by Sofia Daniel
“You look like you’re going to church,” I said.
“I told them I preferred the fellowship of my students at the chapel instead of joining them in the Templar cathedral.” He offered me the crook of his arm.
“Do you ever go to church?” I asked.
“Not unless I have no chance.” Gideon checked his mobile, where a banner from Uber messaged him that the driver had just arrived. “Thank you for accompanying me. You look both beautiful and respectable.”
As we stepped out into the brisk morning, I said, “Best to keep the PVC catsuit for a day when I wasn’t meeting Mr. and Doctor. Adewale.”
Outside was a black BMW X6, the same model Sammy drove. I peered down into the front seat, relieved to find the driver was Asian.
“Professor.” Gideon opened the door, letting out a gust of warm air.
“Huh?” I climbed inside and scooted to the far end.
“My parents are very strict on titles.” Gideon took the seat next to me and shut the door. “Father used to teach Chemical Engineering before he accepted a research position with Shell Nigeria.”
My stomach lining trembled with trepidation. A doctor and a professor? Gideon himself was posh enough. What kind of people was I going to meet?
The driver took us to the Templar House Hotel—the same Tudor-style establishment Orlando had arranged our romantic night together. Its lobby consisted of dark wood floors and beamed ceilings with red-velvet chairs arranged around a roaring fire twice the size of Mr. Burgh’s. Behind its counter stood a pair of women wearing waistcoats the same shade as the chairs.
One of them walked toward us with a clipboard and beamed. “Mr. Gideon Adewale?”
He offered the woman a tight smile. “Good morning.”
“Professor and Doctor Adewale said to seat you at their table if you arrived before them.” The woman hurried us through a wood-paneled library, which led to another hallway of arched, stone walls and checkered marble floors.
“What’s going on?” I whispered.
“Don’t ask,” he whispered back.
At the end of the passageway were tall, stained glass windows, and to our immediate right stood the doors to a restaurant half the size of the academy’s dining room. The receptionist handed us over to the host, who told us our table for five was ready.
We stepped into a bright room, illuminated by crystal wall lights shaped like candles and three delicate-looking crystal chandeliers. Tall windows took up an entire wall flooding the space with even more light. Unlike the reception, the chairs were deep, blue velvet that matched the sweeping drapes.
The host sat us at a window seat with a view of the hotel’s huge lawn and pond that stretched up to an evergreen forest. Beyond the breathtaking sight were hills and then mountains shrouded by mist.
“Is Mary coming?” I asked.
“She left early to meet them at church,” Gideon muttered.
I nodded, trying to remember if I’d seen his cousin on the few occasions I’d visited the chapel within the Templar Academy’s grounds.
After the host brought us a soft drink from the bar, Gideon took my hand and frowned. “How are you coping with recent revelations?”
I shook my head. “It’s hard to say. So much has happened since last weekend that I don’t have enough time to recover from one shock before the next comes along and kicks me in the gut.”
His eyes softened. “To think that everything terrible that’s happened from your family was the work of three evil individuals.”
“It’s no wonder Elizabeth turned out so badly.”
Gideon took a sip of his diet coke. “I hope that Mr. Burgh can mount a suitable attack, now that you’ve armed him with the truth.”
I was about to reply when his eyes widened and he rose to his feet. I turned to find the most spectacular woman standing in the doorway. Her skin was several shades lighter than Gideon’s, and she wore a head wrap of sparkling green silk with large, silver earrings and a thick necklace of emeralds set in silver.
Her outfit was a lace dress with a mermaid silhouette that hugged a curvaceous hourglass figure. Its transparent sleeves flared at the elbows and at the bottom, it flared at the knees. My gaze dropped down to her limited edition Louis Vuitton bag, and I gulped. At least I knew where Gideon got his flamboyant style.
Dr. Adewale’s face broke out into a smile of high cheekbones and red lipstick that gave her a radiant glow. She crossed the room with her arms outstretched.
