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And as predicted, all she’s got with her is a backpack slung over her shoulder. Her gaze falls on Clarence, standing there grinning like a muppet up at her. They’re talking, and her face instantly darkens to a scowl. She glances around, but she doesn’t see me here. She won’t.
Their talking gets more animated. He’s opening his briefcase and waving the contract at her. She’s flipping him off and yelling something. Clarence is cowering as she storms down the steps towards him, which is almost amusing, except it means this plan is being ripped to shreds in front of me.
Part of me wants to go over there myself and just make this happen. But a larger part of me knows if she sees me here, she’ll run and never look back.
A taxi suddenly pulls up near the steps.
My jaw grits.
Sign it. Just fucking sign it, you goddamn stubborn little girl.
I watch as she snatches the contract from Clarences hands, yells something at him furiously, and then rips the bloody thing in half.
Fuck.
I almost run over. I almost go over there, even if it means slinging her over my fucking shoulder and dragging her kicking and scratching back to London.
But I don’t.
I watch her kick at the shreds of paper, yank the taxi door open, and slip inside.
Then she’s gone, and I’ve truly failed my best friend.
Present:
I standat the windows of my home office, glaring out at the gardens as I rehash the mistakes I’ve made. The paths I’ve chosen—for myself, and for others.
The things I’ve done, because they had to be done.
I exhale, bringing the glass of scotch to my lips and drinking slowly. At least I know where she is. Not like those years between leaving Hemlock and outing herself by taking a shot at my company where she was flat out missing.
And her redhaired friend might be a crude, annoying, brassy little thing. But she’s fierce. She’ll protect Ella.
So will five men I have permanently shadowing her now.
Now, it’s a waiting game, to see if she’ll actually be able to bite back her stubbornness and blind hatred for me long enough tonotgo to prison.
My eyes narrow. The list of my enemies is long. But the list of those with the power to put something like this into play is far shorter. In fact, there’s just one fucking name on it.
By now, I’ve seen the security footage of Prince following her into the fucking ladies room. I’ve seen the footage of him leaving with a smug look on his face, her following after with murder on hers, that bloody file-folder in her hands.
He put together a perfect little narrative to fit every single one of her darkest suspicions. And he used it to galvanize and radicalize her. He used it to weaponize her pain and anger, and got it aimed at me.
Now, he’s using her again. This time, to try and hurt me in other ways.
My teeth grind. And so we go, from rivals, to deadly enemies.
Let the war begin, Prince.
There’s a quick knock at the door.
“Enter.”
Liam steps inside with a curt nod and a grim look that gets my hackles up.
“You’ve been digging.”
“I have,” he growls, his brow furrowing. “Oliverdidfly to Italy earlier the day of the fire. I pulled a copy of the actual plane manifest, which is stamped with all of the official government seals.”
