by Tillie Cole
Ollie stared at me a second too long to be casual, and then cupped his hands and blew into them as if staving off the chill. “It’s bloody cold out here. Shall we take our conversation inside?”
Ollie nudged his head at the men who had taken us from the church. One grabbed my arm. “Don’t fucking hurt her,” Ollie warned them, and the man slackened his grip. “Don’t want my girl in any pain.”
His girl.
He was delusional.
Ollie Lawson was fucking bonkers.
My mind reeled with the knowledge that it had been him in Marbella. He had set up an attack just so he could appear like a white knight and “save” me. So that I would see him, notice him … want him.
I had gone for lunch with him the next day. Shivers ran down my spine when I remembered him pushing me to see if I was okay. Constantly asking. He’d been fishing for answers. Trying to piece together what had gone wrong.
And exactly who had got in his way.
I felt even more nauseous as that information circled my head. Then, the revelation that he was a trafficker. His underground organisation, the masses of money it brought in, was built on the loss and vulnerability of humans. People sold into slavery and sex work. I shuddered. Because he wasn’t some ugly monster, some wicked man whose very demeanour kept you at bay. He was an ordinary man; his father had been a seemingly ordinary, good man. Self-made … but they stood on an invisible empire built on broken dreams and victims’ unheard cries.
Gene and I were led into the old garage Freddie had disappeared into. It looked as though it had dilapidated offices at the back, but Ollie led us to the opposite side of the building, ordering us to sit on the floor in a larger room that I assumed must have once been a waiting room of sorts.
Old, frayed and faded furniture was dotted about the room. A fire in an empty oil can blazed in the centre, and Ollie moved beside it, holding out his palms to the roaring flames. I watched him like a hawk, covertly edging closer to Gene, needing to keep him safe until Arthur could get to us.
“That’s better,” Ollie said after a few minutes. He smiled at me as if his men hadn’t just kidnapped us, murdered Alfie Adley and left carnage in their wake.
When he was apparently suitably warmed, he pulled an old cushioned chair toward us and sat casually down. Freddie stood in the corner of the room, watching me and Gene like we were nothing, not even worth being alive. I sensed that if he’d had the choice, we would have already been worm food.
“So, you killed my friends and family?” I finally said to Ollie. “Just to get me back for your messed-up plan in Marbella. Another staged ‘attack’?” I laughed cruelly at his patheticness. “And what? You were going to swoop in and save me again? I’d fall at your feet and we’d fall madly in love?” Ollie’s cheek twitched, and I knew I had pissed him off. “And you killed my father and Hugo in the process?”
Ollie tipped his head to one side. “Your father and Hugo defaulted on their payments.” He leaned forward. “Did you know the trouble your old man’s company was in? The great and iconic Harlow Biscuits. Did you know it was about to go into administration, and that you, your daddy and fiancé were about to be ruined? They had no money left to their name, not even a bloody penny.”
My pulse raced, but I kept my face neutral. I hadn’t known. I hadn’t known any of it. “Your old man had already given us the deeds to your house. Hugo’s fancy fucking flat in Chelsea. They’d already signed over their cars.” His eyebrows danced. “Heirlooms.”
“You bled them dry. And when they couldn’t pay any more money, they paid in blood.”
Ollie’s jaw clenched, then his nonchalant façade dropped. “Why do you have to ruin EVERY-FUCKING-THING?!” he screamed.
I flinched at his sudden vehemence. The cool persona he wore was shattering and revealing the true evil monster underneath. He got up from his chair and kneeled before me, voice calm and soft once again. “I wanted you by my side. I wanted you to want me back.”
“I could never want you. You killed my family. My friends. You drained my father and Hugo of their assets, of their dignity,” I hissed.
“Dignity?” he said, affronted. “What dignity?”
“You killed them. Tied them to chairs and shot them in their heads as they begged you for forgiveness. For mercy. I saw the video. You sent it to me. You wanted me to see it so when you saved me, you would look the hero.”
