Tied up With Love

by Amelia Thorne

  ‘Do you have anything for sweat spots?’ Izzy sniffed at the green gloop.

  ‘Where are the spots?’

  ‘On my bum. I bought some new jogging pants and I wore them once and they made me sweat so much I came out in spots. Most of them have gone but one little bugger remains.’

  ‘You’re such a classy bird, I do wonder why you’re still single. Please tell me you’ve done something about your scary bikini line. Last time I saw it, it was like some kind of terrifying swamp monster was trying to escape from your pants.’

  Izzy blushed. ‘Admittedly I have let things lapse a bit lately. It’s hard to find the motivation when the only person that sees it is me.’

  ‘And me. And to be honest darling, that’s not something I ever want to see again. Come on then, show us your spot.’

  ‘I’m not pulling my jeans down in the pub for all and sundry to see.’

  Bex stood up and frogmarched Izzy into the nearest toilet. ‘Drop them.’

  Izzy rolled her eyes. She had known Bex since before she could walk. There were no secrets between them. Izzy unzipped her jeans and slipped them down a bit so Bex could inspect the spot.

  ‘Bloody hell, Iz, that’s huge. It’s got a life of its own that one. It probably has its own brain cells, its own thoughts. We should give it a name. Bert.’ Bex prodded it and Izzy winced. ‘Hello Bert.’

  Just then the toilet door swung open and a very glamorous women walked in. The Frog and Sausage had a very strict dress code. Jeans, t-shirts, hoodies, trainers, wellies and the occasional cowboy hat were all welcome. This lady looked like she’d come straight from Ascot with her tailored suit jacket and matching silk dress.

  She took one look at Izzy with her bum out and Bex bent over to inspect the spot up close and hurried back out again.

  Bex burst out laughing and Izzy groaned.

  ‘I’m going to the loo whilst I’m in here, get another round in will you?’ Bex handed Izzy a tenner.

  Izzy walked out into the pub and saw Ethan with the Ascot Lady. His eyes caught hers and Izzy felt something shift inside her.

  ‘I just walked in on two lesbians about to have sex.’ Ascot Lady was saying, pulling her jacket tighter around her as she looked around The Frog with disgust. ‘It’s obviously some kind of sordid gay bar. I’d like to leave.’

  Ethan still didn’t take his eyes off Izzy and Ascot Lady turned round to see what he was looking at. ‘That’s one of them,’ she hissed.

  Great. Just great.

  Ethan put his arm round Ascot Lady’s shoulders and ushered her out. He glanced back over at Izzy as he walked out and she was sure there was a smirk on his lips.

  *

  Izzy pushed open her garden gate and walked into the back garden. Bex had left her in the pub a short while before and had sped up the road with a great wheel spin, clearly with only one thing on her mind. Gabe. They were still in that honeymoon stage of not being able to keep their hands off each other. Something told Izzy they would probably never grow out of it. They were due to marry in a few weeks, on Valentine’s Day of all days, and then Gabe was taking her back to his little log cabin in the middle of the Canadian mountains and they would live out the rest of their lives surrounded by hundreds of miles of forests. Bex would die without her copy of Heat and her weekly visit to the nail salon but she was willing to give it all up for Gabe. Izzy was just trying not to think about the moment when she would finally say goodbye to her best friend.

  She let herself in through her Uncle Jack’s back door and smiled when she saw him sitting in his favourite chair with her beloved cat Pete curled up on his lap.

  ‘Traitor,’ Izzy said.

  Pete opened his eye and looked at her unperturbed, before going back to sleep again.

  She leaned down to kiss her Uncle Jack on his cheek. From the side facing her he looked like a sweet old man, a full head of silver hair, a brown cardigan and a pair of navy slippers. The other cheek had a horrific slash that looked like he had been knifed but in reality had happened in a car accident. It had never bothered him, he liked that people thought he was not to be messed with.

  In his current job though it was actually a bonus. He had spent forty years of his life as a postman and one week away from retiring he was spotted by a film director who was shooting some gangster film in London.