Behind her was Mary, who wore her school uniform, and a six foot-tall man who looked exactly like the actor who played Mr. Eko on Lost. He wore an eggplant-colored, two-piece suit in a shade that appeared nearly black with a matching tie and pink shirt. I gulped. If I was into older men, I’d probably be salivating right now.
His mother swept Gideon into a hug, and spoke to him in a rapid language I didn’t recognize. Gideon hugged back, answering her questions in English.
“Miss Lilah Hancock, I presume?” Gideon’s dad’s voice was as posh as his son’s but as smooth as silk-velvet. He held out his hand and flashed me a dazzling smile.
“Pleased to meet you, Professor,” I said, cringing at my Richley accent.
Gideon’s mother turned, seeming to notice me for the first time. She was far too classy to give me the Richley up-and-down glance, but her controlled, closed-lip smile said she wasn’t happy with his choice of girlfriend.
I offered her a polite smile and forced myself to remember that this was for Gideon. Even if he knew his mother wouldn’t approve of me, it was still better than coming out to them before he was ready.
Gideon’s mother had already ordered for us the night before, and we started with king prawns cooked in tempura batter served on a salad of edamame beans and pickled vegetables. The waiter served us sparkling grape juice that tasted almost like wine. It would have been a delicious meal if Gideon’s mother stopped lapsing into another language.
Professor Adewale explained that it was Yoruba and made a point of saying that everyone in Nigeria of a certain level of education spoke perfect English. Dr. Adewale either didn’t get the hint or didn’t give a shit.
I hummed and smiled at the right places.
When the waiter cleared the main course, Gideon’s mother turned to me and frowned. “My niece tells me the allegations about your grandfather are false, but how do they say in English? There’s no smoke…”
I pursed my lips. The woman spoke the language better than me.
Gideon placed a hand on my wrist in a silent signal to leave the talking to him. “Elizabeth Liddell is a very disturbed young woman, prone to violent outbursts.”
His mother pursed her lips. “Because of the cocaine?”
Professor Adewale placed a napkin to his lips and groaned. “We agreed not to bring up these subjects at the table.”
“Miss Hancock is here to answer for the headmaster,” Dr. Adewale said with a sniff.
The conversation continued like this, with Gideon’s mother firing question after question, and everyone else at the table telling her to back down. My heart sank. Normally, I’d come out swinging at a time like this, but I was here for Gideon, and couldn’t wreck things by telling his mother to shove her accusations up her ass.
A man took one of the seats nearby and turned his face toward our conversation. I glanced over to his table and met the eyes of Lachlan. Gideon’s phone buzzed, and I gave him a sharp nudge. He glanced across the dining room and inhaled a sharp breath through his teeth.
“Mother,” his stern voice cut through the argument. “Would you like to know why a supposedly well-bred young woman would act in such an unseemly manner?”
She tilted her head and raised her brows.
“Some of them crack under parental pressure to conform to unobtainable expectations.” He laced his fingers with mine. “Lilah is a friend who came to support me during your stay, but our relationship is strictly platonic.”
Dr. Adewale’s gaze darted from my face to Gide
on’s and them down to our joined hands. “What about all the purchases of women’s clothes and makeup?”
I bit down on my lip, finally understanding why the woman was so hostile. Gideon spent a lot on luxuries, and she probably thought I was draining him dry.
“They’re for me. I’m…” He gulped a mouthful of water, and I squeezed his hand. “I wear those things, and that man over there is my boyfriend.”
Dr. Adewale’s gaze darted to where Lachlan sat with a hand raised. She placed a hand on her chest and exhaled a long sigh. “Thank almighty God. I thought we would be stuck with an unsuitable daughter-in-law.”
“Mother!” Gideon snarled.
I placed a hand on his shoulder. There was no need to upset the woman on my account. “Now that the truth is out, I’ll give you the chance to meet Lachlan. I hope you enjoy the lunch.”
