by Emelia Blair
“So, I see you’re sharing a bed,” Agatha throws in slyly, making me blush.
“He didn’t give me much of a choice,” I say defensively. “A doctor came to check me out this morning and removed the bandages. He said I can’t sleep on my front, but that’s how I always sleep.” My face flames red. “Philip just makes sure that I don’t turn over in my sleep.” Agatha pops a piece of cookie in her mouth.
“Sure. That’s it.”
“I’m not making it up!”
She shrugs, looking gleeful, “I never said you are.”
The sound of footsteps makes us look up as Ian walks in, a phone to his ear. His red hair is tied at his nape in a tiny ponytail, and his sharp green eyes look annoyed. He sits down at the counter, next to Agatha, listening intently to whoever is on the other line.
“So, fire the man. What are you calling me for?” Agatha breaks her cookie in half and pops it in his mouth and he starts chewing. “It’s one fucking contract. Get rid of him and bring in someone more competent.”
I put a plate of fresh, bite-sized chicken patties in front of Agatha, who is watching Ian intently. When Ian glances at the patties and then at Agatha, she feeds him one.
Well, isn’t this interesting?
The phone call is cut short when Ian abruptly closes the phone on the other man.
“Fucking incompetent morons,” he snarls. Agatha gives him a cheery smile.
“Glad to see you’re having such a good day.”
His scowl fades and the slow smile that forms on his lips is so charming that it could have knocked off any woman’s socks.
“It will get better if you give me a kiss.”
Agatha laughs and leans up to press her mouth to his cheek.
“There. Now stop yelling in front of Charlotte.”
His attention turns to me and it is like a blast of power, becoming the sole focus of his gaze.
“These patties are a work of art, Charlotte.” I am pleased at the compliment.
“I’m glad you like them.”
He grins at me.
“Could you pack me some extra? Jake and Ryan are staying over tonight. I would prefer they eat something handmade rather than the junk they order online.” Agatha snickers.
“Ian’s twin brothers live on fast food. He has zero tolerance for that.”
An arm loops around my waist and I stiffen before recognizing Philip’s unique scent.
“My wife is not your personal chef, Ian.”
Zayn strolls in, just behind him, and drawls, “She can come work as mine if she decides to ditch you. I don’t know what you put in that lasagna Charlotte, but I’m taking Philip’s share home with me.”
I guess their private discussion has ended when Fergus also walks in. Sitting down next to me, Fergus stuffs a few of the patties in his mouth and chews with deliberation. Eyeing me, he flashes me a quick grin.
“You always have a job waiting for you at one of my restaurants, Charlotte.”
I don’t know how to handle all this praise, but I let myself be surrounded by Philip’s warmth, as he presses a kiss against my temple.
I am still unused to such open affection.
Each hour with him shows me how shallow my relationship with Erik was. There were none of these small touches, these moments. I feel guilty about being relieved I was left at the altar, but it is true.
With Erik, it was more of wanting to be needed, but with Philip there is an equal footing. He doesn’t need me for anything but myself. And while I am still hovering with uncertainty on how I am going to handle this situation with him, I can’t help but feel like giving in and just accepting all that he offers me.
“What’s wrong?” Philip murmurs, and I just shake my head. He is holding me to his chest, his chin resting on my shoulder, and I wonder when I started letting him get away with such things in these last four days.
Fergus puts a folder on the table, and I blink.
“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 says grimly. “You were the sole target of this attack.”
Me?
“Who would want to go after me?” My confusion must be evident on my face. “I have too low a profile to go around making any enemies.”
Philip is silent, his arms growing tighter around my waist, before he says, “There are people out there who might want you dead for reasons you don’t know.”
Zayn opens the file and takes out photographs of men that I don’t recognize.
“Do you know any of them?”
I shake my head.
He shares a look with Philip, and then says, almost gently, “These were Nick’s associates. Three of these men were at your wedding.”
It is as if this situation is keep growing more and more bewildering by the minute. I glance at Zayn, uneasy.
“Why would they be at the wedding?”
Ian leans 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 dig 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 frowns.