  Jack Blake had been given a small role as one of the silent gangsters and his sardonic looks had become legendary. Ever since then, Jack had been cast in several films and crime dramas and a few months before he’d been cast as one of the henchmen in the latest James Bond film.

  He loved it and was quite the local celebrity in Greater Chessingburyford. But to Izzy he would always be her lovely, sweet Uncle Jack.

  ‘What are you so happy about?’ Jack took a swig of tea from an oversized mug that had a faded picture of Mr Greedy on the side.

  ‘I have a job, secretarial mainly, events management, that kind of thing.’ She quickly glossed over the more sordid details of the company. ‘I start tomorrow.’

  Jack scratched behind Pete’s one ear and Pete stretched. ‘Ethan Chase, “Kidnap my Wife”, so I hear.’

  Izzy felt her mouth fall open. ‘Have you spoken to Bex?’

  ‘No, he’s doing a bit of digging about you and your past. He’s put Simon Castello on the case. Nothing escapes that man, he’ll find out who your first boyfriend was, what your pets were called and your weekly spelling test results at the age of nine.’

  Izzy shifted in her seat, uneasily. ‘Simon Castello is a creep.’

  ‘Yes, but he’s very good at what he does. And of course his father and I go way back.’

  ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer,’ Izzy muttered.

  Jack nodded. ‘Exactly. It was Nico that warned me that Simon was currently investigating you.’

  ‘I have nothing to hide. They can dig around all they want.’

  ‘I told Nico that and in courtesy to me he imparted some information about his dear nephew Ethan.’

  ‘Ethan Chase is Nico Castello’s nephew?’ Izzy groaned. What had she gotten herself involved with? Although nothing had ever been proven, it was a commonplace thought that the Castellos were once connected to the mafia.

  ‘Ethan’s a good bloke,’ Jack said.

  This surprised Izzy. Jack didn’t trust the Castellos as far as he could throw them. There had been a long running historical feud between the Castellos and the Blakes which had come to a begrudging end when Jack, at the age of nineteen, had saved Nico’s little sister from drowning in the canal.

  ‘Nico Castello says his nephew is a good bloke and you believe him?’

  ‘The Castellos are not the only ones who can do some digging.’ Jack said, his dark eyes astute and alert.

  Izzy smiled. ‘So you’re saying it’s ok for me to work for him. I have your blessing.’

  ‘To work for him yes, but my dear Izzy, if you get involved with him romantically I may have to disown you.’ Jack mimed tearing off his collar and Izzy laughed.

  ‘But then who would cook your favourite chicken pie?’

  Jack cursed under his breath. ‘Fine you can stay. Disgraceful. Blackmailing your poor old uncle, I would have thought better of you than that.’

  Izzy smiled, hoping that he didn’t know that blackmailing was exactly how she had landed this job in the first place.

  She kissed him on the cheek, again. ‘You taught me well.’

  She grabbed Pete by the scruff of the neck and he wailed his protest as she propped him up on her shoulder. But despite his objections, Pete nuzzled into the side of her neck, purring loudly.

  ‘Night beautiful,’ Jack said, squeezing her hand.

  ‘Night.’

  Chapter Three

  Ethan pulled up outside his office the next day at nine-thirty. He hoped that Isabelle had changed her mind or got bored of waiting. It was freezing outside, so she wouldn’t have waited for long. The car park was deserted and he smiled to himself tha
t he had won that easily. He didn’t want her there. He hadn’t been thinking straight yesterday, when he’d given her a job. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. With her hair all messed up from being inside the bag, it looked like she had just got out of bed and he had wanted to take her straight back to it. He had clearly let that part of his body decide for him. He had thought about offering to take her out for dinner and hopefully dessert to apologise for the misunderstanding but then she punched him in the face and he quickly changed his mind after that. He wanted to get rid of her. He didn’t want to come to work every day and feel this insane attraction for someone he didn’t like. Especially after what he had uncovered about her. But he had a plan.

