AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Monica seemed obsessed with him. As obsessed with him as Owner had been with her. A shiver ran through her. All this time she’d thought the notes Miles had tried to keep from her had been about him, were from someone saying she didn’t deserve him. But it wasn’t, it was Monica, talking about Owner.
She was fixated on him, which also meant when she discovered Mrs Taylor had been sending the photos, not him, she would feel the wrath of a woman scorned, feel the fury fuelled by disappointment.
After her subtle revelation, Miles and Mr Taylor dashed out of the hotel at a speed that would have put The Flash to shame. They’d been gone for hours. Long enough for the registrar to begin worrying about his next booking.
Ivy dismissed him early, relieving him of his burden. Now was not the time to think about getting married, not when her mind was overflowing with fear for a woman who held nothing but hatred for her.
Slipping on her jeans and soft, woollen jumper, Ivy slipped downstairs, announcing the wedding was postponed, before returning to her room. She thought it would be difficult, that she’d be fighting back the tears, but instead, even as she made the announcement, her gut had knotted with worry over Mrs Taylor.
“You know, I would have done that for you. Anyone would have.” Becca pushed a glass into her hand. Now she was back in the room, and she’d officially told people the wedding was off, so many emotions washed over her. Disappointment, grief, concern, and finally the realisation that just hours ago she’d been held at gunpoint.
Ivy shook her head, fighting back the tears that threatened, not trusting her voice for a moment. “No, it was my place. My guests.” She took a slow breath, taking comfort in the way Becca’s hand rested on her shoulder, transferring strength and warmth.
“Well, at least the hotel is yours for the next few days. Something tells me that open bar may come in handy.”
They had booked the entire hotel for the wedding party, knowing some of their guests would have to travel to be there. By open bar, Becca actually meant the guests were all on a fully inclusive package. Food, drink, even access to the spa was included.
“Yeah,” she muttered absentmindedly, worrying her bottom lip. “Don’t you think we should have heard something by now?” Dread and darkness haunted the periphery of every conversation, her mind flooded with concern, with questions. Was she hurt? Alive? Would they even find her? What if the whole ruse was a trap? What if she’d planned to lure Miles there, and rigged something so she’d have the perfect alibi?
Mister Taylor had been on the phone the moment Miles had filled him in, his top men working on tracking his wife. It hadn’t been easy for anyone to locate Ivy, no video footage, witness sightings, but Mrs Taylor was lucky, she wouldn’t stay lost for long. She glanced at the bracelet on her wrist, understanding now why Mr Taylor had really given it to her.
His wife had something similar. It had a small hidden tracker that only transmitted when a signal was sent to it. It was the easiest way to find her, assuming Monica hadn’t removed her jewellery.
“You’re too nice for your own good. That woman has been nothing but a vindictive bitch to you from the moment your paths first crossed, but you’re sitting here, having had a gun pulled on you by your abductor’s weird psychopath ex, having cancelled the wedding you’ve been dreaming about for years, and you’re worried about her? It beggars belief, honestly, Vee. This is what that old Battle-axe wanted. If it were you in trouble, she’d be fucking dancing in glee, not tying herself up in knots over it. You need to learn to turn it off, Vee.”
Ivy glanced around, a feeling of dread momentarily grasping her as she checked the electrical sockets, visions of smoke and flames overpowering her rational thoughts. Her mind was too bust, too many thoughts fighting for space. “Turn what off?”
“That heart of yours. You wear it on your sleeve, give it to undeserving scum, and let people walk all over it, and for what?” Becca’s hands were on her hips once more, her look would have been scolding, disapproving, if not for the softness in her expression.
Tears sprung to her eyes. She blinked them away quickly, turning her vision towards the ceiling in a bid to help, praying they went unnoticed. Today, of all days, this thought touched home. “Becca, do you have any idea what I’d give to have another day, even another minute, with my mum? With my dad? Do you know what I would give to have him walk me down the aisle, to see my mum standing there at the front, a wide grin on her face with an equally wide ostentatious-looking hat?” Ivy could see the picture as clear as day, with huge feathers, beads, bright colours, everything. And even though it was something she’d never had, she missed it deeply. Her mother had been kind and vibrant. She would have loved Becca. It was days like this, important moments and everyday charm, when she missed her parents the most.
