The British Billionaire Bachelor, Act Two

by Maggie Carpenter

  Belle wanted to rush her, to throw the drink in her face, but Theresa was in terrible straits trying to catch her breath, and Belle was terrified Amaranth would make good her threat. The woman was completely out of control, and the knife at Theresa’s throat was too threatening to take the chance. Lifting the glass to her lips, Belle took a gulp, and then another, and another.

  “Finish it!” Amaranth demanded.

  Man, I’m going to have one hell of hangover, Belle thought, assuming I get out of here.

  It wasn’t easy but Belle managed to down the entire glass, and satisfied, Amaranth shoved Theresa forward on to the floor, then reaching down, picked up Belle’s iPhone.

  “You two just stay put,” she cackled. “I have some thinking to do, and don’t worry, I’ll make sure everyone knows not to disturb you. I’ll be back before you know it so don’t try anything,” she finished, slamming the doors closed. Belle could hear her doing something on the other side, and guessed Amaranth was securing it so they couldn’t get out.

  She waited, listening carefully, and when she heard the bedroom door close she moved quickly to Theresa. Her head was already beginning to swim, and she almost fell over as she bent down to check on her.

  “Theresa, you poor thing. Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she sobbed. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.”

  “Catch your breath. I’m going to call Simon. Don’t worry. We’ll get out of here.”

  Racing to her bag she pulled out T-Rex, but had to sit down. The influx of alcohol was pumping through her system and she was feeling very strange. There were only two contacts in her phone, Simon and Badir. Punching Simon’s name, she held the phone to her ear, praying he would answer. He didn’t, the call went straight to voicemail.

  “Simon, this is Belle. Amaranth has locked Theresa and me in my closet. She’s out of control. Just hurry home and bring the police, and a doctor, she’s filled me full of alcohol. Hurry, hurry, but be careful. She’s really dangerous.”

  As Belle disconnected and was about to call Badir, Theresa, having somewhat recovered, crawled across to join her.

  “Wow, I’m starting to feel really crappy,” Belle stammered. “Like, really, really, dizzy.”

  “Don’t pass out. Do you know what Amaranth put in the vodka? If only I could get to the cart I could bring you something to eat, some coffee or something.”

  “Nothing. In the vodka I mean. Amaranth did put something in it but I switched the bottles. I’m fine, I’ve just drunk a crap load of vodka. Oh man, I’m getting really smashed. This is getting bad. Listen,” she said slowly, trying to focus, “you can get out through the mirror. It’s a door. On the side there’s a button, and then in the bathroom, walk to the end. There’s a hidden door out to the hallway. You can escape, get help.”

  Desperate, Theresa moved to the mirror as quickly as her pain would allow. Finding the tiny button, heart pumping, she pushed it urgently, and to her great relief and surprise the mirror slid aside.

  Belle was sure she was going to pass out. Her arms felt like lead, and she couldn’t believe the vodka was affecting her so much and so rapidly. She tried to lift her hand to call Badir, but everything was spinning wildly.

  Theresa said a prayer of thanks as she ran through the bathroom, across the bedroom, and into the living room. A thousand options were running through her head. She could leave and get help, or call from the house phone and lock the door until someone arrived, but she was terrified Amaranth would return at any minute. What if she caught her in the middle of the room, or picking up the phone?

  Grabbing some pastries, the thermos of coffee and a cup, she raced back the way she came, noticing that Amaranth had tied the closet doors together with some kind of scarf. Running back into the bathroom and through the mirror door, she closed it behind her then dashed back to Belle.

  “I’m back,” she called, as she ran across to her.

  Belle’s eyes were closed, and the phone was laying in her limp hand. Quickly pouring some coffee, she brought the cup to Belle’s lips.

  “Wake up, you have to wake up,” she begged, shaking her, panic-stricken.

  Belle’s eyes fluttered, half opening.

  “Drink, drink,” she pressed, holding the cup to Belle’s mouth.

  To her relief, Belle took some sips, and Theresa grabbed the pastry, literally stuffing it into Belle’s mouth.

  “You have to eat, it will help.”