Gideon’s father stared at me with his lips parted. I got the impression he would prefer a daughter-in-law like me over a son-in-law, but I didn’t stick around to listen to the fall out. After folding my napkin on the table and saying my nice-to-meet-yous, I thanked him for lunch and strode toward the hallway.
Footsteps hurried after me. I turned to find Gideon a few feet away, his features stricken.
“Lilah, I’m so sorry.” Gideon’s voice was hoarse with emotion. “Please let me take you back to the academy.”
I placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. It took a lot of guts to come out like that. You’ve got to stay for the conversation with Lachlan.”
Gideon’s brows drew together, and his gaze darted toward the restaurant, where Mr. Adewale stood eye to eye with Lachlan.
“Go.” I turned him around. “It looks like he needs your help.”
His throat bobbed up and down. “Sorry.”
I hurried down the hallway, and didn’t look back in case he was thinking of chasing after me. As far as meet-the-parents went, this was tame compared to what Kendrick had to endure at Billy Hancock’s house.
At the reception, I refused the women’s offers for a cab, saying that I would call an Uber. Right now, I needed a brisk walk and some fresh air.
The hotel’s grounds were lush, even for a winter’s afternoon, and I walked along a gravel path lined with tall conifers packed so tightly that I could only catch glimpses of someone moving behind them.
Every hair on the back of my neck stood to attention. Someone was following me. Just as I turned back toward the hotel’s reception, a large hand wrapped around my mouth, muffling my yelp.
A needle pierced my neck, filling my veins with freezing liquid.
My heart thundered, and sweat broke out across my brow. I struggled against my attacker with every ounce of my fading strength, but he held me in place until I lost consciousness.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Stale air tickled my nostrils, making me sneeze, and cool air swirled around my bare skin, which prickled into goosebumps.
I awoke lying on my front with my shoulders wrenched back, my tied wrists resting on my bare ass, and the heels of my bent legs resting on my hands. Whoever had snatched me from the hotel’s grounds had also stuffed a ball gag in my mouth attached by leather straps that wrapped around my head.
My eyes snapped up, and light streaming in from an arched window ahead illuminated the diagonal beams of an attic made of dark wood. Loose planks ran beneath my body, stretching over raised floor joists. I turned onto my side and groaned.
Tight ropes cut into my skin from where my abductor secured me around my shoulders, beneath my breasts, around my waist and thighs and ankles. I tried straightening my legs, but the rope around my shoulders pulled.
Despair washed through my veins like acid. I was wholly and utterly trapped.
A scream tore from my throat but caught the gag, escaping my noise in a muffled sound quieter than the wind. The lump in my throat convulsed in sync with my pulse, and a sour taste spread across my mouth. Heat built up behind my eyes but I squeezed them shut and forced myself to think. If I gave into helplessness, I may as well hand them the gun and order them to shoot.
I shunted around over the floorboards, taking in the rest of my surroundings. The space was about the size of the academy’s dining room, and at the far end stood dozens of old-fashioned leather cases, some looking like miniature steam trunks.
It was too small to be the academy or the Liddell’s home on the grounds. I doubted we were in the hotel because someone would have noticed a strange man carrying an unconscious girl. Judging from the time of day, I was still in Scotland.
My mind raced ahead with an answer, screaming that the Liddells had discovered that I knew the terrible secret they’d been hiding all these years, the secret so damaging they were willing to make the world think that Mr. Burgh was my father. I forced my eyes closed and thought through my options.
Elizabeth was as strong as a gorilla and powered by insanity, but we were the same height. After all the shit she pulled recently, I doubted that she could convince a man to abduct me, even if she stripped me naked herself.
Cameron Liddell? I hadn’t seen him since he’d threatened me in the hospital, but a man capable of authorizing a bogus police raid was capable of anything.
A door creaked open, and panic sliced through my speculations like a blade in the heart.
Footfalls creaked against the old wood, and echoes built up with every step. I shuffled on my side and jerked away from the source of the sound, knowing the effort would be futile. Splinters pierced my skin, but what did it matter if I was about to die?
