Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 643(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 643(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
The Adley firm no longer kept their business to East London. They had spread out. Like a cancer, I once heard my father snipe at the news. They now owned all of London—the north, south, east and west. Their biggest and most successful club was here in Knightsbridge. I got chills every time I passed the Sparrow Room in a taxi, wondering if Arthur was ever in there. I’d heard he was, often. All the more reason for me to keep away.
I knew it was an epic club; enough of our acquaintances raved about it for me to gather that. But what no one knew, or even suspected, was the five-year-long affair I had had with Arthur.
“We have your outfit all picked out for tomorrow, and”—Freya jumped off the bed—“for dinner tonight.” She held up a purple silk Fendi maxi dress and a pair of low-heeled Jimmy Choos. She came over and shooed me from the bed. “A dinner that is booked for twenty-five minutes’ time. So hurry!” I grabbed the dress and shoes and went into the bathroom.
As soon as I shut the door, I leaned against it and tried to stem my panic. I would do this dinner tonight, then cry off tomorrow night. Claim it was food poisoning or something. I couldn’t step inside that club. I couldn’t take seeing Arthur after all this time. And I certainly couldn’t take his rejection. Because I knew that would be what met me. He wasn’t the man I once knew; that much was clear. And I knew I had only heard the tip of the iceberg of what he and his firm had done to other gangs and crime syndicates over the past thirteen months. There would be more. So much more.
“You’d better be getting a move on, honey! Fifteen minutes now,” Freya shouted through the door. That got me moving. I threw on some more makeup, tied my hair back in a low bun and pulled on my dress. I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked pale. I looked nervous.
I moved to the window and opened it a fraction, sucking in the cool air. I stared down the street, right in the direction of the Sparrow Room. It wasn’t far from here. Walking distance. If I concentrated hard enough, I would be able to hear the sound of its music. It didn’t really get busy until late, but it opened its doors around now for those who wanted an early start.
“Cheska!” Arabella shouted.
“Coming!” I opened the door to my friends.
We dined, and the entire time I tried to stay in the moment, to enjoy all the effort my best friends had put into tonight. I loved them. They were truly like my sisters. I was the bad friend. I had been the one to keep a huge part of my life from them for the longest time. I didn’t deserve them.
By the time we returned to the room for drinks, Freya and Arabella were legless. I was tipsy but had kept my head straight for fear I would say something about Arthur if alcohol controlled my tongue.
I tossed my bag on the table as the sound of a text came through. Laughing at Freya trying to somersault onto the bed in her Gucci playsuit, I opened the screen and struggled to make out what I was seeing. It only took a couple of seconds for me to understand. It was a video, with no sound. My hands started shaking as the camera panned out.
“No,” I sobbed, when my father and Hugo came into view. They were bloodied and beaten. Only one of my father’s eyes remained open. Freya and Arabella came running to me. Freya covered her mouth with her hand when she saw the screen. Arabella held on to my arm.
And we watched.
We watched as my father and Hugo were beaten and hurt. Then a man in a balaclava and dressed in black came forward with a gun. My father fought his restraints, but the man held a gun to his head.
He pulled the trigger.
I screamed as my father’s head dropped forward and life drained from his body. Hugo fought too, looking in horror at my father. Hugo turned to face the attacker. He was speaking to him frantically, begging him for something. For mercy, I imagined. But the killer just held the gun to his head and fired a bullet, killing him too.
My legs grew weak and I collapsed onto the floor. Freya and Arabella followed me down, the two of them wrapping their arms around me.
“Dad … Hugo …” I cried, replaying the video over and over in my head.
“The police.” Freya got to her feet. “We need to call the police.” She had just got to the phone when the door to our bedroom was slammed open and three men marched inside. I went to scream when I saw they were dressed in the same black clothes and balaclavas as the men in the video. But they moved before I could.