“Mrs Taylor may be cruel. She may have done everything she could to get me out of Miles’ life, and I will never, never, forgive her for the part she played in what happened to me, but she’s still his mother, and for all the strife, vindictiveness, and head-butting, somewhere in that haughty, holier-than-thou vessel, is a woman who loves her son and just wants what’s best for him.”
“Nuh-uh.” One of Becca’s hands snapped from her hip, finger gesturing wildly like the diva she was. “If that woman wanted what was best for him, she’d have welcomed you with open arms. Anyone can see you’re what’s best for him, Vee.” A slight clearing of a throat at the door had Becca snap her gaze up, venom filling her eyes. “Oh, look what the snake spat up, just in time to ensure your day is ruined.” The glare Becca levelled would have given even the devil himself pause.
Ivy turned to see Miles and Mister Taylor at the door, between them, looking smaller than normal, stood Mrs Taylor.
“Can I have a minute?” she asked, making an effort to push her shoulders back, while her eyes remained somewhere south of Ivy’s.
“The fuck you can!” Becca positioned herself between Ivy and Mrs Taylor, arm outstretched forming the best barrier she could manage. “You got exactly what you wanted. So why don’t you turn that bitch-ass right around and—”
“It’s okay, Becca.” Ivy placed her hand on her best friend’s arm, pushing it down softly.
“Vee, you cannot be serious?”
“You know, I could do with someone checking on the guests, lunch will be served in just over an hour. Since everyone is here, and dressed up, there’s no reason we can’t sit down to a nice meal.” Ivy moved to hug Becca, wrapping her arms around her from behind. Sitting down to her wedding lunch was the last thing she wanted, all those eyes on her, questioning what she’d done to make Miles call everything off. Judgement, challenges, disgust, she saw it all echoed back in their faces as their whispers echoed, saying there was no way someone like Miles would marry someone as sullied as her.
The only people who knew why it had been cancelled were in this room, but there was no question the guests had seen Miles and his father leave with their security detail. She shivered at the thought of all those eyes upon her, their questions. Flames lapped at her cheeks at just the mental image. “I’ll be fine. I’ve already had a gun pulled on me. A barbed tongue is nothing compared to that.”
Becca let out a slight chuckle. “Alright then, and if they ask what happened?”
Ivy cast a glance towards Mrs Taylor. It was unlikely she’d want anyone to know. She remembered how it felt reliving her abduction over and over again with every new headline and photo. “We’ll come up with something before lunch.”
Great, she’d now have to spin a believable lie, but what was a good excuse for the groom and his father, along with a security detail to be seen leaving the church just after the reporter had been escorted out in handcuffs? “Oh, I know,” Ivy stopped Becca as she turned to leave. “Tell them Mrs Taylor was in a collision. They’ll have noticed her absence. They’d understand us not wanting to go ahead with the ceremony without her, and Miles and his father needed to make sure she was okay. As for the reporter, we’ll tell them the truth, she was attempting to blackmail me.” That not only explained the reporter, albeit at her own expense but would explain why Mister Taylor and Miles left in such a hurry too. It covered everything
“If you’re sure?” Becca eyed Mrs Taylor venomously. “You upset my girl, and you’ll find out exactly what it means to suffer.”
Becca turned, edging her way past the small crowd that seemed content to stand blocking the doorway. Ivy saw Miles grab Becca’s arm, whispering something in her ear. A hushed conversation was shared, continuing as he escorted her away down the hall. Mister Taylor hung back, dust coating the shoulders of his suit. He dusted himself down, assessing the room before his gaze fixed on Ivy. There was something in those brown shades that spoke to her soul, concern, love, and uncertainty.