Ollie reached out and ran his hands down my face. I tried to pull away, wrenching my head back. He struck out and grabbed my jaw, yanking me close as he sank his nails into my skin. I cried out at the pain, unable to hold it back. Ollie got in my face. “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long.” I froze, and Gene’s breathing changed. He was angry. I wanted to beg him not to try anything. To not get himself hurt.
“You never stood a chance,” I said.
Ollie waved his hand at one of his men. The next second, a woman near my age was dragged in. In fact, as I studied her more closely, that wasn’t the only similarity. She looked like me. Brown hair, same build, same eyes. She could have been my doppelgänger.
She was silent as she was dragged further into the room. I tried to get her to meet my eyes—the same eyes as mine—but she just stared at nothing. No light in her gaze; alive, but no longer living.
She was dressed in a purple silk dress, and my stomach rolled in dread. Ollie walked over to her, running his hands down her bare arms. He cast a look my way, then palmed her breasts.
“Stop,” I said, my heart breaking at the girl’s non-existent reaction, her lack of expression. How long had he been abusing her this way? Then I realised …
“You trafficked her,” I said, knowing it to be true. “You stole her.”
“I bought her,” he corrected and kissed her on the lips. She didn’t react. But that didn’t seem to matter to Ollie. He groaned as if she was kissing him in return, loving him back.
I bought her…
I closed my eyes and recalled Ronnie’s story. Ollie’s family’s business had tried to buy Ronnie too. They’d paralysed her father with debts that he would never be able to pay off and tried to take her as payment.
I bought her …
This woman’s parents, her husband … someone … they had sold her to save themselves. They’d thrown her to the wolves—to the biggest most vicious wolf of all.
Ollie turned until he was facing me, kissing the back of the girl’s neck. “You know,” he said and slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders. The dress fell to the floor; she was naked underneath. It was freezing, but she made no complaint, no move to keep herself warm.
“Your looks aren’t the only thing you have in common with her,” Ollie said, and the anger crashed inside me, bouncing off the walls of my skin like a pinball machine. Ollie dipped his finger between the woman’s legs. I turned my head away from the sight.
Ollie laughed, and I heard him step toward me. “Look at me, Cheska,” he said softly. I didn’t. I kept my head turned away. “I said look at me, bitch!” I whipped my head to him, eyes wide at the way he’d just spoken to me. He smiled lovingly. “That’s better.” He glanced back at the girl, who still stood staring out at nothing. “You have no idea how many of her there’s been.”
I stopped breathing.
“It takes me months to find them. They have to look just right.” His eyes took him far away, but then he hurtled back to earth, his fucking stare on me. “They look like you, speak like you.” Ollie leaned forward and kissed my forehead. I recoiled at his touch. He didn’t seem to notice—or care. “But they’re not you, Cheska. None of them ever measure up.” Ollie got to his feet and walked back to the girl. In one second he’d taken out his knife, and a second later he stabbed her straight through the heart.
The cool demeanour I had been trying to hold on to vanished. I screamed as the girl hit the floor. Her head hit the cement, splitting her skull. Blood poured out. And I saw it, saw the only bit of life I’d seen in her flash across her eyes as she
took her last breath. Relief.
She wanted to die.
My gut squeezed. What had happened to her to make her want to die? To have no hope left in her broken heart?
“You killed her!” I snarled. “Why did you kill her?”
Ollie wiped his knife on one of his men’s coat and put it back in his suit jacket. “Why do I need her when I have you? Now I have the real thing. After all these years, I finally have you. No more pretenders.”
“You don’t have me,” I said, the words clear and loud. “You’ll never have me.”
Ollie flew at me, stopping only an inch from my face. Spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke. “And who does? Adley. Fucking Arthur Adley.” He laughed. “And you think me a demon? He’s a fucking monster.”
“He doesn’t traffic people,” I spat. Ollie shook his head, as if he was disappointed in me. No—as if he was sad on my behalf.
Ollie cupped my cheeks. I tried to pull away, but his hold was ironclad. And I hated it. I hated it because Arthur held me like this. He always held me like this. When he did, I felt wanted. I felt safe. I felt adored.
When Ollie did it, I felt violated.
