Page 284 of Falling for the Wife

Ten minutes passed, and I dismissed the team because I simply couldn’t function with them giving me curious glances. The second they departed, I called Emily to the room.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the news,” she immediately said before closing the door behind her.

“Yes. I have, and I need your assistance to locate someone.” Where did I even start with this? I was thinking all sorts of things at such a speedy rate I could barely concentrate with the headache that was splitting my head in to two. “I need you to call Scotland Yard and do what you must to find her. Heck, if they’re all busy, given the alleged attacks today, hire an investigator or someone who can help me find her in the least amount of time. Is that understood?”

“Crystal.” She nodded before cocking her head to the side. “And who isshe,to be precise? I doubt anyone would take on the job with the description ofheralone, sir.”

“My wife!” I almost barked at her. What the hell was her problem? She needed to scram and call someone to help me find her.

“You’re married?”She looked perplexed. “I still need a name, though…” she continued when I didn’t respond to her, merely giving her a death stare.

“Ava Chambers … was Ava Westwood.”

My deadpanned tone made something click behind her mind before she frowned and gave me a curt nod. “I’ll get back to you after I have news.”

However, even Emily’s expert negotiating skills didn’t bring any news to fruition. Panic seized me more and more firmly the longer Ava’s phone remained unavailable.

Of all the things I had experienced in life, this was something I wasn’t accustomed to feeling. It left me a man of nerves, like my world was about to fall apart any moment, and I had no power to stop it. The saying “in God’s hands” made so much sense to me in that instant.

Left with no choice, I had to call the only other person who would know what to do—her father. I made the call and departed for the day, unable to concentrate on anything except Ava.

Driving home when the entire city was gripped by fear and panic wasn’t the best way to dampen the crippling terror that was growing inside me; therefore, it was a fortunate thing that the helicopter pilot was still in the building and was immediately ready to take me back to my home. I loved driving and rarely used this kind of transportation, but today, I felt helpless, as if my fate was in someone else’s hands—someone who had a sick humor and took great pleasure in smashing my world into smithereens.

The travel from the office to my home didn’t give me any inclination to peek at how grave it was down there. Because, if I did, I might not survive. Ava had declined offers of having her own car and driver because she was fond of taking cabs and walking about the city. And this was the downside of giving in to my wife’s wishes—leaving her in harm’s way. There was nothing I could do about it, either, other than wait until something came up.

Maybe the jammed traffic and people scattered about in a frantic state were all using their phones, trying to reach family and loved ones, which made it impossible to get ahold of her. She was probably somewhere safe, chatting up the cabbie as she worried about what was going on. Yes, she was safe …

God, she had better be safe, or I won’t ever forgive myself.

An hour later, I was back at the house, drinking scotch in the living room while awaiting Charles Watson’s arrival. It didn’t take long until Alistair announced his arrival, and what caught me by surprise was that he wasn’t alone. He had brought his wife with him.

“Charles,” I greeted him with a firm handshake before directing my gaze towards his other half. “Charlotte.”

The patronizing woman I had encountered two nights prior at the fundraiser had completely vanished. The Charlotte before me was an entire wreck, hysterically weeping as she mumbled what a horrible mother she’d been to her only child. Charles didn’t seem like he was faring well, either. He was attempting to comfort his wife, whispering assurances that all would be well, although his eyes mirrored my own, feeling gravelly glum as to where Ava might have been.

With our phones close to us, we vigilantly waited for Ava’s call in the living room, barely touching the snacks and hot tea that had been replaced several times since the first ones had been set before us, untouched.

Time trickled slowly, and as the night wore on, we were all in a state of numbness, evidently inconsolable as we tried to contact and reach the most powerful people we knew to help with our problem. Just as Emily had feared, however, the entire city was swamped and overwhelmed with locating bodies and investigating the terrorist attack. With everyone in a state of alarm, there was little to nothing to be done except wait.

Regardless, there was a gigantic problem when it came to waiting. I was capable of exercising patience, yet when it came to Ava, I had zero tolerance for delays. It left me at my wit’s end, unable to do much of anything. Even Charles, barking orders on his phone, did little to no good. Charlotte remained in hysterics and simply out of commission when it came to functioning. Though she wasn’t weeping like she had been earlier, her silences and staring off into space were giving me worry.

Yes, I was starting to worry about Charlotte Watson. The world definitely had gone mad. Even though the woman wasn’t throwing vile words in my direction, it didn’t mean she didn’t think of it, despite being in my home. I chose to look past that to the grief-stricken mother, and what I saw made me feel unexpectedly warmer toward her.

“Charlotte, is there something I can get for you to eat? You might need it if you plan to stay up late.” I sat across from her, plucking a piece of china from the nearby settee then placed small sandwiches on it that she might like. Setting the plate in front of her, I went on to pour her a cup of tea before glancing towards Charles. “Does she take milk and sugar?”

He shook his head, pausing from his constant state of pacing around the room. “No milk, no sugar, but do use honey,” he stated as if he was a robot before resuming his walkabout.

Pouring a teaspoon of honey, I stirred it slowly into the hot tea and then placed it next to the plate. “Please, we all need our energy if we must wait for news,” I pleaded with my voice, and with my eyes, because when I had said the wordnews, I couldn’t help shivering at what that entailed. It could be news about Ava’s whereabouts. News about Ava in the hospital and injured. Lastly …

No, there is nothing after that,I persisted as I tried to vanish the thought of death. The very word was chilling enough to consider; however, when it was used next to Ava, the very idea itself was distasteful. I wouldn’t have any of it. Life wasn’t that cruel to take her away in such a tragic method. Bad things didn’t happen to women like her. I had to reassure myself of that, or I might end up in a heap of hysterics like Charlotte.

Staring at the tea and plate I had set for her, she didn’t touch it until about ten minutes later as she whispered an almost inaudible “thank you.” I merely nodded, noting that she and I were shifting to a different level of understanding. We were here because of her daughter, and in that, she somehow had mellowed out, treating me as if I was a human being for the first time.

Another hour passed, and I was about to walk out the door and search the streets myself when I heard a loud thud coming from the main foyer.

“Alistair?” I called out, knowing the butler and the cook were both just as frantic as we were. Ava had only lived here for less than a month, yet she somehow had managed to bond with them, and in turn, they were deeply fond of having her around the house.

I waited a beat or two for Alistair to respond, and when nothing came, I furiously walked towards the foyer, ready to demand what the bloody fuck was going on, only to find Ava—or the likeness of her—dirtied up with soiled clothes, face ashen, with eyes that were bleak, and a terrified look on her face.