip outside once they were seated at the farthest table from us.
“You won’t need to do anything to his business,” I murmured.
Philip frowned at me, “What do you mean?”
My smile was hard, “I’ve been keeping an eye on his company st
ocks since the wedding. They’ve been plummeting. And not because of his personal life. He was handling a very huge project as the CEO. I was doing most of the work. Now that I’m not there, he doesn’t have a chance of managing this project by himself. It’s going to take months to get the project back on track, enough time for his shareholders to lose all faith in him and have him replaced.”
Philip eyed me, the anger in him not completely diminished, “You’re more business savvy than I gave you credit for.”
My mind was still troubled over something that I couldn’t quite place, but I focused on Philip, “Yes, well. I have a knack for it. Just like I have a knack for baking. Let’s finish our food and leave.”
13
Philip
Charlotte was fine.
My eyes followed her as she moved from stall to stall eyeing the small pieces of jewelry and the cutlery, with unhidden delight. There was no sign that she had run into her ex-fiancé and faced him with no fear just an hour ago.
Right now, she was picking up a blue teapot with white flowers hand painted on it. Her nimble fingers examined the teapot from all sides, running all over the delicate piece to check for cracks, before she turned to me, “Well, what do you think?”
I stared at the piece of china and didn’t know what to think.
If she wanted to buy a teapot, I could have taken her to the most expensive and exclusive stores where she could have picked up anything her little heart desired. But I had a feeling that she wouldn’t be cooing over any of those expensive pieces, the way she was making small delighted sounds over this second-hand used teapot at the flea market.
I had suggested a walk, but she had seen the sign for the flea market and had grabbed the corner of my sleeve, her eyes wide and begging.
I wasn’t able to say no.
So, here we were.
Standing in a crowded field, watching her bargain over a five dollars priced teapot. I wondered if she knew that five dollars was chump change. I never wanted her to be in a position where she would be forced to negotiate for a lower price.
But when she finally got the price down to two dollars, to the annoyance of the seller, she looked so satisfied that I had to ask her, “Why did you negotiate?”
She snickered, “Because it’s fun. I’m thinking of applying a theme in the bakery by putting small delicate things in glass casing for a more historical feel. I know somebody in the neighborhood who’ll probably help me with the glass thing for cheap, and I can sit with the girls and make up some stupid fantastical history that we can write for the piece.”
“I could have gotten you something with some actual history,” I offered.
She shook her head, “It’s just for show.” She threw a glance around, and then looked at me, her teeth bared in a smile, “Let’s look for more!”
The way she so casually included me in her little quest made me feel just as excited, and we dived into the crowd.
I don’t know at what point the hairs on the back of my neck started tingling, but I looked up to see that Charlotte had left my sight. I looked up from the fake African mask I had been looking at and swung my gaze around the crowd.
I couldn’t see her anywhere.
What I did see, however, were two men, wearing black jackets. They, too, were scouring the crowd.
It was too hot to wear jackets and when I saw one of them brush by somebody, the jacket gave way to a concealed gun.
Shit.
I quickly sent a message to the two bodyguards whom I had asked to wait by the cars, and I started looking for Charlotte.
I tried calling her, but she wasn’t responding.
My eyes were on the men. I moved quickly through the crowd, not calling out her name, lest the men realized that I, too, was looking for her.
When one of the men nudged his partner and pointed somewhere, I didn’t blink, just darted in that direction as they moved steadily towards their target.
Fear was a bitter taste in my mouth as adrenaline pumped through my veins.
Why had I thought that Charlotte was safe?
Wasn’t that the whole reason we had kept the stupid bakery closed?!
I saw the head of familiar dark hair, and I reach out and grabbed Charlotte by the hand. She jumped in shock, and then blinked at me, “Philip? What-?”
“We need to go. Now!”
She didn’t hesitate, and quietly let me guide her through the crowd, her hand clamped in mine in an iron hold.
I glanced up and swore when I saw the two men aiming towards us.
However, my own men were a few steps away.
Closing the distance between us, I growled, “Call for backup. Capture those two.”
They nodded and parted to let us through.
I didn’t relax till I had shoved a bewildered Charlotte into the car and we were well on our way home.
“P-Philip?” She sounded scared. How could I tell her that I had been just as terrified that they could have got to her before I could.
