by Emelia Blair
I don’t know what was stopping me. But I didn’t want to sign those papers.
My one mistake all those years ago had cost me Charlotte’s friendship, and I had gleaned enough about her intentions from when we had met recently to understand that the minute I signed these papers, she wanted nothing more to do with me.
I couldn’t have that.
Missing her was like a physical ache in my soul.
I grit my teeth.
How could one small woman be such a thorn in my side?
This was why I had never wanted to attend that damned wedding, to begin with. Seeing her brought all my unresolved feelings to the front and I couldn’t control my actions when it came to her.
I had seen her all for half an hour and I ended up marrying her!
Charlotte McCoy.
My pen tapped on my knee furiously as I tried to contain my satisfaction at that title.
It suited her.
I could see her by my side and it infuriated me that she was making me act like a damned juvenile.
It had always been like this, ever since I had come back from college.
While I had watched over her protectively when she was a child, I had been blown away by the quiet woman she had become, her big dark eyes now holding a different sort of awareness when they looked at me.
I had been determined to enjoy my early twenties. While I had flirted and dated with a wild abandon, whenever she would walk into a room, I would be drawn to her. My eyes would follow her every move and at times, I would wonder if I had become a stalker. Her presence had drawn out a side of me that I rarely showed anyone.
The first few times had been awkward when I had run into her, but she hadn’t said anything, just gave me that small smile of hers that spoke of secrets I wasn’t aware I would yearn to know.
Her bruises had still been there, only she had learned to hide them better under her full-length arm sleeves and modest clothing.
Charlotte had held on to her pride like a lifeline, never once accepting any money or clothes, no matter how much Agatha and Grams had tried to force them on her. She would wear those faded clothes that I never knew where she got from. But I did know that she was quite skilled at mending and stitching. That little secret of hers I had discovered when I had mourned the tearing of my favorite jersey and she had asked me to hand it over to her.
Sitting on one of the garden benches, her nimble fingers had moved deftly over the material, as I sat there, shirtless. Maybe, that was when we actually struck up a friendship?
I did wonder at times how it would have been if I had never acted upon that strange sensation I had felt for her.
Would we still have been friends?
Would we have been more than friends?
Well, I sighed, my eyes moving towards the young executive who was flapping his arms around in an attempt to explain the financials on the screen.
One quick glance at them told me all I needed to know, and I stood up, my chair scraping back loudly.
The other members of the board turned to stare at me.
I didn’t pay them any heed, nodding towards my assistant to remain and follow the rest of the pitch. Tucking the envelope under my arms, I stuck my hands in the pockets of my pants and strolled out without so much as a goodbye.
This investment decision could diversify my portfolio, but I wasn’t completely sold on how high the current CEO had levered the company. Nor was I in a mood to get into any discussions at this particular moment.
My driver was waiting outside, and I slid into the backseat of the Rolls-Royce, bidding the doorman a good day.
Feeling the car purr to life, I stared outside, the envelope lying on my lap. I didn’t enjoy being driven around. I preferred my own hand behind the wheel, but on business-related meetings, I had to maintain my image.
Feeling the pangs of hunger, I redirected the car to a restaurant I was quite familiar with.
And for good reason.
Fergus was lounging behind the bar, having taken over from the bartender and he didn’t look particularly surprised to see me.
“You look like someone slugged you with a dead fish,” He commented from across the room when I entered, resting his elbows on the bar.
I gave him a blank stare, “Why are you so weird?”
He shrugged.
Taking off my coat, I sat down, “Give me something strong.”
Fergus eyed me with an unholy gleam in his light blue eyes, “Day drinking, are we?”
As he fixed me a long island iced tea, I stared gloomily at his black outfit, “What is with you and black? I’ve never seen you wear any other color.”
Fergus glanced over his shoulder at me, smirking, “The ladies love it.”
I took the drink he handed me and sipped at it, “It’s a wonder you haven’t contracted some nasty disease with how much you sleep around.”
Fergus grinned, “It’s my Irish luck. ” He made a face, “I’ve had a dry month, though.”
Shaking my head, I glanced at the menu, “My condolences. Why isn’t the pasta you made the other day, on the menu?”
My friend frowned now, and one could tell that he took his work very seriously when he wore that serious look on his face, “There’re a few kinks I’m still working out in it.”
“That’s a pity,” I remarked. “I had a yen for it. Give me a bowl of shrimp soup then.”
Fergus nodded at one of the waiters passing by and the boy rushed into the kitchen. It paid to be the boss. Leaning against the bar, he informed me, “I’m thinking of buying up the restaurant on Maine Street. Thought I would tell Ian to see if he can look at the management chain there.”
“Ian?” My confusion must have shown on my face because Fergus continued, “I know he’s a Crisis CEO, but I want to take over the whole chain of restaurants and I hate anything to do with management meetings and what not. He can deal with the upper management and I can go ahead and do what I do best.”