“Why are you so sure Nick is dead?”
He is right. I have no idea of where my stepfather is. I only assumed that Miguel him killed.
“If he’s alive, then why doesn’t he come after me?” I ask slowly.
Zayn steps forward.
“I used my own 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 swallow, suddenly feeling very cold.
“It still doesn’t answer my question. Why hasn’t he tracked me down?”
Philip speaks this time.
“He might be under orders from Miguel not to approach you.”
The fact that he uses Miguel’s name so casually tells me that his friends are aware of what I shared with Philip. I tell myself that it was necessary if they had to find out the truth, but a sliver of betrayal courses through me.
“Also, your wedding announcement was in the papers,” Fergus reminds me. When I stare at him, not understanding, he explains, “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 feel the shame flooding my face and I try to pull away from Philip’s grip.
“I had to tell them, Charlotte,” he tries to explain, but I shake my head and just step away from him. How can I explain to him how fragile my trust is? What he sees as an inch is a mile to me.
Agatha watches us with narrowed eyes, but she doesn’t say anything.
Fergus doesn’t blink and continues undeterred.
“These are the men who your father had made transactions with.”
I force my hands into the pockets of my trousers, so that they can’t see how violently my hands are shaking. I shake my head, a harsh jerk, my voice rough when I speak.
“They can’t be. I remember what those men looked like. They were different. These men – I’ve never seen these men before.”
“They’ve been spotted near your bakery ever since the wedding was announced.” Philip sounds strained to my ears. “Everything we have so far tells us that these men are probably linked to what happened at your bakery.”
My throat feels 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 see the way Philip stiffens next to me, but I choose not to pay any attention to him. I
am still smarting from the decision he made to reveal my well-kept secret to his friends, without consulting me first.
“There is a very good chance that they might still consider that deal with your father as being valid.” Zayn is blunt in his choice of words, and my blood chills.
“You mean–?” It is getting harder to breathe.
Philip grabs me by the chin and forces me to look at him, his gaze hot.
“They’re not getting their hands on you. I promise.”
That is the moment that Agatha chooses 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 are sharp as she studies me. “They have no reason to kill Charlotte.”
My jaw is tense, and I feel a headache brewing.
“Who could hate me so bad that they want me dead? Aside from Nick?”
“There’s your ex-fiancé.”
I feel a 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 feel Philip grab my hand and my fear overpowers my anger, but I let him ground me. Zayn glances 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 leans on Agatha’s head.
“I’ve brought a catalogue of the equipment that was damaged. You can choose what you like—” I open my mouth to interrupt when his eyes gleam. “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 closes with a snap, and I sigh.
“We’ll clear out. The game’s over anyways.” Ian makes a sound. “The boys are also waiting for me outside my place.” As he picks up his keys, he glances at Agatha, “Need a ride?”
Fergus flings his arm over her shoulders.
“She’s good. I need to talk to her about my new restaurant.” Agatha makes 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 bribes, and Agatha grins.
“Work never stops.”
I note the sharp look Fergus gives Ian, and dimly wonder what is going on there.
I lean against the counter as everyone leaves, picking up their share of the food.
When Philip walks back in, I am staring at the wall, trying to make sense through this whole entangled mess I find myself in. He doesn’t approach me, just sits across from me.
We don’t talk for a few moments. The silence is cold and brittle, before I say, “How can you expect me to trust you when you give away my secrets with such ease?” Philip frowns.
“It was necessary, Charlotte. We would never have been able to—”
“You could have asked!” My voice is shrill, filled with a hurt that I don’t want to reveal.
He stiffens and stares at me, taken aback by my outburst. I see regret fill his eyes.
“You’re right. I should have asked. I’m sorry.” His words throw me off, the easy acceptance in them.
I shift, not knowing my own next step, “Yeah. Well, next time, ask.”
He moves with a fluid motion, around the counter, until I am settled in his arms. Looking down at me, he looks serious as he asks, “Am I forgiven?” I shrug my shoulders.
“Yeah.”
I feel the way his body pressed against mine, all his hard muscles against my softer curves, and I can’t quite control the tingling in my lower belly. He gives me a sly smile.