“You poor, poor, naïve woman,” Ollie said, his tone as soft as if he were speaking to a toddler. “You have no idea of the evil that lives inside him. You haven’t seen the amount of darkness that lives in his soul. Aren’t you afraid of that darkness inside him?”
I made sure I was looking right into Ollie’s eyes. “You haven’t seen mine yet.”
Ollie reared back as if he didn’t recognise me. As if whatever version of me he craved had been poisoned by Arthur’s influence. Good. I wanted to be ruined in his eyes. The truth was, Ollie didn’t know me now. He had never met this Cheska. The one who had been robbed of all her family, her friends. And it wasn’t by Arthur. It was by him. All of this shit was because of him.
He’d poisoned me. He’d ruined the girl he used to crave. I was a monster of his own creation.
Ollie got to his feet, and I knew by the disgusted look he threw my way that I had pushed him too far. I didn’t care if he wanted to toss me aside. I wanted him to never touch me. I wanted him to die. I glanced at the girl on the floor. He had to die for killing her, hurting her, stealing her from this life.
“She was a piss-poor imitation of you,” Ollie said, following my gaze. “Her parents had really fucked up with their loan. Made a deal with me that they couldn’t repay.” He kicked her, rolling her onto her back. He shrugged. “But she was relatively cheap to buy. Her parent’s debts weren’t too much to cover.” He took his gaze from the girl and, with a smirk tugging on his lips, said, “Unlike you.”
It took a while for his words to sink in. For them to register. My heart shuddered at what he was implying. I shook my head, faster and faster the more his hooked lip turned into a triumphant grin.
He didn’t mean it. He was fucking with me.
“I wanted you.” Ollie sighed. “But my old man thought my need for you was weird. Kept telling me to forget about you. That I was being a creep.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, a few days later my old man had a terrible, terrible helicopter accident and met his untimely end, leaving little old me in charge of our empire, of the organisation that was unthreading the underworld, one stitch at a time.”
Cold. All I felt was coldness. Shards of ice sank into my flesh and scraped down each of my bones, making them ache. It was excruciating. “Our business fell to me, and I had a few people I suddenly needed to pay up earlier than planned.”
My dad. Hugo.
“You guessed it.” He made sure I was listening as he said, “They didn’t take too much convincing. We all knew Hugo didn’t love you, not like that anyway. He only ever wanted the company. And dear old Dad was in such deep shit that I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
“You’re lying,” I hissed, but my voice lacked any kind of strength.
“It was simple really,” Ollie said. “To set it all up. You were due to get married—of course that wasn’t ever going to happen once the deal was done. But you didn’t have to know that.”
“You killed them,” I said, feeling that ice start to thaw, rage sneaking through.
“Or did we set that video up to make you think that?”
Every part of me stilled.
No … no, no, no … He was lying. He had to be lying.
Ollie nodded at his men, smiling at me as they left the room. I heard muffled voices outside the room we were in. Then, appearing at the doorway, risen from the dead, was my father and Hugo.
I broke. As I saw their faces, alive and well, I broke apart.
“Cheska,” Hugo whispered, and the colour drained from his face. The man holding his arm pushed him into the room. Hugo fell to the floor a few feet from where we sat.
“Cheska, no …” Gene said beside me. His voice was filled with sorrow for what I was seeing.
My stare moved from Hugo to my father. My father. Who had sold me. Who Ollie said had sold me.
“Cheska,” Dad said, and his eyes shimmered with tears. He tried to reach for me, but the man holding him brought him to his knees too, right beside Hugo. They looked the same as they always had. Rumpled from being brought here, but the same.
Where had they been living all this time? Had they even felt guilty for what they had done?
“No,” I said, refusing to believe the truth that was staring me in the face.
“Cheska,” Hugo said, face crumpling. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“You sold me,” I said, but I was looking right at my father. My father. The man who was supposed to care for me. Love me. But all he had ever been was cold. After Mum died, there had been no love in my world. For once, I was glad my mum was dead. If she were still alive, this would have killed her.
