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“Hey, kiddo, I wasn’t sure you’d answer, not after…” He didn’t need to finish his sentence. They both knew why he was here, and why he feared being turned away. But she wasn’t angry with him. How could she be? She stepped aside, blowing the loose strands of hair from her face as she granted him entry.
“I’m doing the interview.” She maintained a firm tone, unwavering despite the cold fear as she stepped into her slippers and walked through to the kitchen, flicking the kettle on, before grabbing a mug from the cabinet.
Sliding the coffee maker’s drawer open, she grabbed a pod, hitting the button to send the coffee machine whirring into life. He’d visited enough for her to know his preference. In fact, she brought these pods in especially for him, knowing it was his preferred brand.
He followed on her heels. “I’m proud of you, kiddo. I’m sorry for Evelyn, there’s no excuse for her behaviour. I was hoping to ask one favour though.”
“I’ll leave her out of it. I wouldn’t hurt Miles that way.” She shook her head. There was no way she’d dream of letting the press drag Mrs Taylor’s name through the mud. They’d love a scandal, love hounding her about her harassment of her son’s fiancée. It would be what she deserved, a fair response to the things she’d done, but it wasn’t just Mrs Taylor who’d get caught in the backlash. Besides, Ivy couldn’t do that, she couldn’t deliberately hurt someone that way. Even if they did deserve it.
“Thank you, but no, that’s not the favour.” Ivy placed the mug of steaming coffee on the counter next to him. Picking it up, he placing a key in its place. “After the interview, I want you to stay here until the wedding.” He tapped the counter by the key. “It’s one of my safe houses for when we have special guests. The building security is second to none. When your story hits, it’s going to be a circus out there. But more than that, I don’t want my wife showing up on your doorstep. I don’t want her near you.
“I’m so sorry, kiddo, for what she did. I can assure you, she won’t be leaking anything else, but that doesn’t mean she won’t turn up at your door. I don’t want you here if she does. She wasn’t always like this, you know.”
Making his way towards the dining room table, he reached into his wallet, pulling out a photograph. His gaze lingered on it for a long moment, a wistful gleam in his eyes as a soft smile turned his lips. After a moment, he placed it on the dining room table.
“What happened?” Ivy studied the photo. The woman in it looked so different to the prim and proper person she’d met. She looked happy. A young boy she recognised as Miles was held in the kind of embrace that just screamed of love. It took Ivy a while to see it, the way her hand rest on the smallest swell of her stomach in a way that betrayed her condition. Mrs Taylor’s eyes shone with happiness. Not dead, not soulless, or looking down on anyone who stood before, they were filled with so much joy that it transformed the very air around her. It was hard to align the two women, so contrasting, so different.
“She was four months pregnant. We’d been trying since Miles turned two for another child. We thought it would be good for him to have a sibling. Evie always wanted a big family. She was an amazing mother, and a loving wife, but that all changed about three years before you turned up.
“It was a tourist, British. He suffered a stroke behind the wheel and ran right into her car. She was rushed into surgery. They tried everything they could, but our baby died, along with any hopes of us having another child.” Ivy saw him tear up, his fingers tracing the picture of the woman he loved. Her hand, by instinct, found the top of his, giving the gentlest squeeze. “Miles never knew. I mean, he knew his mom had been in an accident. He didn’t know what we lost that day.
“She never got over it. Some parents who go through this hold their child closer. She pulled away from both of us, became distant, started going to those brunch meetings. I thought other women would be good for her, give her the support a man, a husband, couldn’t. Instead, she grew more distant and withdrawn. Her sneakers were switched for brands, her ponytail for manicures. Before I knew what was happening, she’d become someone I didn’t recognise.
“I thought one day, she’d, I don’t know, snap out of it. Remember that she still had one child who loved her, a husband who’d do anything to see her happy. But she was never the same. She lost more than our baby that day. She lost herself.”
There was a long silence as he slipped his hand from hers with a pained smile and sipped his drink. “Then this English girl turned up in her son’s life. It was never about your father. Every time she saw you, heard your accent, she was reminded about what she’d lost. She’d already lost one child, she wasn’t going to lose another.