“Look at you,” said a male voice. “Writhing around in the dirt.”
Rough hands threaded into my hair, rolled me onto my back, and raised my head to meet the manic eyes of Father Neapolitan.
He crouched in front of me, clad in a Matrix-style overcoat that splayed out at the crotch. The fabric draped behind his bare legs exposing an erection the size of my thumb hanging loose from a hairless crotch. Revulsion seized my insides. Of course the perverted rapist would be aroused. Look at how he’d stripped me and trussed my body like something out of a snuff movie.
“Slut,” he hissed. “A whore just like your mother.”
I tried shaking my head, but the grip he had on my hair was too tight.
“I’m going to prove to you right now that you’re not my daughter.”
My heart skipped and I made a muffled sound from my nose.
“What?” he hissed.
I drew my brows together, flicked my eyes down to the gag, hoping he wasn’t too far gone in his insanity to notice I couldn’t speak.
Father Neapolitan released my hair, letting my head flop down to the plank. He stood over my shoulders and unbuckled the straps securing the gag around my head. As soon as the rubber fell loose, I retched onto the planks.
With a yelp, he skittered back. “Filthy beast.”
My stomach spasmed, and a groan reverberated from deep in my throat. I prayed to every deity I knew to keep me making those sounds. The sour contents of my stomach spilled from my lips, and acid burned the back of my throat.
“What did you want to say?” he snapped.
“You’re not…” I said between retching. “My father.”
“Of course, I’m not.”
Father Neapolitan stood against the wall for several moments, peering at me as though I was an interesting slug.
“Why would you say I’m not your father?” His voice was tight with suspicion.
“There was a DNA test,” I rasped. “You’re just an uncle.”
“What are you talking about?”
I didn’t dare mention my phone. The recording I made the night before was in its memory, backed up on the cloud, and sent to a bunch of emails in case someone decided to hack into my handset and delete it. Instead, I told him about how the archbishop had drugged and raped her when she turned to him for help.
“Lies!” Father Neapolitan stomped across the attic and turned me onto my side.
&
nbsp; “Why else was the archbishop so keen for you to take responsibility? It was to hide what he did.”
His nostrils flared. “Impossible.”
“Someone told me you had to sign away your right to the title and fortune of Lord Liddell.”
“How do you know that?” He leaned close, bringing that awful penis a foot away from my mouth.
Ignoring my lurching stomach, I stuttered, “Did you sign it in exchange for the archbishop covering up what happened between you and Abigail?”
His eyes flashed. “She wanted it.”
I didn’t comment. The man was so insane, he probably thought that I’d somehow asked for all this, too. Emotions warred across Father Neapolitan’s face. Loathing, lust, and a reluctance to believe my words. Beneath that was a narrowing of the eyes, a cold calculation that couldn’t deny what I was saying might be true.
“How do I know what you’re telling me is the truth?” he said.
“I’m not your daughter,” I replied.
“True.”
I gulped. “Then who else could have been my father?”
“Mr. Burgh.”
A hot rush of anger seared my veins. Right now, I wanted to hurl him out of the window. “He isn’t.”
Father Neapolitan threw his head back and laughed with a cawing sound that made my flesh crawl. He stared down at me with his teeth bared and then backhanded me across the face.
My head snapped back at the impact, and pain radiated across my cheek. No amount of reasoning would turn this man against the Liddells. He hated Mother and me too much to care that they stole his birthright. As Mother lived under the protection of Billy Hancock, I would be a suitable replacement to slake his anger.
“Do you know what we do to lying whores?” he snarled.
“What’s wrong with you?” I snarled back. “Can’t get a girl unless she’s drugged and tied up?”
He pulled back his fist, making me flinch. “A girl like you should be used to accommodating a man.”
This was my opportunity. Playing up to the hand-cock rumors might be my way to freedom. I raised my chin and dropped my gaze to the wretched organ protruding from between his legs. A tight, pale foreskin strained against a lumpy erection, leaving an opening barely large enough for his slit.