I threw the remaining drink down my throat and then said, considering, “You want to take over Wellingtons? I did hear rumors that they’re edging towards bankruptcy.”
Fergus bared his teeth in a smile, “Exactly. Now, what’s that?”
I stared blankly at the envelope that I had unintendedly brought inside with me.
I let Fergus slide out the documents and watched him carefully as my soup arrived.
His face didn’t show any flicker of reaction. Instead, he glanced at me, “Why haven’t you signed these?”
I didn’t hesitate, “Because I don’t want to.”
I had been friends with Fergus for as long as I could remember and right now when he gave me an unnerving look, I knew he would drag out the truth from me, if I even knew what the reason was.
“Why not?”
I dug into my soup, not knowing how to answer him.
“Philip, are you in love with this woman?”
Was I in love with Charlotte?
“She’s been around as long as I can remember. And when I saw her last week, I realized how badly I missed her. If I sign those papers, she’s not going to stick around, Fergus.”
Fergus tucked the papers in the envelope, his brow furrowed, “So, you want to be friends with her? What are you, five?”
I immediately bristled at the insult, “Fuck you.”
Not that he was bothered.
He looked amused, “You went to her wedding, even though any one of us could have gone as Agatha’s plus one. You married her the second she was jilted at the altar, although there could have been a number of ways to handle that situation. Then you decide not to get the marriage annulled, despite the fact that it’s the logical solution. You want to know what I think?”
“I really don’t,” I muttered.
Fergus continued as if he hadn’t heard me, “I think the reason you’re so desperate to tie her to you is because you’re in love with her.”
“’Love’ is a very strong term,” I tried to reason with him, bu
t mostly myself. “I might have feelings for her-“
Fergus stared at me if I had suddenly announced that I wanted to wear a tutu and dance in his restaurant, “If this is how you behave with women you ‘might’ have feelings for, I’m worried about what you’ll do once you’re in love.”
I turned my gaze back to my soup.
“Face it. You’ve always been in love with her. You should’ve seen the way you watched her when we were young. You were like a puppy. We all had a pool going of what would happen if she actually threw you a stick-
Fergus danced out of reach as I tried to hit him, howling with laughter.
Some of the diners looked over, a little taken aback at the noise.
“I’m not in love with her.” Even I could hear the lack of conviction in my statement.
My friend sobered up, “Would it really be that bad if you were?”
I stared.
Fergus poured me a glass of water and thrust it towards me, “When she disappeared with just a note to Agatha, we all knew you had something to do with it, even if you refused to discuss it. You changed your entire life around after she left.”
His words struck a chord in me and I gazed at the liquid in my glass.
The vibration from my phone made me pick it up, blindly and I saw Agatha’s text message. Frowning, I stuck the phone back into my pocket and ignored the continuous vibrations.
“Who’s that – never mind,” Fergus grinned when his own phone lit up, “Agatha says you need to decide what the hell you want or she’s going to have me and Ian beat you up.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, and Fergus shrugged, “She’s the boss, man. We’re just her slaves.”
“Just because she handles all your PR, doesn’t mean you have to bend to her every whim. That little brat needs a whooping.”
Fergus raised a brow, “Says the brother who panicked when she sprained her wrist by falling off the bed.”
I scoffed, “Like you and Ian weren’t right there next to me threatening the poor doctor.”
Fergus looked a little thoughtful, “Is Zayn the only one who doesn’t let her lord it over him?”
I pushed the empty bowl away from me, “They’re always at each other’s throats. You’d think they were toddlers the way they fight.”
I picked up the envelope, and sighed, “Tell Agatha, I’ll deal with this.”
Fergus abandoned his light-hearted persona, “Think about what I said, though. If you want to keep her tied to you, it’s not friendship you’re after.”
I gave a curt nod, and walked out, a million thoughts racing through my head.
An hour later, I walked into my apartment to find the last person I wanted to see today.
I rubbed my temples, “Hello, Grams.”
Jolene McCoy watched me, a displeased look in her eyes, her arms crossed against her chest, one foot tapping on the carpeted floor, “Where’s my granddaughter-in-law, Philip?”
I cursed Agatha under my breath, and raised my hands in surrender, “Let me explain.”
6
Charlotte
I wiped down the last counter and put the rag in soap water to soak overnight.
Untying my apron, I take it off and hung it on its hook. Then glanced at the sandwich that lay unattended on one of the tables. I had placed it there to eat as dinner, but I found I wasn’t quite hungry.
I picked up the plate and covered the sandwich with a dampened cloth to prevent the bread from stiffening. Tucking it into the fridge, I turned off the lights, and made my way upstairs, tired and exhausted.
It had been a long couple of days and I sat down on the lumpy couch that I had dragged in from the street a few years ago. My feet on the faded coffee table, I switched through the channels, not wanting to go to bed just yet.
There was an action movie playing, one that had been in the cinemas last year, but I hadn’t been able to go watch it. Settling in, I emptied my mind and focused on the theatrical action sequences, not wanting to think anymore.