  Grabbing the phone while Belle was slowly chewing, she saw the only call that had been made was to Simon. Belle had passed out before being able to call Badir, whoever that was. Pushing his name, she held the phone to her ear. Her heart was hammering, her ribs hurt, and she prayed fervently the man would answer.

  “This is Badir, how may I help you?”

  “Oh, thank you,” she sobbed. “My name is Theresa, and I work for Simon Sinclair. There’s a woman here, Amaranth, and she’s crazy. She’s made Belle, that’s Mr. Sinclair’s friend, drink a whole glass of vodka, and she attacked me, and we’re locked up in the closet in the master bedroom. I know a way out but I’m afraid to leave, and Belle is kind of passed out from the drink. Please, please help us.”

  Badir was standing behind the counter in his shop, and it took him a moment to grasp what the hysterical female on the end of the phone was telling him, then a sense of terror filled his heart. He had to find a way to reach Simon.

  “I am there. I am there. Don’t worry,” he assured her urgently. “I will bring help.”

  Theresa dropped the phone, collapsing in a flood of relieved tears, but they only lasted a moment. Finding strength in the man’s response, knowing help was on the way, she got control of herself and tried to think. How long it would take for him to arrive she had no clue, and Amaranth could return at any time.

  “Keep chewing,” she said to Belle, “I’ll be right back.”

  Dashing to the mirror, she opened it up, and ran back into the living room to retrieve the trolley, hurriedly pushing it through the bedroom and bathroom, returning to the closet. It wasn’t easy maneuvering it through the narrow mirror door, but she managed, and placing it next to the island where Belle was sitting, she removed all the china and silverware.

  “Come on, you need to get up,” she groaned, trying to pull Belle to her feet. “You have to. Come on. Before she gets back.”

  Belle could hear the words, but her body felt incredibly heavy, and her head was running around in circles. She understood, it was just so difficult.

  “Drink this, drink this, as much as you can,” Theresa insisted, holding the coffee to her mouth.

  Belle managed two big gulps, then, with a supreme effort, she struggled to her feet.

  “Use the cart,” Theresa said, helping Belle rest her body across the top. “Just roll with it. You have to help me find that other door you mentioned, the one into the hallway. Can you hear me?”

  “Yes, I–yes,” Belle managed.

  With the cart supporting Belle, and Theresa at her side, they were able to make their way through the mirror door and down the short distance to the end of the bathroom.

  “Miss Somers, how do we get through?” she asked urgently, staring at what appeared to be nothing but a wall.

  Belle lifted her head, waving her arm at the molding.

  “There. Sh-shift,” she managed.

  Theresa ran her hand frantically across the wood to which Belle had pointed, and discovered a piece of molding that seemed to move under her hand. Just as she did, she heard something. The door to the living room was being opened. Amaranth had returned!

  In a frenzy she pushed again, but nothing happened.

  “Other way,” Belle stammered.

  Hands shaking with fear, she shoved it in the opposite direction, and suppressed a cry as the door swung open into the hallway. Helping Belle drive the trolley forward, they made their way to the elevator.

  “We have to go faster,” Theresa whispered as loudly as she dared.

  Belle�
��s legs felt like lead, but with Theresa urging her on the trolley gained some momentum. Reaching the elevator, Theresa almost cried when she discovered it was already on the floor, the doors opening immediately when she pushed the call button.

  Nudging Belle and the cart forward, Theresa punched the ground floor button frantically, and just as the doors began to close, she heard a shriek. Darting her eyes up she saw Amaranth stepping out of the living room into the corridor, and in her hands was the biggest pair of scissors Theresa had ever seen.

  “That’s right, get out, get out. You don’t belong here!” Amaranth shrieked, running down the hallway to the elevator, raising the scissors high in the air. “I’ll slice you both if you don’t get out. Simon is mine, he’s always been mine.”

  Theresa felt helpless, unable to do anything but watch as the crazy woman ran towards them. Petrified the doors wouldn’t close in time, she pulled off her shoe, hurling it at the crazed woman sprinting towards them. To her shock the shoe hit Amaranth square in the face, stopping her progress, and as the doors silently closed, and the elevator began to descend, Theresa fell on top of Belle, hugging her and crying unabashedly.