“We were being followed,” I bit out, tersely. “Those men were looking for you.”
She sank into her seat, her face pale, while I made some calls.
I looked at the fear on her face, “Charlotte. Charlotte, you’re safe now.”
She huddled into herself, all the excitement having leached out of her, only to be replaced by a stark look, “How did they find me?”
I scowled, “I don’t know yet. But I plan on finding out.”
The rest of the car drive was in strained silence and I couldn’t help but worry over how Charlotte was avoiding my gaze.
As soon as we entered the apartment, she quickly went to our room, “I need a shower.”
I stared at her retreating back.
All for the best, probably. Just moments after I heard the sound of the water turning on, the buzzer on the front door went off.
Fergus and Ian looked angry after I recounted the details of the small encounter while Zayn had his usual poker face on, although I could sense that he was just as pissed.
“Why would they go after her, knowing that she’s married to me?” I growled, pacing the floor. “She’s in the public eye now. Picking her up sounds like a foolhardy idea.”
Zayn was silent, while Ian left the room to attend a call. Then he spoke, slowly, “You might have to consider the fact that we could be dealing with someone else. The kind of men we’re talking about here, loan sharks, they wouldn’t risk their necks like this. There’s a very good chance they aren’t behind this.”
Fergus frowned, “I’ve brought in the security tapes from the restaurant, both exterior and interior. We can figure out if someone tipped them from the restaurant on Charlotte’s whereabouts.”
I nodded at him, my eyes still trained on Zayn, “Are you saying someone else is behind this?”
Zayn just stared at me, “Every possibility. I found out that the men in the church are underlings, far below in the organizations of the men that Charlotte identified. They could be acting on their own under somebody else’s instructions.”
Fergus scowled, “It would make more sense.”
He leaned against the table, supporting himself by his hands, “I’ll have Greg take another look at Erik.”
I shook my head, “I don’t think it could be Erik. From how Charlotte talked about him, he seems more of a spineless moron. I doubt he has the brains to pull off something like this. But take a look at his father, maybe.”
“Or his girlfriend,” Charlotte’s voice came from behind me, and I turned around to see her wearing my shirt, over a pair of loose pants.
She looked completely dwarfed in them, and when she walked over to me, I tucked her under my arm, “The blonde?”
Her tone was sharp and I could sense the anger in it, “The way she looked at me when Erik was trying to insult me; she didn’t look smug or self-righteous. She looked absolutely hateful. And then she walked out with her phone to make a call.”
Ian had walked back in to hear her word
s, and he studied Charlotte, “Are you sure?”
Charlotte knitted her brow, “I have a feeling she might be involved.”
I pursed my lips as I recalled the conversation I had overheard between Erik and his friend on the day of the wedding, and I said slowly, “She certainly seems to have a lot of control over Erik. It wouldn’t hurt to check her out.”
Ian reached over to grab an apple that was lying unattended on the table and bit into it, “The boys got one of the men. He had a burner on him. Says somebody called him about the location of the restaurant. But aside from that, he’s not saying anything else. We could drop him off at the police station.”
My eyes grew hard, “Let Greg do the interrogation first. He’s more experienced at it. Also, once he’s done, tell him to levy enough charges on the man to lock him up for a good while. And, hand him over to Detective Clarence.”
Charlotte’s form drooped against mine and it occurred to me that she had had an incredibly long day. Although we had an early dinner, the activities of the day must have worn her out.
“Give the tapes to Greg. Let him take a look at them.”
Zayn grabbed the tapes, shaking his head, “I have some time. I want to look at them first.”
Zayn might not have the kind of experience my senior security personnel had, but he had sharp eyes, and I nodded, “Okay, then.”
I glanced at everyone, and raised a brow, “If you think I’m feeding any of you, you would be wrong.”
Ian groaned, “Come on, man. I just came in from work. I know you have some chicken curry in the fridge. I can smell it!”
And just like that the tense mood evaporated.
“Don’t touch the curry,” I growled. “Grams sent it over.”
Ian’s eyes widened, “Just a little bit. I’ve not even had lunch.”
Fergus put an arm around him, “Don’t let this unappreciative asshole get to you. I’ll feed you.”
I immediately clapped my hands over Charlotte’s ears, startling her, “Language, dickheads. Not in front of my wife.”