“Can I get a kiss then?”
The man weakens my defenses, ripping them down every time I try to rebuild them with these small acts, like asking for a kiss.
I don’t know how to react to such a sweet demand, and even as I find myself leaning up to press my mouth to his, I know he is doing it deliberately, wearing me down.
However, unlike the previous times when he let me maintain control of the kiss, there is something more agitated about him this time. His lips move against mine, softly, a gentle movement, until his hand reaches up to grip the back of my neck in a dominant hold.
I barely have time to react before I feel the urgent press of his tongue against my lips, demanding entrance. Moaning against the sudden change in pace, I find myself caving and parting my lips. He quickly seizes the opportunity, and his hot tongue enters my mouth.
I have never been kissed the way Philip kisses me.
My knees weaken as he sucks on my tongue and then takes his time to explore my mouth. He has a firm hold on my neck, his mouth moving against mine with leisure. I feel my lower muscles contract when he licks my mouth, his tongue wet and hot.
He groans when I hesitantly play with his tongue, and I feel the way his hand tightens in my hair, making me tremble with desire.
I find myself out of breath when he pulls away, and my breath comes in short pants, as he kisses my forehead, and holds me to him.
A part of me appreciates how slow he is taking this relationship, but another part of me, having experienced his hot kisses, and the way his hands move over me, wants more.
I want his hands racing over my body. I want him inside me, around me, surrounding me, and as I stare at the reflection of us in the glass of the huge oven behind us, I wonder when I started putting my feelings into words when it comes to him.
11
Philip
Something is wrong with Charlotte. She is agitated, moving from room to room, a frown on her face. From the number of brownies on the kitchen counter, I have come to the realization that my wife likes to bake when she is nervous or frustrated.
I glance up from my laptop when I hear the clatter of the baking dish.
“Ah, Charlotte? Is everything okay?”
She throws me a dirty look, as if she expects me to know the answer to that. I rack my brain, wondering if I said or did something to piss her off.
We have been holed up in the apartment for a few days. It doesn’t bother me because I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on, but maybe she is starting to feel cooped up.
“I have nothing to do,” she growls.
“Don’t you have a class in a few days?” I ask, hesitantly.
“That’s a few days.” She glowers at me. She sinks into an armchair and frowns. “All my books are still at my apartment.” I blink.
“So, send someone to get them.” Maybe that is the wrong answer, because she starts to look more annoyed.
“I want to go myself.” I tuck my tongue into my cheek.
“I’m not seeing the problem here.”
She fidgets.
“I don’t want to go with the bodyguards. It feels weird.” I straighten.
“Did they say anything to you?” Hearing my dangerous tone, she immediately shakes her head.
“No. I’m just not comfortable going with them. And they won’t let me go alone. I tried.”
“You tried going out alone?” My eyes narrow, and she crosses 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 want to tell her off, but even I know this is too much for her. I close 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 looks uneasy at that, and I frown.
“Why not? We’ve been coope
d up for days, avoiding reporters. It’ll be a nice change.”
When she has no counter-argument and leaves to change, I find myself curious at her behavior. Hearing my phone ring, I see my sister’s ID on the screen.
“Hey, Agatha.” She cuts right to the chase.
“Erik released a statement this morning, on a morning show. About how he was forced to leave Charlotte at the altar because he found out about her cheating on him.” Molten fury rolls through me.
“What?”
“Yeah.” Agatha sounds as pissed off as I am. “And get this – he made it clear that the guy Charlotte was supposedly sleeping with was not you.”
“What is his fucking problem?!”
“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.” Agatha’s tone is harsh. “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 one woman. This is not coming from your team or mine, by the way, 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 don’t suggest you and Charlotte 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, snaps.
“I was thinking of taking Charlotte out to dinner today, but she didn’t seem very eager,” I mutter to my sister, still furious at Erik’s cowardice.
Agatha hisses, “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 blink at her burst of temper, and ask, “You okay, kid?” She sighs.
“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 hear a voice in the background and Agatha mutters something to someone, and then speaks to me again.
“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.”
