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Chills.
They jump onto every inch of my skin as I stare at the label, swallowing hard.
Chapoutier Ermitage l’Ermite Blanc.
I set my glass down with a shaky hand, the wine I’ve always hated feeling like it’s burning its way down my throat. I step back, continuing to stare at it, like it might speak up and offer me the perfectly reasonable explanation I’m hunting for. There is no explanation. There’s only memories of Jarrad’s insistence that this particular, outrageously expensive wine be served wherever we were.
One more step back. The chills sink past my skin and reach my veins, and I swallow, not anticipating my stomach to turn at the exact same time. My coughs come on thick and fast, choking me, and I run to the bathroom, smacking my shoulder on the doorframe in my haste to make it to the toilet in time. I throw myself over the bowl and bring up a mixture of bile and acidic liquid, my throat burning, my retches violent and uncontrollable. My eyes water, my body goes into spasm. I’ve lost control of every muscle and limb.
I fight to pull it together, reaching for a towel and bringing it to my mouth to wipe. ‘No, Hannah.’ I slam my fist on the edge of the sink, my freak-out stalling me from thinking clearly. I breathe in deep, let it out, in deep, and let it out. I’m just having a moment. Freaking out over nothing. I can’t let Ryan see me like this again, over something so stupid.
I will my shakes away, bracing my hands on the edge of the sink and breathing my way through it. My imagination is running away with me. It has been all day. Ryan could have bought that wine. Just a coincidence. Surely?
I hear my mobile phone, and any progress I’d made on settling my nerves disappears. I edge toward the door tentatively, looking at the nightstand where Ryan left it. My phone glows, the ring seeming shrill, almost like a warning. Ignore it. And then what? Wonder who it was? Wonder if it was him? I can’t go on like this. A prisoner to my fear.
I take slow, cautious steps toward my phone.Chapter 29RYAN
The motion of the hammock swinging is enough to send me into a trance. The beer is good. The quiet is good. Until it’s no longer quiet. My mobile rings in my pocket, but I’ll be damned if I can move my tired arse to retrieve it. It rings off, but immediately starts again. I groan and lift myself a bit to reach for it, sliding it out and spinning it the right way up to see the screen. ‘Luce,’ I mumble, relaxing back into my hammock as I answer. ‘It’s been a long day. Are you going to make it longer?’
‘You asked me to keep an eye on Knight.’
I’m frozen still in a nanosecond. I don’t like the sound of this. ‘And?’
‘And he’s apparently taken a leave of absence from his empire due to exhaustion. Jarrad Knight doesn’t seem to be the kind of man who would take a leave of absence, especially because of exhaustion. The guy is propped up on cocaine and power.’
‘I agree. So where is he?’
‘In between his London penthouse and Scotland. His pregnant wife, however, has joined her family in Prague while he recuperates. I mean, it’s all a bit strange. If my husband—’
‘Scotland?’ I ask, pushing my way up from my hammock and sitting on the edge. ‘You said Scotland.’
‘Yeah, Scotland. He bought a derelict castle there a few years ago. Spent millions renovating it.’
My bottle of beer starts to shake in my hand. ‘Hannah’s been sending paintings to Scotland,’ I say mindlessly.
‘What?’ Lucinda sounds as confused as I would expect.
‘Hannah. She’s sold a few pieces to a man who owns a castle in Scotland.’
‘Are you joking me?’
‘No.’ I stand and start pacing to the cabin. ‘He sent her flowers today. What else do you know?’
‘Well, for a man who’s apparently emotionally exhausted, Knight’s been a busy boy. He recently spent a small fortune at a private auction.’
‘On what?’
‘A rather spectacular one-of-a-kind, very rare heart-shaped yellow diamond ring.’
‘Fuck, no.’ I throw my beer to the ground and break into a sprint, running like a man possessed.Chapter 30HANNAH
I don’t recognize the number on the screen and it turns my blood to ice. I reach for my phone with trembling hands and answer, though I don’t speak. And neither does the caller, leaving a stretched silence between us.
‘Hello?’ I somehow find the courage to say.
‘Hannah?’ The voice nearly makes me throw up again, but this time it’s in relief.
‘Molly?’
‘Yes, are you okay? I found the flowers Ryan bought you on the street.’
‘I’m fine,’ I assure her. ‘I came over a bit funny. Dropped them. Ryan’s brought me back to his cabin to lie down.’