However, with everything going on, that was a foolish wish and my mind drifted off.
I hadn’t heard back from Philip, and Agatha had told me that he was avoiding her calls. I didn’t know what was going on in his head. I wasn’t blaming him for what he had done. Upset as I had been when Erik had said what he had and left, I had been just as involved in marrying Philip.
And as far as what he had said about getting Erik back, it had worked to some extent. One of the assistants I had worked alongside with, when I had been working with Erik last year, often dropped by my bakery for some baked goods for her kids. Today, she had been bursting with gossip about how Erik had to return from his holiday early to fend the company’s reputation because the shares had dropped. According to the woman, who had looked positively gleeful, it turns out that with the reporters hounding his office and him not being present to try to contain the situation, rumors had leaked and some hefty investors had backed out.
I lifted the remote to raise the volume of the movie.
I couldn’t say that the news didn’t make me slightly satisfied.
When I had met Erik two years ago, he had been struggling in his father’s company. We had struck up a friendship when I had stuck my nose out and corrected one of the details on a document he was working on.
Once he found out that I had a bachelor’s degree in management, albeit from not the best reputed school out there, he would often turn up asking for my advice on different matters. Over the months, he advanced in his father’s company, and his attitude started changing.
My hand tightened on the remote, my blood heating up with anger.
No, he had always been an asshole. I had just been too swept up in the notion of somebody needing me that I had let myself be played. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have noticed the signs; the hint of a perfume, the late nights when he would leave me working in the office and go out to meet a colleague for work stuff and then come back looking disheveled.
A sigh escapes from my lips.
I really was stupid, wasn’t I?
Had I been that desperate for affection that I had ignored all the signs that he was cheating on me?
When he had been promoted to the position of the CEO a few months back, things changed again. That was the moment when he had started asking me to come to his office and help out. Experience in a company would have done wonders on my CV and he had kept promising me a part time job so that I could manage both the bakery and a job in his company.
Not that he ever gave me a job.
My face darkened.
I really hoped Philip’s punch loosened a few of those perfect teeth he was so proud of.
Two times.
I had fallen in love two times.
And both times, each man had made it a point to humiliate me in the worst way possible.
I wasn’t going to fall for it a third time, I vowed.
I had bounced back from what had happened on my wedding day. Well, bounced back from part of it. This situation with Philip still had to be resolved. Hopefully when he sees the papers I sent him today, he would decide to close this chapter and realize that whatever idea he was clinging to, was a foolish one.
I reclined even more, glaring at the creaking fan above me.
I really need to get it fixed.
As the movie droned on, my eyes slowly drifted shut, exhausted.
I don’t know when I woke up, but I was sweating profusely when I came to.
The television was still blaring with some late-night show in the darkened room and I pulled myself into a sitting position, ignoring my stiff muscles.
Blearily, I looked around, not understanding why it was so hot.
The ceiling fan above me creaked on at a moderate speed, the sound part of the background. The windows were also wide open, so ventilation was not a problem.
I got to my feet, cursing myself for falling asleep in such a position that all my back muscles were cramped. A quick glance at the wall cloc
k told me that it was just shy of midnight.
I was just stretching out when I heard a noise.
It was soft, barely discernible, but I stopped moving, straining my ears to hear.
There it was again.
It was coming from downstairs.
I clutched the back of the couch, not knowing what to do. There was clearly an intruder downstairs but calling the police would be useless. This wasn’t a particularly good neighborhood and the police avoided coming here. And if they did, they would take a lot of time.
I heard a louder noise this time as if something smashed and my blood ran cold.
All my precious equipment!
I grabbed the baseball bat from behind the door that I kept for security reasons and my heart hammered in my throat, as I slowly reached for my front door to go down to the bakery.
The sudden vibration against my leg made me jump and I realized it was my cell phone. Seeing Philip’s number, I cut the call.
It rang again, and frustrated, I answered, my voice hushed, “What do you want, Philip? I’m busy.”
His voice always sounded like sin, low and husky.
Right now, there was a tinge of authoritativeness to it and he sounded a little put off, “Whatever you’re doing, stop it. We need to talk.”
I slowly turned the lock and pulled the door open, my voice a bare whisper, “We can talk later.”
I could hear the suspicion in his voice, “Why are you whispering?”
I restrained the growl building up in my throat, and I hissed, “Because I don’t want the intruder to hear me. Can I deal with one goddamn problem at a time?”
Silence on the other end, before he asked in a dangerous tone, “I’m sorry, did you just say there’s an intruder in your apartment?”
Maybe it was odd for him, seeing how he lived in such an upscale neighborhood. Break-ins were common in my area.
This would be my second break-in in these last few years.
There was a scar on my ankle as a reminder of what happened when someone was bigger and meaner than you and held a knife.
I gripped the bat tighter in my hands, “I’ll call you back.”
I stuffed the phone in the pocket of my harem pants and wielded my bat as if I actually knew how to use it.
