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“We will never be over, Arabella. In the end it’ll always be me that wins. I’ll kill every fucker that goes near you. You’d do well to remember that next time you let another man touch what’s mine.”
Neither of us moves. The threat settles into the autumn air around us. My heartbeat is pounding so hard in my veins that I’m having trouble hearing my own thoughts.
“Goodbye, Christopher.”
All I can do not to fall apart in front of him is walk away.
Chapter 6
Christopher
I let her go, but I’m not giving up. She can think it’s too late or not enough or whatever other fucking lie she’s telling herself. But I won’t stop until she begs me to take her back.
That was the second time she walked away from me. And as much as I love Arabella, I’ll make her regret every step she took.
“Are you fucking listening?” Freddie chucks his burger wrapper across the dining table of my hotel suite, getting me right on the head.
“Yeah.”
Scrolling through the report on his MacBook, I try to find a reason as to why Arabella would be remotely interested in the Russian from the club. But there’s nothing.
There’s fuck all beyond the fact that they looked pretty fucking cosy.
I think it was easier when I had no idea where she was. How she was. Or what the fuck she was doing. All I can think right now is that she’s fucking some rich cunt who only wants to get his dick wet.
“There has to be more.” Standing, I grab another bottle of water from the sideboard, as I hash and rehash all the information Freddie managed to get and our conversation outside the club.
None of it helps. Now that I’ve run through our talk over and over, I wish I’d made her answer all my questions. I’m a fucking barrister—my job is to interrogate people in court, to get answers, manipulate them into telling me things they don’t even realise they’ve spoken until they’re out in the open. And I couldn’t get my wife to give me one straight answer.
What a fucking joke.
“More what?” Putting his feet up on the table, Freddie looks at me like I’m being a moron.
“More information. More answers. I don’t know!”
“That’s all I could find, but you know what’s interesting? For a rich guy that is so well acquainted with the British Foreign Secretary, there’s fuck all political links. Not even in his own country. No one is that clean, not unless they have someone cleaning up after them.”
“We need to find out more.”
“Yeah, Leo sent me the list. I’m on it, but there are almost five hundred names on there. It’s going to take time, and I have a bank app to kit out.” Taking a deep breath, he leans back on his chair. His weight creaking the antique wood. “You need to put someone on Arabella. Every move she makes. Every place she goes.”
“I have.”
“You have?” He looks baffled at me. “You know where she’s staying?”
“I got Murphy to wait outside the club until she showed up again.”
It didn’t take her as long as I thought it would. It was a couple of days before she was back and the Russian with her.
“Are you fucking serious? He almost got her killed. And the ba—”
“Freddie! It wasn’t his fault. If I hadn’t told him to keep his distance…” I try to swallow down the tightness in my chest.
“His job was to guard you; he failed. He cost you…Christopher!”
“No. I failed. I should’ve never asked him to walk so far behind us. Fuck, I should’ve known better than to take her out in the open like that.” Walking through to the sitting area, I try to clear my head.
Every fucking memory from that night is so clear and vivid that it feels like the here and now.
