I was safe.
“Shit.You’re trembling, baby. Fucking freezing,” Curtis blurted.
He picked up the blanket that had been carelessly discarded and enveloped me within. I stared up at my childhood best friend and felt my inner ice beginning to thaw as he rubbed over my shoulders and down my arms in rhythmic strokes to generate heat.Ah, this is what it feels like to be warm. I forgot.
I didn’t know when he had started calling mebaby,but I didn’t have the strength to tell him to stop.I liked it, the endearment fitting and somehow natural.
“You okay, Stells?”
I pitched my forehead to his chest, breathing deeply for the first time in a long time.
“I am now.”
Chapter 17
FELIX
The fresh air didn’t help my irate mood.
Three nights in a jail cell with no shower and peasant food would do that to you.
My anniversary night had begun in utter bliss—until those assholes stole me away to wallow and fester in that cesspit of degenerates.
My mind and body were screaming out for sleep, but there was no way I was going to let my guard down. I was told that those lazy motherfuckers in court didn’t like to work over the weekend, so I had to wait until Monday for the judge to decide bail, despite there being an innocent man rotting in their basement.
For what charges, you might ask? Embezzlement—from my own company.How fucking idiotic.
No matter what I said, yelled or promised, it still didn’t stop them from taking my fingerprints and locking up my belongings.They even had the audacity to question me like I was some uneducated brute who couldn’t rub two brain cells together.
Of course, I kept quiet, requesting to see a lawyer. Sure, it was strategic, but I couldn’t get in touch with Stella or anyone from the company.
I knew she would be worried, working overtime to fight for me.That’s why I haven’t heard from her, right?
So why isn’t she answering my calls now that I am released?
I hailed a cab and aimed for Stella Financial Management, knowing my wife would be at the office on a Monday afternoon. There was no way she would let the company lag under those false and baseless accusations.
On the ride over, I tried logging into my emails, internet banking and work database. All access was denied, as if everything had justdisappeared.
That was when I knew something had gone terribly wrong, which caused a subtle panic to sink into the edge of my awareness.
When I arrived outside the main entrance, I went to pay, and my card bounced. I huffed in frustration, chucking a $50 note at the driver before I bolted through the front door and up the elevator.
Find Stella. Find Stella.
I stormed through the corridors like a bellowing hurricane. The mindless sycophants avoided my gaze, while some deserted altogether.
No one wanted to be in the path of my ire.
“Where’s Stella?” I barked to one of the faceless plebs, who confirmed my wife was in an important board meeting.
I beelined for the main conference room, armed and ready. Little did I know, I was woefully unprepared for the opposition.
As I entered the sparse rectangular room, conversation immediately ceased as all board members swept their attention towards me.
Stella was sitting at the head of the conference table, looking fresh and polished—the utmost professional. Tailored pantsuit, hard, unrelenting mask, stiletto heels that were sharp enough to cut me to the core.
“Ah, he’s arrived. Clear the room,” she said in an unbothered tone, leaning back in her chair like she owned the place.
