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“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.
