by Lannah Smith
It dawned on me that Terry thought I was being funny.
Me.
My body froze.
"I don't know what you may have heard about me," I whispered that made them lean their heads towards me so they could hear me, "But I do not have the intentions to make some sort of relationship with you lot."
"Except me," Emilia pointed to herself. "Because we're already best buddies."
My eyelid twitched. "That is something I'm deeply re-considering right now, Schuyler."
"Oh, dear," she glanced at the three. "I'm in deep trouble if I'm a Schuyler to her."
I gritted my teeth. "This is not a joke. I know you care deeply for Christopher but leave me out of that."
"Well, what if we invite Christopher to my daughter's christening?" Sophia prompted.
"I'm staying home."
She frowned. "He won't let you stay home. You know that."
"I have my ways of convincing him."
"What about my wedding?" Emilia inserted. "You know you're the maid of honor, right?"
"There is no way I'm going to be your maid of honor,” I snapped. “We already talked about that."
"But you'll be in my wedding."
I hesitated. "Only for a short while."
"Look," Terry sighed. "Like it or not, we're going to be seeing much of each other. I don't like you but I don't feel like murdering you anymore. We can make this... friendly relationship work. We have to if you want your boyfriend to be happy. And I know you want him to be happy."
"He wants me to be happy too. And this doesn't make me happy."
"That's why we should come to an agreement that can make the both of you happy. I can be friendly." Terry lifted a brow. "Can you?"
Before I could answer, Sophia shook her head.
"I told you not to force her, Terry."
"Finally,” I exhaled loudly. “This is the first sane thing you've ever said today."
Sophia smiled at me. "I just don't want you to feel pressured. You just came back from Europe. You're still adjusting. Even I know Emilia had to blackmail you just to come to the mall with her because you're not comfortable with these many eyes on you just yet."
I gave Hannah a sharp look. She gave me a subtle shake and I let out the breath that I'd been holding. Last night, I had asked Christopher who else knew about what happened to me. He admitted Hannah did. When I asked him if she knew about his real occupation, he admitted that even though she did not know all the dirty details, she did know. And William Carter, her fiancé, also acted as Christopher’s ears when he could.
Sophia went on, "But like Terry said, we'll be seeing each other a lot now that you're with Christopher. I don't know about the others but I'll tell you right now, I have no hard feelings against you. So you can talk to me comfortably."
My stomach clutched again. Painfully.
"Will you take your baby now if that's the case?" I said tightly.
She chuckled and reached for her child. Oddly enough, I missed the weight in my arms when it was gone.
“Europe,” Terry murmured, drawing my attention from Sophia. “Right. You went off the grid but this whole time, you were in Europe. We all thought you ran away. I didn’t want to believe it myself but Christopher tried so hard to find you. Why’d you have to hide, April?”
She caught the look I gave Hannah. Damn it.
I met her gaze straight-on. “And do you seriously think I’ll tell you?”
“Probably not today but soon,” she smirked and it was starting to grate on my nerves. “Because we will be best buddies soon.”
I rolled my eyes. "Do I have to sleep with your men to get you off my back?"
Sophia giggled. “I don’t think Christopher will let you, April.”
Staring at them, I realized they were serious about this whole thing. I still didn’t like it. Still didn’t want a part of it. But I didn’t get a chance to reject it, not when Emilia was looking beseechingly at me.
Letting out a low exhale, I picked my untouched cappuccino and took a sip.
Then my head jerked up when I happened to look at the door.
A woman with a baby stroller was glaring fiercely at me through the glass.
Chapter 62
Christopher was signing papers handed to him by his secretary when Alec entered his office.
“The car’s ready,” Alec informed him.
Nodding distractedly, he muttered, “Just a moment, Alec.”
“Hannah is also on the phone. Should I tell her to call you back?”
Christopher stopped writing and stared hard at Alec. “Isn’t she out with the women?”
“Yes. I have the vaguest feeling that she’s in the toilet, secretly making this call.”
She probably was.
Sighing, Christopher returned the signed papers to his secretary. Then he picked up the phone and leaning back in his chair, said into it, “You have five minutes, sweetheart. I’m busy.”
“What the hell did you do to April?”
He blinked at Alec. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“It’s like you worked a miracle on her. She’s… different. She’s not like the malicious, spiteful—.”
“Not like the girl you used to know?” he cut her off.
“Yes!” she exclaimed. “I don’t know if she’s just keeping her temper and viper’s tongue under wraps but I do know she’s almost have me convinced that the bitch is gone. That you helped her change for the better.”
