by Emelia Blair
I put a plate of fresh bite-sized chicken patties in front of Agatha, who was watching Ian intently.
When Ian glanced at the patties and then at Agatha, she fed him one.
Well, wasn’t this interesting, I mused.
The phone call was cut short when Ian abruptly closed the phone on the other man.
“Fucking incompetent morons,” He snarled.
Agatha gave him a cheery smile, “Glad to see you’re having such a good day.”
His scowl faded and the slow smile that formed on his lips was so charming that it could have knocked off any woman’s socks, “It would get better if you gave me a kiss.”
Agatha laughed and leaned up to press her mouth to his cheek, “There. Now stop yelling in front of Charlotte.”
His attention turned to me and it was like a blast of power, becoming the sole focus of his gaze, “These patties are a work of art, Charlotte.”
I felt pleased at the compliment, “I’m glad you like them.”
He grinned at me, “Could you pack me some extra? Jake and Ryan are staying over tonight. I would prefer they eat something handmade than the junk they order online.”
Agatha snickered, “Ian’s twin brothers live on fast food. He has zero tolerance for that.”
An arm looped around my waist and I stiffened before recognizing Philip’s unique scent, “My wife is not your personal chef, Ian.”
Zayn strolled in, just behind him, and drawled, “She can come work as mine if she decides to ditch you. I don’t know what you put in that lasagne Charlotte, but I’m taking Philip’s share home with me.”
I guess their private discussion had ended when Fergus too walked in.
Sitting down next to me, he stuffed a few of the patties in his mouth and chewed with deliberation. Eyeing me, he flashed me a quick grin, “You always have a job waiting for you at one of my restaurants, Charlotte.”
I didn’t know how to handle all these praises, but I let myself be surrounded by Philip’s warmth, as he pressed a kiss against my temple.
I was still unused to such open affection.
Each hour with him told me how shallow my relationship with Erik had been. There had been none of these small touches, these moments. I felt guilty about the sense of relief I felt at being left at the altar, but it was true.
With Erik, it had been more of wanting to be needed, but with Philip, there was an equal footing. He didn’t need me for anything, but myself. And while I was still hovering with uncertainty on how I was going to handle this situation with him, I couldn’t help but feel like giving in and just accepting all that he offered me.
“What’s wrong?” Philip murmured, and I shook my head. He was holding me to his chest, his chin resting on my shoulder, and I wondered when I started letting him get away with such things in these last four days.
Fergus put a folder on the table and I blinked.
“The attack on your apartment was premeditated. There were traces of accelerant around your building, enough so that had you even woke up, you wouldn’t have managed to survive,” Zayn said, grimly.
“You were the sole target of this attack.”
Me?
“Who would want to go after me?” Confusion was evident on my face. “I have too low of a profile to go around making any enemies.”
Philip was silent, his arms growing tighter around my waist, “There are people out there who might want you dead for reasons you don’t know.”
Zayn opened the file and took out photographs of men that I didn’t recognize, “Do you know any of them?”
I shook my head.
He shared a look with Philip, and then said, almost gently, “These were Nick’s associates. Three of these men were at your wedding.”
It was like this situation kept growing more and more bewildering by the minute.
I glanced at Zayn, uneasy, “Why would they be at the wedding?”
Ian leaned against the counter, “They weren’t on the guest list. I checked. Not even under aliases. Our team verified each and every guest by name, picture and address. These men crashed your wedding. What their intentions were, nobody knows.”
My blunt nails dug into Philip’s arm, “Do they think that Nick is alive, and I know where he is? Is that why they were there? How would they even know where I was?”
Ian frowned, “Why are you so sure Nick is dead?”
He was right.
I had no idea of where my stepfather was. I had only assumed that Miguel had him killed.
“If he’s alive, then why didn’t he come after me?” I asked, slowly.
Zayn stepped forward, “I used my own underground network and put out some feelers. A man matching Nick’s description has been seen in the city, but from what I understand, he is working for Dark Silver, paying off some sort of debt.”
I swallowed, suddenly feeling very cold, “It still doesn’t answer my question. Why hasn’t he tracked me down?”
Philip spoke this time, “He might be under orders from Miguel not to approach you.”
The fact that he used Miguel’s name so casually told me that his friends were aware of what I had told Philip. I told myself that it was necessary if they had to find out the truth, but a sliver of betrayal coursed through me.
“Also, your wedding announcement was in the papers,” Fergus reminded me.
When I stared at him, not understanding, he explained, “I did some checking into your father’s financials. Turns out that he never managed to clear those debts, the ones for which you were used as collateral.”
I could feel the shame flooding my face and I tried to pull away from Philip’s grip.
“I had to tell them, Charlotte,” He tried to explain, but I shook my head and just stepped away from him. How could I explain to him how fragile my trust was?
What he saw as an inch was a mile to me.
Agatha watched us with narrowed eyes, but she didn’t say anything.
Fergus didn’t blink and continued, undeterred, “These are the men who your father had made transactions with.”
I forced my hands into the pockets of my trousers, so that they couldn’t see how violently my hands were shaking.