  He fumbled with his keys to let himself in but as he pushed the key in the lock the door swung open. He walked in, suddenly afraid that they’d been burgled.

  The place was unrecognisable from when he had last seen it the night before. Surfaces were paper free and gleaming, all the coffee cups were gone, the floor was no longer hidden under rubbish but a soft blue carpet he had long forgotten about stood proud against the cream walls. An unsightly stain was now hidden underneath a cream rug and several plants adorned the windowsills. It actually looked like an office as opposed to a room.

  The culprit was dancing and singing in the corner of the room as she filed stuff away in the filing cabinet he had bought but never used. Her long black hair that had fluttered around her face like the sleek feathers of a raven the day before was now tied back in several plaits and clips. She was dressed smartly in black trousers and matching jacket but the most intriguing thing was her standing in his office in bare feet.

  He watched her feet moving as she danced slightly, tiny little feet with gold nail varnish on the toes. He had a sudden overwhelming desire to kiss those feet.

  He pushed that away, angrily.

  ‘Isabelle.’

  She carried on dancing, humming along to some unknown tune in her head, completely ignoring him.

  She squatted down to put something in the bottom drawer and as she did she gave a little provocative wiggle. How inappropriate was that? She barely knew him. Though the thoughts that were suddenly running through his head were hardly appropriate either.

  ‘Isabelle.’

  Still no response and it was then that Ethan realised she was listening to her iPod, the headphones plugged into each ear.

  He tapped her on the shoulder and she nearly hit the roof with shock. She whirled around, her eyes wide with fear for just a second before she let out a little laugh of relief.

  She pulled the headphones out. ‘God you scared me, I was miles away then.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  She frowned, her grey eyes darkening slightly. ‘I work here, remember.’

  ‘I meant in here, how did you get in?’

  ‘The key under the mat. I wanted to get an early start. The place was quite a mess.’

  He looked around him, trying to find fault with what she’d done. ‘I hope you haven’t thrown away anything important.’

  ‘Like the coffee cups or the letter from the phone company telling you your internet will be switched on five years ago? No, definitely not thrown away anything important.’

  ‘Sit down, we need to talk.’

  ‘Ok.’

  To his utmost annoyance she sat in his chair, watching him carefully across his desk.

  ‘That’s my chair.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it had your name on it.’

  She got up and sat where she had sat the day before and Ethan imagined tying her up and gagging her again just so he could say his piece without any smart remarks. He sat down and nearly screamed with frustration when he realised she had adjusted the seat so his knees were nearly up to his chin. He ignored the smug smile of satisfaction from her and pumped up his chair so it was back to the normal height.

  ‘I’ve been doing some research on you Miss Franklin…’

  ‘Izzy.’

  He paused, assessing her, and then pulled out a wad of papers with her life history printed on. He had contacts, very good contacts who had obtained a wealth of information on the intriguing Isabelle Franklin. He didn’t like what he saw. Mostly because it was all good. Still he was going to wait to serve the bad apple amongst the glowing ones until the end of his speech.

  ‘You went to Kingston University in London?’

  ‘Yes, if you have it written down on that sheet of paper I doubt you need to ask me.’

  He ignored her. ‘Studied a degree in Business Studies with Media and Events Management?’

  She nodded again.

  ‘Got a first. Started your own business in your final year of the course. Went bankrupt within three years, so you’re obviously not good with money. Then a catalogue of –’

  ‘How dare you say that. You know nothing about me. You get a few facts and figures written down on that sheet and you think you have me all figured out. My business was a huge success I’ll have you know.’

  He looked at her over the paper, two pink spots of indignation coloured her pale cheeks.

  ‘Then tell me, what went wrong?’ He checked his sheet again. ‘Dream Proposals. It’s not a very original name.’

  ‘And Kidnap My Wife is?’

  ‘Touché. But I don’t imagine there was much call for a proposal service. Most men will just take their girlfriends to a fancy restaurant and pop the question over the oysters. Why make a big song and dance over it, if she loves you and wants to marry you she’d say yes if you asked her over a greasy burger.’