“Ollie said he was going to take care of you. He said he wouldn’t hurt you. That he loved you.” My dad swallowed. As if he knew the words he was spilling were utter bollocks. “You always liked Ollie.” Dad’s head dropped, and in my whole life I had never seen him look broken. He had never been anything but confident and strong. But before me now, he appeared weak, defeated. Finally, I saw the guilt pulsing off him in waves.
“You sold me,” I repeated, his look of apology bouncing off me like I was Teflon.
“The debts were too much.” Hugo’s eyes were like the girl’s had been on the floor. Devoid of life. And I knew, looking at my old fiancé, that he was wracked with the guilt he rightly should have felt. Hugo’s ambition had always been his Achille’s heel.
I’d just never dreamed that I would be the person they sold out to save their own skins.
“You see, Cheska,” Ollie said. “I was your saviour.” Ollie walked to where my dad and Hugo kneeled. “Your own family didn’t deserve you.” He shook his head at them as though disappointed in them himself. “You were just fortunate that I was the one they bargained with for your life. I, who loved you. I, who could give you the world.”
“A world built on nothing but terror,” I snapped, but I didn’t take my eyes off Dad. How could he do this to me? His only daughter …
Dad lifted his head. “I’m sorry.” His apology tried to hook onto my heart. I cast it away. Hugo’s blank expression remained lowered. He was a shell. No more than a living corpse.
“Adley’s firm is built on terror, but you spread your legs for him easy enough,” Ollie hissed, and I saw my dad’s face redden. I saw the slight against me inspire a surge of anger inside him.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” my dad snapped at Ollie, the authoritarian I knew rising to the surface. “Don’t you fucking dare—” Before my dad even had time to finish his sentence, Ollie pulled out his gun and, this time, fired a bullet straight through my dad’s head for real.
Dad immediately slumped to the ground.
“I’m sorry, baby. Please forgive me,” Hugo said, then, finding some spark of life, charged at Ollie. He knocked Ollie to the ground, and I screamed. I screamed as blood
drained from my dad’s body. And I screamed as one of Ollie’s men put the barrel of his gun to Hugo’s temple and fired. The next second he was on the floor, beside my dad, Ollie rolling out from underneath him.
Tears streamed down my face, and I didn’t think I could take any more. I couldn’t take any more blood. Any more deception. Any more death. How much could one person take before they broke?
“Cheska,” Gene said, clearly seeing my emotional freefall. I looked at him beside me. “Stay strong. You have to stay strong.” I closed my eyes and tried to block out my family on the floor, the girl who at first glance looked like me.
Death. So much death.
Ollie dropped to kneel before me. “Shh, sweetheart.”
Looking him dead in the eyes, I spat in his face. “Go to fucking hell,” I said and, in his presence, felt my heart turn to stone.
Ollie wiped the spit from his face, then grabbed my hair. He yanked me to my feet, my scalp screaming at the pain, and dragged me to a smaller room at the back of the garage. I heard one of Ollie’s men dragging Gene behind us. Ollie threw me on the floor. My cheek slammed against the cement.
“You need to watch your mouth, sweetheart.”
I rose to my hands. “You killed Arthur’s mum and sister, didn’t you?” Ollie stopped dead, then turned to face me. “The fire? The cottage?”
“My dad ordered that one. I was a bit young back then to be making murderous decisions.” Gene made a choked sound at the confession. Ollie shrugged. “My old man hated Alfie as much as I hate Arthur. I was glad they fucking burned.”
“He’ll kill you,” I said coldly as Ollie went to shut the door. “He’ll find me here and kill you.”
Ollie paused. “He has no idea who the fuck we are,” he said, pride on his face. “For years we’ve existed here in good old London Town, and no one has found us. My old man made sure of it.”
“But that was him, your dad.” I watched the smile fall from Ollie’s face. “You’ll fuck up. You have fucked up. You fucked up the minute you started messing with the Adleys. You’ve been too messy in your obsessive search for me, in your need for revenge. You’re not your dad. He built an empire. He was Xerxes. You’re just the heir who will never match up. And you’ll see this empire fall.”