I shook my head, a harsh jerk, my voice rough, “They can’t be. I remember what those men looked like. They were different. These men – I’ve never seen these men before.”
Philip sounded strained to my ears, “They’ve been spotted near your bakery ever since the wedding was announced. Everything we have so far tells us that these men are probably linked to what happened at your bakery.”
My throat felt dry, “Even if that were so, what could they possibly want from me? I don’t have a penny to my name. I have no savings, nothing. Everything I own is worthless. It’s just junk I’ve collected over the years.”
I saw the way Philip stiffened next to me, but I chose not to pay any attention to him. I was still smarting from the decision he had made to reveal my well-kept secret to his friends, without consulting me first.
Zayn was blunt in his choice of words, “There is a very good chance that they might still consider that deal with your father as being valid.”
My blood chilled, “You mean –?”
It was getting harder to breathe.
Philip grabbed me by the chin and forced me to look at him, his gaze hot, “They’re not getting their hands on you. I promise.”
That was the moment that Agatha chose to speak up, “What I don’t get are two things. For starters, if they were at the wedding, was it to verify Charlotte’s identity or to snatch her? Because if they wanted to snatch her, they could have done that when she was alone, getting dressed. The church hardly had top security. And secondly, if they do want her for whatever reasons that you’re not sharing with me, I’m guessing they want her alive.”
Her eyes were sharp as she studied me, “They had no reason to kill Charlotte.”
My jaw was tense, and I could feel a headache brewing, “Who could hate me so bad that th
ey want me dead? Aside from Nick?”
“There’s your ex-fiancé.”
I felt hysterical laughter bubble in my throat.
“Erik? He already saw to my humiliation. I don’t even know why he did that. Murder isn’t his thing.”
I felt Philip grab my hand and I felt my fear overpower my anger, but I let him ground me.
Zayn glanced at me, and then at the rest of the occupants of the room, “Obviously we don’t have everything right now. We’ll keep digging. Meanwhile, Charlotte, you haven’t left the apartment for a few days, but when you do, there will be two security personnel with you at all times. They’ll blend in, so you don’t have to worry about standing out.”
Fergus leaned on Agatha’s head, “I’ve brought a catalogue of the equipment that was damaged. You can choose what you like-“
I had opened my mouth to interrupt when his eyes gleamed, “There are no prices written, so don’t think about going for the cheapest thing. I already have an idea of what to get. I just want your input.”
My mouth closed with a snap, and I sighed.
“We’ll clear out. The game’s over anyways.” Ian made a sound. “The boys are also waiting for me outside my place.”
As he picked up his keys, he glanced at Agatha, “Need a ride?”
Fergus flung his arm over her shoulder, “She’s good. I need to talk to her about my new restaurant.”
Agatha made a face, “It’s the weekend. I don’t want to work-“
“I’ll get you some Ben and Jerry’s on the way,” Fergus bribed.
Agatha grinned, “Work never stops.”
I noted the sharp look Fergus gave Ian and dimly wondered what was going on there.
I leaned against the counter as everyone left, picking up their share of the food.
When Philip walked back in, I was staring at the wall, trying to make sense through this whole entangled mess I found myself in.
He didn’t approach me, just sat across from me.
We didn’t talk for a few moments. The silence was cold and brittle, before I said, “How can you expect me to trust you when you give away my secrets with such ease?”
Philip frowned, “It was necessary, Charlotte. We would never have been able to-“
“You could have asked!” My voice was shrill, filled with a hurt that I didn’t want to reveal.
He stiffened and stared at me, taken aback by my outburst. I saw instant regret fill his eyes, “You’re right. I should have asked. I’m sorry.”
His words threw me off, the easy acceptance in them.
I shifted, not knowing my own next step, “Yeah. Well, next time, ask.”
He moved with a fluid motion, around the counter, till I was settled in his arms. Looking down at me, he looked serious, “Am I forgiven?”
I shrugged my shoulders, “Yeah.”
I could feel the way his body pressed against mine, all his hard muscles against my softer curves, and I couldn’t quite control the tingling in my lower belly.
He gave me a sly smile, “Can I get a kiss then?”
The man weakened my defenses, ripping them down every time I tried to rebuild them with these small acts, like asking for a kiss.
I didn’t know how to react to such a sweet demand, and even as I found myself leaning up to press my mouth to his, I knew he was doing it deliberately, wearing me down.
However, unlike the previous times when he would let me maintain control of the kiss, there was something more agitated about him this time. His lips moved against mine, softly, a gentle movement, till his hand reached up to grip me by the back of my neck in a dominant hold.
I barely had time to react before I felt the urgent press of his tongue against my lips, demanding entrance. Moaning against the sudden change in pace, I found myself caving and parting my lips. He quickly seized the opportunity and his hot tongue entered my mouth.
I had never been kissed the way Philip kissed me.
My knees weakened as he sucked on my tongue and then took his time to explore my mouth. His firm hold on my neck, his mouth moving against mine with leisure. I felt my lower muscles contract when he licked my mouth, his tongue wet and hot.