  Can’t this thing go any faster?” Simon demanded. Parker was weaving through the London traffic, maneuvering the Rolls in and out of lanes as quickly and as safely as he was able.

  “Doing my best, Sir,” Parker replied, feeling as anxious as Simon. Belle was in trouble, and he knew his boss was beside himself with worry, but the last thing he needed was to get into a fender bender trying to get home.

  It had been just a few minutes before that Badir, unable to reach Simon, had immediately thought of Cecil. As Simon’s private secretary, he always knew where his boss was.

  Simon had been in a conference room with a dozen executives when Cecil had unexpectedly burst into the room, gesturing frantically. Knowing he wouldn’t do such a thing without good reason, Simon had immediately excused himself. Cecil was only halfway through giving him the news of Belle’s plight, before Simon was running through the hallway of his office suite summoning Parker to bring the car around and calling Badir to speak to him in person. Badir informed him he was already at the house, Dr. Bradshaw was on his way, and Amaranth was missing.

  “If you haven’t already, don’t call the police,” Simon directed.

  “I haven’t Mr. Sinclair. I was going to, but I thought I should talk to you first.”

  “Good. Don’t. I’m on my way.”

  The police could not help Amaranth, and Simon wanted to keep whatever was going on out of the press if he could. Belle didn’t need another public drama.

  As the Rolls raced through the streets, Simon’s next call was to Ian McCarthy, his head of security.

  “Ian, get four of your security guys and get over to the house. We have a situation.”

  “Yes, boss. Should we be armed?”

  “Uh, just you, just in case,” he answered and clicked off the line.

  Amaranth, what have you done? What have I done, letting you into my house? Starvos told me you were troubled, but just how troubled are you?

  Running his fingers through the list of names on his phone, he found Starvos and touched the screen. It was a number reserved for emergencies only, a number that he’d arranged with Starvos in the event of a crisis. The line connected and Starvos answered immediately.

  “Amaranth is in trouble, Starvos. You need to get back here.”

  “I’m in Paris. I can be there in a couple of hours. What did she do?”

  Not knowing the full answer, Simon simply said,

  “The full extent of that remains to be seen, but it’s bad. You need to come in.”

  The Rolls turned down his street, and Simon clicked off the phone, knowing Starvos would be on his jet to London as soon as he was able. Jumping from the car the instant it pulled into the curb, he raced up the steps, bursting into the foyer, and found Badir trying to catch his breath, standing with Henry, the butler, both looking very worried.

  “What’s happening? Where’s Belle?” Simon demanded.

  “I ran up the stairs, Mr. Sinclair,” Badir declared, “but there was no-one in your suite. I just got back down. We don’t know where anyone is.”

  The sound of the elevator bell announcing its arrival caused them all to turn around. Simon instinctively knew his precious Belle was inside, and running as fast as he could through the foyer, he reached it just as the doors began to open. Belle was draped across the trolley, Theresa sobbing at her side.

  “Help, quickly,” he called, and Henry, Badir, and the two footmen raced to his aid.

  “Belle! Oh dear Lord. Theresa, tell me what happened,” he enjoined frantically.

  Stepping in he lifted Belle from the trolley and into his arms, carrying her into the reception room.

  “Belle, oh, my dear God. Belle, can you hear me?”

  Henry put his arms around the shaking, crying Theresa, following Simon, with Badir at his side.

  “Tea, bring tea,” Henry barked at the footmen.

  He wasn’t exactly sure what to do, but tea always seemed like a good idea, and the young men, shocked at the drama, hurried away to fetch the country’s cure-all.

  Simon sat on one of the large couches, cradling Belle in his arms.

  “Badir, call Dr. Bradshaw, number’s in here, find out where he is,” Simon commanded, handing Badir his phone. “Belle, wake up. Theresa, do you know what Amaranth gave her?”

  “J-just v-vodka,” Theresa stammered. “B-Belle t-told me, A-Amrinth had p-poisoned it, b-but B-Belle had already sw-switched the bottle. Amaranth d-didn’t know. M-made her d-drink a h-huge glass.”