“It’s no excuse. There’s no excuse for her behaviour, for the things she’s done. I’ve watched her grow more frustrated as the wedding got closer, but I had no idea what she was doing, or how she was treating you. She disappeared right after we argued. I’m worried she’s going to do something stupid. I just need you safe.” It was clear she wasn’t the only one who thought Mrs Taylor was somehow responsible for those notes. All of them telling her Miles was not for her, that she wasn’t good enough. She should have realised it sooner.
“Why?” Why would he go to such measures for her?
“Indulge me for wanting to protect my only child.”
“But I’m not your child.”
“No, but you’re his world. You’re his sun. His happiness revolves around you. It always has. It just took him too long to realise what everyone else could see as clear as day. Evie knew you’d take her boy away from her one day, and she just couldn’t let him go. Even though she’d pulled away, and stopped being the mother he remembered, she still wants to protect him. She just doesn’t realise that her actions are doing the opposite.”
Ivy rotated the key on the keyring, sitting in silence for several long moments while Mister Taylor drank his coffee. That was another thing she liked about this man. He knew when silence spoke more than words; when peace and inner reflection were needed.
The story he’d told helped her align some things. The woman Miles had spoken of was not the bitter woman she had met, but loss had a way of changing a person. But that was still no excuse for all she’d done.
She’d tried to destroy her life. She tried to drive a wedge between her and Miles, make her feel inferior, sullied, unworthy. Every time she’d started to regain her confidence, Mrs Taylor had been there to try and tear it down with her barbed comments.
The fact Mister Taylor sat here now, wanting to put her in a safe house, spoke volumes about the woman’s mental state. Ivy hadn’t spoken much to her, but she’d never felt unsafe. She wanted to question if this woman was really a danger to her, but she already knew the answer. She had leaked photos, threatened to release others, left those notes, and had her car vandalised. There was no question she was a danger.
“Okay,” she whispered with a sigh. There were benefits to people not knowing where to find her, especially when her story was finally told. She glanced at her watch as it vibrated on her wrist. The small display scrolled to show Miss Barnski querying via text if ten minutes would be convenient. “Excuse me for one second.” Ivy tugged her phone from her pocket and sent a quick reply. “I’m just confirming the interview time.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. I feel like this is something I have to do alone.” Mister Taylor already knew most of the details. He’d seen the footage from the events held for the ship’s crew and people invited aboard, so while he didn’t know all the details, he’d seen some of the depraved things she’d been forced to do. The thought shamed her. It should have made her feel awkward, knowing he’d seen her like that. But the thing about Mister Taylor was she didn’t. She felt safe and protected. Grateful.
“I’ll have a car waiting for you. Sparky will drive you to the safe house. He’ll stay close. And your security detail will be in the room adjacent. The entire floor is secure. There are four rooms on the floor, three of which will be in use. The fourth is a panic room, accessible from your room. Sparky will walk you through the ins and outs. I wanted Matthews to stay with you, but she’s away on an assignment. Sparky’s the only one in the area you know and trust.”
The sound of a bell chiming alerted Ivy to a call from the desk. Excusing herself, she moved to the handset by the door, lifting it just as a text came through from her security detail. She listened as the desk confirmed her visitor’s identity and requested they send her up. Oh wow, that was quicker than she expected when the reporter had said she’d make her way over.
An ice-cold flood of fear washed over her.
Mister Taylor grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, hooking it over his arm as he approached. “I’ll check in on you later, kiddo.” He paused by the door. “Oh, one more thing.” He reached into his jacket, pulling a silver bracelet from the inside pocket. “Something borrowed. May I?” He took her hand in his, waiting for permission. She nodded, speechless. He fastened the bracelet with ease. His fingertips carefully avoiding her scars. “I’ll check in on you later,” he repeated, “once you’re settled.” With a reassuring squeeze of her shoulder, he left, just moments before Miss Barnski arrived. Thinking about it, they’d probably passed each other near the elevator.