He groaned when I hesitantly played with his tongue, and I felt the way his hand tightened in my hair, making me tremble with desire.
I found myself out of breath when he pulled away, and my breath came in short pants, as he kissed my forehead, and held me to him.
A part of me appreciated how slow he was taking this relationship, but another part of me, having experienced his hot kisses, and the way his hands moved over me, wanted more.
I wanted his hands racing over my body. I wanted him inside me, around me, surrounding me, and as I stared at the reflection of us in the glass of the huge oven behind us, I wondered when I had started putting my feelings into words when it came to him.
11
Philip
Something was wrong with Charlotte.
She was agitated, moving from room to room, a frown on her face.
From the number of brownies on the kitchen counter, I had come to realize that my wife liked to bake when she was nervous or frustrated.
I glanced up from my laptop when I heard the clatter of the baking dish.
“Ah, Charlotte. Is everything okay?”
She threw me a dirty look as if she expected me to know the answer to that. I tried to rack my brain wondering if I had said or done something to piss her off.
We had been holed in the apartment for a few days.
It didn’t bother me because I had a lot of paperwork to catch up on, but maybe she was starting to feel cooped.
“I have nothing to do,” She growled.
“Don’t you have a class in a few days?” I asked, hesitantly.
She glowered at me, “That’s a few days.”
She sank into an armchair and frowned, “All my books are still at my apartment.”
I blinked, “So, send someone to get them.”
Maybe that was the wrong answer, because she started to look more annoyed, “I want to go myself.”
I tucked my tongue in my cheek, “I’m not seeing the problem here.”
She fidgeted, “I don’t want to go with the bodyguards. It feels weird.”
I straightened, “Did they say anything to you?”
Sensing my dangerous tone, she immediately shook her head, “No. I’m just not comfortable going with them. And they won’t let me go alone. I tried.”
My eyes narrowed, “You tried going out alone?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, defensively, “I wanted to check out the repairs on the bakery. And there is nothing subtle about those two.”
I wanted to tell her off, but even I knew this was too much for her.
I closed my laptop, “I’ll take you. You can have a look at your bakery, pick up your books, and then we can go out for dinner.”
“For dinner? We don’t have to do that.” She looked uneasy at that.
I frowned, “Why not? We’ve been cooped for days, avoiding reporters. It’ll be a nice change.”
When she had no counter argument and left to change, I found myself curious at her behavior. Hearing my phone ring, I saw my sister’s ID on the screen.
“Hey, Agatha.”
She cut right to the chase, “Erik released a statement this morning, on a morning show. About how he had been forced to leave Charlotte at the altar because he had found out about her cheating on him.”
Molten fury rolled through me, “What?”
Agatha sounded pissed off, “Yeah. And get this - he made it clear that the guy Charlotte was supposedly sleeping with was not you.”
“What is his fucking problem?!”
Agatha’s tone was harsh, “I don’t know what he wants with her, but this is starting to sound more of an attempt to badmouth Charlotte, and I don’t understand why. Don’t worry though. I put my own spin on that, painting him as a weak sniveling fool, who couldn’t even hold on to on
e woman. By the way, this is not coming from your team or mine. It’s coming from another client I have. He was on the talk show after Erik, and I called him up to feed a few lines. I suggest you and Charlotte don’t make a public statement, but it’s time you two make a few appearances so that people know she’s not the skank Erik is trying to portray her as.”
The pen in my hand that I had just picked up, snapped.
“I was thinking of taking Charlotte out to dinner today, but she didn’t seem very eager,” I muttered to my sister, still furious at Erik’s cowardice.
Agatha hissed, “Well, of course, she wouldn’t. You haven’t exactly taken her out on any sort of date. You just have her holed up in that godforsaken apartment of yours, doing God knows what.”
I blinked at her burst of temper, and asked, “You okay, kid?”
She sighed, “Grams is breathing down my neck. She wants to know why she hasn’t been able to see Charlotte yet.”
“She cornered me as well a while back. It wasn’t pleasant.”
I heard a voice in the background and Agatha muttered something to someone, and then turned to me, “Look, I’m serious about taking her out. You want to convince her you love her, which I know you do, by the way, you need to show her you’re not ashamed of taking her out in public. She’s a McCoy now, and hopefully she’ll stay one, if you don’t mess this up. I can bet you’ve just been working since we left.”
“That’s not true,” I tried to lie, ineffectively, feeling the guilt mount up.
“Whatever, bro. I know. Don’t screw this up.”
Hearing the phone click as she hung up on me, I wondered when I had become so bad at dating. But Agatha was right. I needed to take Charlotte out. I needed to show her that I wanted her at my side.
“When are we leaving?” I heard the familiar voice, and when she came out of my room, she wore a shirt and a pair of pants, making me realize that I hadn’t even bothered to buy her a proper wardrobe. The clothes Agatha had brought from her apartment were old and I could tell that money had been skimped on them.
I picked up my wallet and keys, my mind made up, “Now. We’re leaving now.”