  ‘I take it you’re not married Ethan.’

  He shook his head, readying himself for the slur on his character. He was surprised when it didn’t come.

  ‘If you had found the woman that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, the one that you loved more than life itself, you would do anything to make her happy and the perfect proposal signifies how much effort you will go to in other areas of your life too. There was huge demand for my business. I would arrange harpists, hot air balloon rides, champagne picnics on private beaches, sky writers to adorn the skies with the question at the exact time, proposals written in flowers, diamond rings delivered in ice sculptures, fireworks displays, helicopter rides… whatever they wanted, they got. I could barely keep up with the demand.’

  He watched as her eyes filled with a fiery zeal as she talked about her job. She was obviously very proud of what she had achieved.

  ‘What happened?’

  And just like that the fire vanished and she looked down at her knees.

  ‘I had a website designer, I didn’t know a lot about that side of things at the time, so I let him have free rein. I should have been more vigilant about the wording. Emblazoned across almost every page were the fateful words, “One hundred percent satisfaction, guaranteed”.’

  Ethan winced, guessing where this was going next.

  ‘One man spent over five thousand pounds on his proposal – a beachside retreat in Mexico, champagne breakfast on the beach, swimming with dolphins, and a sunset hot air balloon ride. We had created the perfect day. He asked her to marry him and she said no. He sued me for every penny I had. I was just really starting out, and I didn’t charge very much. My fee was fifty pounds for UK proposals, a hundred for proposals abroad. Then they would pay for the extras, flowers, dinner, flights etc. I would just arrange it all but because of my contacts I could get things a bit cheaper than if they were trying to do it themselves. I made enough money each month to pay all my bills, mortgage, food and have a bit left over in savings. Of course he wanted his five thousand pounds back but that money had never been mine, that had all gone to pay for his holiday and there was no way I could claim that back. I didn’t have enough money in reserve to pay him and he took me to court. He sued me for costs and humiliation. The judge, bizarrely, sided with him. I lost my home, my car, everything.’

  He watched her pick at a stray thread on her trousers. She was
ashamed of this and he felt guilty that he’d pushed her into telling him all this.

  ‘So once you’d gone bankrupt, why didn’t you restart under a new name?’

  ‘Another proposing company bought the rights to my company, offered me a small fee for the website and all names of my contacts. I suppose I was still licking my wounds at the time. I kind of wish I hadn’t sold it now.’

  Ethan straightened his thoughts. He wanted her out, he didn’t want to feel sorry for her.

  ‘And after that you’ve drifted from job to job, clearly not reliable.’

  ‘Temping. You go where you’re sent, some jobs it was just a few weeks’ holiday cover, some jobs it was covering an operation or maternity leave. I didn’t get sacked from any of the temping jobs, the contracts just came to an end.’

  He ignored this and pressed on. ‘You’ve done thirty-six different courses over the last three years – carpentry, car mechanics, painting, plumbing, art, French, guitar, sports coaching, various different computer courses including one on web design.’

  ‘Yes.’ She looked at him in confusion, possibly wondering how he was going to turn this into a bad thing. He was beginning to wonder that himself.

  He might as well go in for the kill now.

  ‘I’m sorry but this isn’t going to work. I’ve established a respectable business here and I can’t have some thug working for me who’s going to ruin all of that. Two of my staff have injuries sustained from their run-in with you and I have a black eye which certainly doesn’t look professional when dealing with potential clients. Really, I should have you arrested for assault. As it is I would like to forget we ever met as quickly as possible, so I’m offering you three thousand pounds to leave now and never come back.’

  He quickly whipped out the cheque he had already written and laid it on the desk in front of her.

  ‘Now hang on, we had a deal. I’m not in the habit of punching people, but I grew up with three brothers and I can look after myself if need be. I attacked you and your staff yesterday because I had been kidnapped and I thought my life was in danger, as you are well aware, but I can assure you this sort of thing doesn’t normally happen.’