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“I want to be with him.” I knew he was a flawed man, but when I cared about someone, I didn’t give up on them without a fight.
Remember the pain, Lola. Remember how much it hurt to lose him.
“I know.” He squeezed my hand and I chanced a look up at him, relieved to find him smiling his easy smile.
Thirty-Seven
At 5.30 I locked up for the day. On my way out I stopped to give Daisy a scratch behind the ears. The old girl leaned against me and I crouched, placing a kiss on top of her head, her fur warm from the sun. When I got to the car park I was surprised to find Elliot waiting for me by the Rolls.
“Elliot? What’re you doing here?”
“Mr Tell was called to a meeting so was unable to pick you up himself. I’m to take you to him.”
“Not to Harrington?” I asked, remembering my little face-off with a certain pinch faced bitch whom I’d rather avoid at all costs.
“No, Miss, to The Carlton. He’s working from his office there.”
After this morning I wasn’t sure I wanted to see him. I ran through in my head what would happen if I didn’t go. He would wait until I was alone, find me, and scramble my thoughts. I could either go now, or I could go later. As usual, all roads led to Alfie Tell.
“Alright, but do you mind if I ride up front with you? It’s awkward sitting in the back.”
Elliot looked at me, his eyebrows raised slightly. “Of course, Miss.” He led me to the passenger side and I climbed in.
“Some music?”
“Vivaldi, please,” I said, not missing the approving look he gave me. I felt safe with Elliot. His protective aura cast an umbrella over me that allowed me to relax into the seat and sift through my jarring thoughts. It was strange that this man, with thickly calloused knuckles, a faint scar across his throat, and a nose that looked like it had been broken many times, could make anyone feel safe, and yet he did.
An hour later I stepped into the lift at The Carlton, gliding up to the presidential suite with a hint of trepidation. After this morning I wasn’t sure what version of Alfie I was going to find.
I dumped my bag on the foyer table and stopped for a moment to inhale the vase of fresh bleeding hearts. The bright pink buds looked sorely out of place in the sea of cream and glass, yet the room seemed to need their colour.
I went upstairs, heading straight for Alfie’s office. I was surprised to find the door closed. I opened it without knocking and instantly wished I hadn’t. Alfie was sitting behind his desk, and leaning over him, much too close for my liking, was Angie.
She straightened and folded her arms, her face smeared with that sneer that I was sure had been painted on at birth. Alfie looked stern, but beyond that he was a mask of impenetrability.
“Lola, would you wait downstairs please?” It wasn’t a request, it was an order. His voice was cold and distant. That wasn’t unusual for him, but this time he wastoodistant. Something didn’t feel right. He looked haunted, as if he had ghosts whispering in his ears.
“Are you alright?” I hovered in the doorway like an unwanted third wheel. I felt her eyes on me, the intruder in my den, but I kept my focus on Alfie.What’s wrong with him?
“I’m working, Lola. Wait downstairs.”
Angie barely suppressed a snicker and I barely suppressed the urge to drag her around the room by her hair. I wanted to shake this awful version of Alfie and scream at him to snap out of it, but I knew it would be useless. Dejected and sick with worry, I shut the door and left them to their meeting.
Downstairs, I paced, unsure what to do.
What the hell is his problem?That was a question that plagued me so often. Whatwashis problem? The Alfie Tell in that awful article I’d read weeks ago was nothing like the half-dead man sitting upstairs with that witch. I wasn’t sure which version of him I preferred. All I was sure of was that the version sitting upstairs did not look alright.
Grabbing my phone from my bag, I stomped out onto the balcony and slammed the door behind me. I hated the feeling of being under the same roof as Alfie and Angie. I was tempted to leave, but once again, I was stuck here without my van. It occurred to me that Alfie had probably engineered that on purpose. He knew that I couldn’t afford to pay for a taxi home.
I opened the browser on my phone, took a breath, and typed in ‘Alfie Tell.’ If I was going to make this work with Alfie, I needed to know more about him. I was hit by a barrage of information, mostly about his work, his business awards, some old scandal articles that I definitely didn’t need to read any more about. None of that was interesting.
There were a few hits on his sister, Grace, so I opened one of those but it didn’t tell me anything useful. She was a socialite, beautiful of course, engaged to some software genius, 28 years old. Nothing useful.
I clicked off the article then froze, my thumb hovering over the keys. I returned to the article and re-read it. She was 28 years old. She wasyoungerthan Alfie. I returned to the browser and typed in the title of that hideous article I’d read weeks ago and scrolled through it until I’d found what I wanted. “Alfie Tell, the second offspring of business tycoon Joseph Tell…”I paused and re-read it again.“The second offspring.”The first time I’d read that I’d assumed that Grace must be the first offspring, but if she was younger than Alfie then she had to be the third…So who was the first?
I returned to the browser and continued my research. I found another series of articles, most of them about Alfie. Headline after headline from more than a decade ago, listing a hundred of his exploits.
Finally, I found a less reprehensible article around a decade old;“Alfie Tell named new CEO of Tell Ltd.”I clicked on the link and read closely, unsurprised by most of it. It mentioned his father’s death—a heart attack some months before the article was written. There was a picture of his parents, Joseph and Carolyn Tell. My breath caught at the sight of them. It was a press shot for some event. Her smile was soulless, her eyes cold, and though Alfie was dark and she was very fair, I could see where Alfie had gotten his beauty from. Joseph looked nothing like Alfie, though I could see where Alfie had learned that impenetrable gaze. I shivered. I felt intimidated just looking at them.