Page 19 of London’s Calling, Part 1 (London’s Calling)
Chapter Nineteen
Mickey
All fucking night I’ve sat in her—no, my apartment waiting for her to return. As the sun rises, I head back down to my apartment where I take a lukewarm shower, hoping to wake myself up, and dress for the office.
I haven’t been able to get the thought of Roni going home with that wanker, him fucking her, out of my head And it’s not even that, just the idea of him touching her, any part of her, has me wanting to cut his hands off.
It’s completely illogical, irrational and ironic.
The one woman I shouldn’t want is living rent free in my mind night and day.
I’ve tried to deny it, and I thought finding out she’s set to marry Clayton would turn me off, burst the bubble, break the spell, whatever this fucking shit is.
If anything, it’s only increased my desire for her.
Fuck that!
By the time I make it to the office, my mood has dropped into the bowels of hell.
I managed to hit every damn traffic light, every jam and even got stuck behind a guy on a motorbike who clearly thought he owned the road.
It took me double the normal time, so when I get to my office and find Donald waiting for me, I know my day is fucked.
“What is it, Donald?” I ask, opening my office door.
“Er… Well, um…”
“Spit it the fuck out,” I snap, spinning to face him.
“I just heard Clayton Simmonds fired his board of directors by way of an ordinary resolution.”
“Excuse me?” I say slowly, sure I misheard him.
“Clayton fired his boa—”
“I heard you, Donald. What I’m having trouble with how the fuck he managed to do that less than twenty-four hours after I met with him.”
“Well…” Donald begins explaining the ordinary resolution process to me like I don’t fucking know how it works.
“Enough!” Donald jumps and takes a step back from me. “Out,” I tell him, and his eyes widen at the order.
“Mickey, we need—”
“No, Donald, we don’t need to do anything. You need to get out of my office before I fire you.” He tries to speak again, but I march forward, forcing him out of my office. As soon as he’s over the threshold, I slam the door shut, rattling the walls.
“Fuck! Fuck!” I thump the door with my fist just in case anyone was unsure about exactly how pissed I am. Stalking back to my desk, I flick the mouse, bringing my computer to life, and settle in my chair.
I open Companies House website and search for Tower Hotels. It seems to take an age for the screen to load, and when the information finally fills my screen, my anger takes on a whole other persona. It’s a fucking storm.
My door flies open, and my father marches in wearing a look I imagine mirrors my own.
“What the fuck happened, Mickey?”
“What the fuck happened? What the fuck happened is your pal Hart screwed us. Again! That’s what happened.” I watch my father pace my office, wondering… “When did you know that Franklin was using his fucking daughter as a bargaining chip?”
He halts, turning his head and levelling me with a look that tells me he knows exactly what I’m asking.
“You think I knew he was going to sell his daughter just to fuck me over? You think I fucking set you up to fail?” He scoffs. “How little you think of me if you believe that, Mickey.”
While I continue to seethe at being played, my father takes a seat opposite me.
“Tell me about last night. What happened?”
I close my eyes momentarily before pinning them on my father.
“They were there when I arrived, Franklin and Roni with Clayton. Just like you thought. It was a done deal, Dad. Last night was just for show, and for Franklin to wave his victory in our faces.” I scrub a hand across my face.
I’m ashamed to admit that in all this my thoughts are of Roni and how she fares in all this.
“Hmm,” Dad hums, resting back in his chair.
“Okay, well, there is more than one way to skin a cat. I have some calls to make. In the meantime, get working on the Whitechapel property. I want it refurbed and up and running asap.” He rises from his chair, pausing a moment.
“Be careful with her, Mickey. The apple never falls far from the tree, son.”
I shake my head as he leaves. I’ve never understood how he seems to know everything, but I intend to fucking learn and quick. Business isn’t truly about how much money you have or even about investing. No, this business runs on information. If you know jack shit, then you’re going nowhere fast.
An hour later, once I’ve calmed down, I call a meeting with Donald to go over the plans for the Whitechapel property.
The old, dilapidated hotel is about to receive a glorious makeover and open its doors for the first time in twenty years.
The politics and historical nature of Whitechapel make it incredibly difficult to get anything passed by the council.
But my father has managed to convince the council this hotel will align with their future development plans.
And of course, anything that plays on the history of Jack the Ripper is going to be a winner.
The afternoon passes in a migraine inducing mass of blueprints, designs and contract tenders.
By the time I leave the office, I’m about ready to fall into my bed and sleep the night away.
But that’s not going to happen because I still have a bone to pick with the Ice Queen since she didn’t show last night.
That bone has grown from a single metatarsal to the spine running the length of her body.
Let’s hope her backbone is as strong as her fucking father’s.
Back at my temporary home, I shower and eat, then I take my beer and head to her apartment to wait.
Again.
It’s two hours before I watch Carl’s car pull up outside.
He exits the car and opens the rear door for her.
She looks beautiful when she steps out despite being dressed down in a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a sweater.
Her hair is loose, falling over her face as she dips her head to Carl before slowly, gingerly making her way to the front entrance.
There’s something about her movements that hit my gut like a bullet from a gun.
Something is wrong.
There’s a slight limp to her walk, and each movement seems to cause her pain. I’m out of my seat before I can think better of it and waiting as the lift door opens.