Christopher sighed and watched his secretary come back to slide some papers across the clear glass desktop to him. “I didn’t help her change anything, Hannah. April has always been a good person.”
A pause, then, “Are we talking about the same woman?”
He reached for the papers and gave them a cursory glance. “I told you there were a lot of things you don’t know about her.”
“But she knows about your… other job, doesn’t she? And she knows that I know too?”
“Yes.” He flicked a glance at Alec who was still on standby. “Yes, she does.”
Hannah inhaled sharply across the line. “I’m sure she adjusted pretty quickly to that fact.”
“Just the opposite. She hates it.”
“Seriously?” she asked in disbelief. “But isn’t her father—?”
“Your five minutes is up,” he interrupted when Alec tapped his wrist. “I have to go, Hannah. I’ll meet you for dinner later, alright?”
“You never tell me everything,” she started to whine.
“And I never will,” he swiveled his chair around and stood. “For your safety. See you later, sweetheart.”
Then he hung up the phone before she could protest.
Alec was sliding the papers into his briefcase. “Jaehyun has informed me that April is well, if not furious. And I have found the investigator Terry hired. He luckily didn’t manage to get too far.”
Christopher could already imagine the expression on April’s face. She was most likely to become upset. He shook his head. As much as he loved his female friends, they too lacked boundaries like their men. He’d be lucky if April talked to him without screaming tonight, blaming him for putting her into that situation.
At least Sophia was with them. She would help defuse the situation before it escalated.
As Christopher and Alec walked out of his office and down the aisles lined with secretarial cubicles and executive offices, he was the object of glances and smiles from his employees who wished him an advance Happy New Year. He replied with a preoccupied smile and continued through, pausing once in a while to check with some of them about work.
Truth be told, Christopher thrived in his first line of work, derived immense satisfaction from closing deals and making profit. He had fallen into this almost naturally since he had a way with people, of getting them to open up. John, especially, had been pretty impressed that he could run the real estate business smoothly. But he wasn't going to take credit for all that. He really did have an efficient st
aff.
Christopher studied the papers Alec brought with them while he was in the car. The congressman whose property they’d been after had finally given in and sold it to them. Having acquired it at last, Christopher would have to get busy making sure that piece of land would be worth its price and the headache it brought them.
“We’re here, sir.”
He dropped his hand and looked out the window. They had arrived at his childhood home, the house where his grandparents still lived. Alec opened the door and he stepped out, handing him the document. Then taking a deep breath, he stared at the large Victorian house for a second then adjusted his suit and entered.
There was a huge painting of his grandparents above the landing of the split staircase in the middle of the foyer. A much younger and newlyweds Edmund and Isabela Lawrence looked down at him, their faces stern. It was a painting he saw everyday, a painting that reminded him of his loss. Because for a brief moment, a picture hanged on that very spot in the house. A picture of Christopher taken when he turned five in the arms of his father and of his mother smiling at the two of them.
Over the years, his grandmother had redecorated most of the old house to make it modern and cohesive but his grandfather didn’t allow her to take this down for some reason. Looking away, Christopher climbed the stairs to the east wing of the house to where the master bedroom was, located at the end of the hallway. He didn't hesitate at the threshold and opened the door, stepping inside. He knew she would be in here this time of the day.
And she was, sitting in the middle of the bed with the sheets around her lap.
Isabela Lawrence.
His grandmother.
She was staring unseeingly at the wall across her. Christopher took a moment to stare at her from the door. A tightness welled in his chest. Her red hair was staring to turn white and her shoulders were more bent than they used to be. Years ago, she had been a proud, regal but warm and loving woman. But since the death of her son, her health had started to deteriorate. Despite that, when his parents died, she had tried to be more than just a grandmother to him.
His grandmother suddenly turned her head. She squinted her eyes toward the door. He frowned. Her eyesight too had been getting poor for the past few years. And she was constantly forgetting where she placed her glasses.
"Who's that?" she called out.
He took it as his cue to enter the room and pulled up a chair near the bed. "It's me,” he softly said, taking her hand. “I've come to visit."
A smile came slowly on her face, then turned brilliant.
"Benjamin," she reached up to touch his face. "You came."
Christopher fought the pain squeezing the air out of his lungs. He forced a smile on his face. "Of course, I came. I missed you."
"I missed you too, son. And I’m so happy that you’re here." Her face then turned concerned. "You look tired. Is your wife exhausting you?"
