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Clarissa
Reflectionsofcarlightsagainst the window are the only movement in Leanne's apartment. Matthias went into the bedroom after he was sick, but I'm not sure I'm ready to join him.
The images of Patrick lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood haunts me, but more so, I know this isn't going to be good for Matthias.
If he's lucky and Patrick walks away from this, there's no way that he won't press charges, and any prosecutor with eyeballs is going to know they have a case. A young prosecutor looking to make an example out of the rich and privileged is going to go after this with everything have. And Matthias is certainly a good example of both.
He might think that he can talk his way out of this, but even a cat has only nine lives.
The stark reality that he would not even have been in this situation if he weren't trying to protect me is the hardest part of this. And now he's in so much trouble, I don't know if there's anything anyone can do.
There are no answers.
But if this last year has taught me anything, nothing comes from doing nothing.
He helped me, now I have to help him.
I pick up the phone, a grapefruit in my chest, knowing our time has come to an end. The phone is answered on the other side and the sound of his voice makes my stomach churn.
"Can we talk?"
***
Chapter 44
Matthias
Ittakesaboutfiveminutes before I realize the banging is at the door, and not just in my head. I roll over to see Clarissa rubbing her eyes, just as confused.
"Is that the door?" she asks, her voice adorably sleepy.
"No idea. I'll go have a look."
She grabs my arm. "No! It might not to be safe, you don't know what her neighbors are like."
I give her a gentle kiss as I roll out of Leanne's bed. "Actually, I do. I always make sure I double check my tenants before I let them rent one of my properties."
The banging becomes more insistent just as I reach the door. "It's the police. Open the door, Mr. Baxter," someone calls through the door.
Fuck.
The police?
"Matthias!" Clarissa hisses in a whisper behind me. "Don't open the door!"
"I have to Rissie, it's the police."
"But—"
I give her a reassuring nod. "It's okay, darling. What happens, we're going to work it out, okay?"
I reach for the handle and even before the door is fully open, the police barge into the apartment, pinning me around, slipping a pair of cuffs on my wrists.
"Matthias Baxter, you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent..."
"No!" Clarissa yells, trying to surge forward, but they hold her back. She cries trying to fight them. Her fear spears me all the way through, and I hate that she has to be here for this.
"It's okay, darling. Go to the office and call Hannah, tell her to call Kylian and Paula. They'll know what to do. And then go back to the apartment or the office. You'll be safe there. I can't worry about you, okay?" Someone swings me around and almost bangs my head against the door frame. "Hey, easy! I'm not fighting this. And I'd prefer it if my fiancée didn't have to watch me get hurt."
