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“Becca I—”
“Psh, less talking, more mopping. I can’t believe you wore mascara. Seriously, Vee. Blot, or I’m going to have to wrap your head in gauze or something, and knowing you, your kinky ass’d probably like it. Then I’d need to find a way to tell Tails his bride’s running away with me. Now stop those waterworks. I need two minutes to make a few more minor alterations and then I’ll save this dress from the walking disaster that is you. You just stand there looking stunning. I’ll do the rest.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Miles pushed a hand through his hair with a sigh. While Ivy was out with Becca, he was taking the opportunity to assemble a few of his security team and get updates about the letters being left for her.
From the moment he saw that first letter mingled in with their post, he’d known something was wrong. He was trained to recognise danger, and his gut had screamed at him when he’d seen that printed envelope.
He wouldn’t normally open things addressed to her, but it was just her name, no address, nothing. He was trained to trust his instincts, and he was glad he had. The last thing she’d needed after that article had run, was this.
He hadn’t mentioned them to her. Maybe he should have, but there was no need to add more stress. He’d just increased her security detail, and aside from more letters, whoever it was hadn’t escalated. If it looked for one second like she was in danger, he’d let her know. But they weren’t threats. They were misguided statements about her worth.
It had started a little after that godforsaken article had run in the paper. Printed letters, standard ink, and one-line messages with no fingerprints or trace evidence.
Whoever was doing this knew how to keep it clean, keep themselves from sight.
“So what do we make of the latest string of letters?” he asked, scrolling through the images on the phone.
“It’s definitely someone unhappy about your upcoming wedding. The way they keep referencing her not being worthy, warning her…” the unassuming looking man who was handling these incidents scrolled through the pictures stopping at the one he sought, “that, ‘you were never right for him.’ And ‘He should have been mine.’ all suggest someone who’s fixated on you. Has anyone new come into your life, anyone you know who’s less than happy with your upcoming marriage?”
And that right there was the problem. There was no one new, and everyone had been thrilled at the news he and Ivy were getting married, many of them commenting it was about damn time. There was only one person who’d made their passionate anti-Ivy campaign and that was, “My mother.”
Resting his elbows on his desk, Miles pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. Wracking his brain for an out-of-place face, or a friendly touch that hadn’t felt quite right. But his mind drew a blank.
These were all questions he’d been asked before. He had a great working relationship with everyone. He tried to recall those who hung back in the shadows, but he’d always made it his business to talk to everyone. No one stood out as suspicious. But that didn’t mean anything. Plenty of stalkers appeared innocent enough at first glance. He’d foiled his fair share of them when protecting his clients. Which was why he knew what to look for, why it was so damn frustrating. Just like nothing had rung alarm bells when Ivy had been abducted.
“Where was the last letter found?” Whoever it was that had left them seemed to know more than he liked. They’d left one on her car, resulting in him making her change the bay she parked in, for what good it would do, but there was better CCTV there at least. Another was pushed under the door. The latest one had been a folded note he’d found poking out of her coat pocket after she’d come in from her session with Devon.
He’d recognised the paper, and slipped it from her pocket after he’d hung the coat. To think someone had gotten that close and not been seen, or flagged by the team, made his skin bristle.
He was just glad she hadn’t seen them. It was one more stress she could do without. He had a small team working on it, watching her. Extra security cameras had been installed, but they’d still managed to evade detection.
“In her pocket. Someone got that close,” Miles answered, shaking his head.
“What’s she said? Has anyone approached her?”
“There’s been no one hanging around. I keep switching the security team so if someone is watching, they don’t recognise their faces.” He knew Ivy thought it was because she was being friendly, getting familiar with them. It made sense not to correct her assumption.
“We’ve been doing background checks on anyone you’ve had contact with in the past, but to be honest, in your line of work, you never know when you may have caught someone’s eye. Have you had any messages yourself?”
“Nothing.” It’d be easier if he had, that would mean their focus had switched to him. That he could handle, but her being in danger, being the target of some unknown threat, hit too close to home. He needed to protect her, he couldn’t fail her, not again.
“Right, we’ll keep looking into it. Have you still got that tracker on her phone?”
“Yes.” Just as she had the same app to track his movements. It gave them both peace of mind.
“We’ll update the software to see if we can capture the ids of anyone coming close to her.”
“We need to figure out the endgame of whoever’s doing this. In the meantime, pull up CCTV from her walk home yesterday, compare that with body-cam footage of the security detail. Let’s see if we can get anything from any angle there,” Miles commanded, pushing the pen on his desk so it sat level with the paper he’d been making notes on.
“Already on it. We’re trying to identify everyone who had physical or close contact with her and we’ll pay them a visit.”
It was almost impossible to believe how much Ivy got jostled during a normal walk down a street. It was almost as if people failed to see her, making a beeline for her path, bumping her, stepping before her. It happened all the time, except when she was on his arm. It was something he’d never understood. She was a beautiful woman, and not just to him, but somehow, it was as though no one saw her.
“Okay, keep me updated. We need to figure out what we’re dealing with.” Hopefully before she realised something was amiss, or worse found one of those notes herself. The last thing he wanted was her jumping at shadows and once more questioning her worth.
Ivy spent the rest of the morning walking on air. After another hour, Becca had kicked her out of the shop, saying that, with such a short time before the wedding, she needed to start work on the alterations. She didn’t so much walk home as glide through Central Park. There was nothing that could dampen her mood.