He chuckled. "She - she is."
"Tell her to come with you next time, alright?"
"I will. I promise."
They visited each other for almost an hour. Christopher could see that his grandmother was forcing herself to stay awake. Her eyes were starting to droop. He kissed her forehead and said his goodbyes. She was out asleep before he could even leave the room.
His grandmother had also been diagnosed with Alzheimer's two years ago. And around that time, she had started to call him his father's name. Benjamin. It hurt to watch and listen to her pretend he was her dead son. It made it hard for him to come around, because it too fucking hurt to see her slowly losing her mind.
If his grandfather had one redeeming factor, it was that he cared deeply for his wife. Edmund Locke was faithful to her, something Christopher would have found out if he wasn't. And as far as Christopher was concerned, it was the only redemptive quality the old man had.
But nothing more.
Christopher went to the study next. He didn’t bother to knock and the men guarding the door didn’t bother to stop him when he pushed the door open. His grandfather was seated behind his desk. He hated this room as much as he hated the painting. Once, long ago, he used to love coming into this room to find his father there.
"You're here," his grandfather grunted, brown eyes slicing to him. "About fucking time."
No welcoming smile. No open arms to offer him a warm embrace. Not like Christopher expected it, he already knew his grandfather was nothing but blackened ice inside.
Edmund Lawrence was already in his late sixties but he still looked good and his body still fit. He also still held a presence that was both magnetic and menacing. Years ago, this compelling aura around him held power over Christopher but not anymore. If it wasn't for his grandmother, Christopher would have never set foot on this house ever again.
"If I knew you missed me, I'd have returned sooner," Christopher told his grandfather with a grin. Usually, he sat across from the old man’s desk but tonight, he moved to the window. It caught a corner view of the rooftop of a mansion miles away.
"You have a lot to explain, Christopher."
His grandfather was glowering at him when his eyes returned to him. Christopher remembered a time he came here often, hoping for even the tiniest bit of his grandfather’s attention. He never got it.
"Like what?" he asked in a bored tone.
"Like stealing April Locke from her father and her home."
"Her home?" he chuckled darkly. "It ceased to be her home the moment her asshole father raised his hand against her."
"Something that isn't your business."
"But it is. Because she's mine."
His grandfather’s eyes flashed before he stood and slammed a fist on top of the desk.
"Do you even know what you have done?" he hissed.
Christopher ignored the ominous look that had come over the old man and said, "I know."
"Are you aware that Edward Locke has declared war on us?"
"He already did. Years ago. I'm sure you remembered."
His answer made his grandfather rock back on his heels. "We called a truce,” he replied in a quieter voice. “You broke it."
Christopher started to laugh.
His grandfather was full of shit.
Locke spilled Lawrence blood and they called it a fucking truce, the bastards.
Flushing with anger, Edmund Lawrence tried to keep his voice calm when he said, "If it's marriage you're interested in, there are a lot of women—."
Christopher didn’t let him finish. "I only want her," he stated firmly, leaning against the wall next to the window, folding his arms.
His grandfather turned appalled. "Are you even listening to yourself?
He shrugged offhandedly. "You're not going to be invited to my wedding if you keep this up. And I am going to marry her. Not asking your permission. Just informing you. Which is the reason why I even came, by the way."
His grandfather's complexion reddened even more vividly. "God damn it, Christopher—."
"You'll not take me away from her.”
“You’re far too obsessed with that woman—.”
“If it’s a sin to love her than I’d gladly shake hands with the Devil when I meet him in hell.”
"And you don't care that her father ruined all our lives?" he bellowed. "Ruined this family? You don't care that her father killed your parents? Your sister?”
Christopher fought the urge to cross the distance between them and slam his fist into his grandfather’s face.
"Her father,” he returned coldly. “Not her. She didn't mean to be born as his daughter. It was not her choice to be born as his daughter.”
His grandfather opened his mouth to retort but Christopher wasn’t done.
“And it was you who ruined this family. You forced my father into a position he did not want just to continue this stupid family legacy. A legacy that killed him. A legacy that almost killed me."
His grandfather stiffened and closed his mouth. Christopher made no attempt to hide the disgust in his e
yes.
"Oh, I knew. Grandmother always told me how you two fought. How she wished you two would stop fighting. It didn't take me too far to dig to know what caused your disagreements."
Face twisting with fury, his grandfather’s voice dropped to a whisper.
"We would have lost everything.”
"And we did," Christopher whispered back with old bitterness. "We did when they instigated that crash that killed my parents."