“Here.” I lick my lips. “Was she outside when you arrived with allyourservants?”
“Obviously not.”
Thehelpassists him, following me back toward the home's front door. “Who’s looking into the night of my lady’s disappearance . . .”
I cannot hear Burt’s response because I set eyes on Luxury. She’s sliding out of the backseat of the vehicle we arrived in late last night. One hand pushes into her unruly hair, and the other clutches a ghastly pair of nightclothes I’ve seen before. Luxury wore those yellow-polka dotted pajamas the night she discovered my true identity.
“I had to go home to get them.” She gestures to them, not quite meeting my eye.
“This is home. Unless you’d prefer another home. Wherever I am—”
She groans. “I’mhome. I know.”
Well, shite. That never sounded more like a lie than it does slipping past her lips.
Weariness is evident behind my gaze. Although I ultimately succumbed to a couple of winks—and didn’t hear Luxury leave our bed—I’m bloody knackered. While my world’s upended, I’m still a man averse to the wordno. I tell myself not to ask, but in the end, it’s impossible not to. I plead, “May I hug you, Luxury?”
My woman finally glances in my direction. Palpable pain darkens her eyes. “I can’t be hugged, Victor. Or touched. I don’t know how long I’ll be like this. I’m sorry.”
Powerless, I watch as Luxury scurries into the house past Burt and the team he’s hired. Like a daft wanka, I stand my ground and stop myself from running after her.
Well, you’ve learned your lesson, Vic. No running after an angry woman.
Go too soon, and get your bloody head bitten off.
Wait too late. And the same results. No, fucking head. She’d chop it clear off. I stuff my hands into my trousers, letting out a dejected huff.
Damn it! I’ve not felt this way since I lost my wife, Emeli, and my son, Jude. And though I may have lost another child, Luxury is stilltechnicallyalive.
15
Victor
Three weeks later . . .
We bought a house in the rural, coastal area of New York. Previously, Burt’s team of servants had dotted every i and crossed every t on my long, superfluous list. The fucking list was extensive, all in the hope of compelling any emotion from my woman. My desire is that once Luxury can see farther than the place where she stares off, she’ll notice everything. The massive home could house an entire rugby team. The icing on the cake is the tiny boat at the end of the pier. I could almost imagine the old Luxury squealing that the sailboat is romantic.
But that’s if she steps into the backyard, bypasses the tennis courts, and saunters onto the sandy beaches. Or perhaps she’ll see the free-standing conservatory, filled with orchids, tropical flowers, succulents, and cacti. And the beautiful gardens that surround it, which will flower soon.
The house wasn’t on the market, nor were the owners interested in selling. But after all the cursing I’d done while declining the proffered mansions, Burt persuaded the couple who once owned the place to scram.
Our therapist comes once per week, and I’ve encouraged Luxury to visit Urban Gardens, with or without me. She’s stuck, cognitively speaking.
“Have you found out who plotted to take my woman?” I growl at the butler as he sits in the breakfast nook. Though Burt hasn’t taken on any of his usual duties, he has a few requirements that he must address.
Burt removes the teacup from his lips. “As you’re well aware, Victor, the cameras inside and surrounding your Arlington Estate were—”
“Inoperable. I’m bloody well aware!” I gesture with stiff hands.
While squeezing the teabag against the side of the cup, Burt huffs, “It’s preposterous to believe the sheikh had someone on the inside to assist him. Who would cross you? And don’t you dare say your mother.”
“I’ve no mother, Burt. Every day, I tell Luxury that I will return to Saudi Arabia, vindicate our wrong, and she saysno.The only time she speaks with me is to deny me our justice! Her bloody justice! So, while I wait for the two of us to have a discussion . . . a fucking discussion of substance, I will find the cunt who assisted Al Rafi. No,youwill. You will find that person,Burt the Butler.”
He nods slowly, glancing out of the window at the bright green rolling lawns. “Nevertheless, if my intuition hasn’t failed me, Victor, gleaning the truth may send you . . .” Burt pauses and clears his throat. “Luxury, how did you sleep?”
I straighten up from my wide-legged stance, licking the innate taste for blood from my lips. “Yes, Lux, how did you sleep? I’m elated you’ve come down for breakfast.”
“I slept.” Her contrite tone fades as she forces a small smile for Burt. “How about you?”