  “Thank God for that,” Simon exclaimed. “Come on, sweetheart, wake up. Come on,” he said firmly, stroking her face.

  Knowing he needed to stay strong and calm, he fought the emotion that was sweeping over him and the panic that was seizing him, but his pulse was racing, and he couldn’t stand to see her comatose.

  Please, please open your eyes, he cried silently. I don’t want a life without you in it. Please, Belle.

  “Dr. Bradshaw is here,” Badir announced, looking up at the approaching physician.

  “She was forced to drink a very large glass of vodka,” Simon informed him. “I just found out that’s that’s all she’s ingested.”

  “I m-managed to get s-some c-coffee and pastry in her,” Theresa stammered.

  “Good for you,” Dr. Bradshaw replied. “Even a little bit would have helped. Let’s take a look.”

  Kneeling down the doctor opened his bag, and as he did, Belle fluttered her eyelids, and stared up at Simon.

  “Hey, handshome,” she slurred. “I feel like, oh maaan, r-r-reeeally bad.”

  “Thank heavens you woke up,” Simon exclaimed, fighting tears of relief.

  “I h-heard you.”

  Simon frowned, and fleetingly wondered if she was referring to his silent, heartfelt pleas. Were they that connected? Dr. Bradshaw helped her sit up, and busied himself listening to her heart and taking her blood pressure.

  “Have her drink plenty of water, and some tea and aspirin. She needs a good long sleep and she’ll be fine. I don’t think she’s had enough to sustain alcohol poisoning.”

  “Thank you for rushing over here,” Simon said gratefully. “We thought she’d been poisoned.”

  “Could you take a look at Theresa?” Henry asked. “She was attacked, punched in the stomach, is that right, Theresa?”

  “What? Why?” Simon asked, shocked at the news.

  “She was coming at Belle with a knife, and–and–I tried to stop her, and she–she kicked me,” Theresa sobbed. “Then when she was making Belle drink the vodka, well, it’s a long story, but she p-punched me again.”

  “For heaven’s sake. Theresa, I’m so very sorry. Please, Dr. Bradshaw, please make sure she’s all right. Whatever she needs,” Simon promised.

  “Is there somewhere we can go with some privacy?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes,
please follow me,” Henry declared, standing up, his arm still around Theresa’s shoulders.

  As they left the room, one of the footmen arrived with the tea and some sandwiches.

  “Please pour the tea and put it on the coffee table,” Simon said, and waited impatiently for the young man to do the duty. As soon as he had left, he raised the cup to Belle’s mouth, insisting she drink, following it with the small finger sandwich.

  “So bad, feel so bad,” she mumbled.

  “You’ll be okay. Just a little more, then I’ll take you up to bed.”

  “Lots of women,” she stammered.

  “What are you saying?” Simon asked, confused by her statement.

  “Amaranth. You had lots of women there.”

  Simon rolled his eyes.

  “Yes, you know I’ve had lots of women, but none in our suite. That has always been very private to me. You’re the first woman I’ve had there.”

  Belle slowly lifted her head, trying to focus on his face.

  “Reeaaally? That’s not what sh-she said,” Belle slurred.

  “Forget what she said. The woman is insane,” he said firmly.

  “Okay. Yep. Inshame. I mean, inshane. Mad. She’s mad.”

  “Mr. Sinclair,” Henry announced, entering the room. “Ian MCarthy is here with four of his men.”

  “Excellent. Please show him in here, and have his men wait in the foyer.”

  “Yes, Sir. How is Miss Somers?”

  “Doing better, thank you, Henry.”

  “Thank goodness,” he declared, and turning, moved briskly away.

  Moments later, Ian walked in and Simon gestured for him to sit down.

  “I assume you know what’s happened?” Simon inquired.

  “Yes. Cecil brought me up to speed and Henry just filled in the blanks.”

  “Good. I think Amaranth is still somewhere in the house or on the grounds. She’s completely lost it. I don’t want her be harmed, but tell your men to be careful. Apparently she has a violent side and I’m given to understand she may be carrying a very large pair of scissors. Find her, sedate her, and put her in her quarters with a guard on the door. You know where that is?”