Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“All of it, sweetheart.” He hugs me into his side and kisses the top of my head. “I’m keeping you safe from all of it. He was no good for you, sweetheart. Too old, a quitter, and a failure. He realizes that now.” We enter the elevator and Grant pulls the bars across with his good arm before turning and handing something to my father. A phone. My phone.
“No one is good enough for me,” I murmur to myself, looking at the two large backs of the men in front of me. Jake would have them on the floor by now if he was here. He wouldn’t let them take me.
So where is he?
“Give me my phone,” I say to Dad as he slips it into his jacket pocket. He completely ignores my request, not even entertaining me with a fleeting glance. I frown at him as the elevator jolts and the ear-piercing screech of the sliding metal doors echoes throughout the derelict factory floor. I use my slight stagger into my father’s round body to my advantage, slipping my hand into his jacket pocket and taking my phone as he steadies me.
One second I’m being escorted to my father’s car, and the next I’m in a dead sprint, running toward the daylight on the other side of the factory, my phone in my fisted hand.
“Camille!” Dad roars.
I ignore him. My instincts are telling me to get away from my father—a man I should naturally feel safe with.
I burst into the daylight and quickly assess my surroundings, seeing nothing but more old factories, wasteland, and water. I look across the Thames as I run, finding the city too far away for comfort. It’s only just across the water, but too far nevertheless.
“Damn it!” I curse, glancing over my shoulder when I hear the thunderous pounding of Pete and Grant following. Neither are built for speed, even when they’re uninjured. But that comfort doesn’t slow my pace. I keep running, feeling like my life is depending on it.
* * *
My lungs are burning by the time I make it to a river bus on the pier. The journey across the Thames feels like it lasts a year, but the ride gives me time to try to clear my head. Or let my thoughts become even more jumbled. I turn my phone back on and scroll through my contacts, but I don’t find what I’m looking for, the one thing I need. Jake’s number has vanished from my phone. Gone. I curse and try to breathe some calm into me, interrupted a few times by my father attempting to ring. Rejecting a call has never been so easy.
I look up as the boat chugs into the dock, deciding there’s only one place I can go. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I need my mum.
I dial her number and hold my breath as I disembark from the river bus, my bag dangling from my hand. “Camille?”
“Mum,” I exhale, detecting concern in her voice.
“What’s going on? Why would your father be calling me?”
I shrink on the spot. I can only imagine how desperate he is to find me if he resorted to calling my mother. “Mum, can you come and get me?” I refrain from feeding her need for information. It’s neither the time nor the place, and I’m worried Pete and Grant could appear at any moment and manhandle me into Dad’s car.
“Where are you?”
“Canary Wharf Pier.”
“What in good heavens are you doing there?”
“It’s a long story, Mum. I’ll tell you, but please just come and get me.”
“I’ll send my driver this moment,” she says, making me sag in relief. I’ve never known her to back down with such ease. “Wait outside the Hilton, sweetie pie.”
“Thanks.” I hang up, unable to help myself from constantly looking around me, checking that the coast is clear. I must look like a jumpy, paranoid waif, standing here all disheveled, my eyes darting. The paps would have a field day.
Feeling a little more at ease with the knowledge that Mum’s driver is on his way, I walk over to a nearby café to get a coffee. The caffeine is a welcome hit to my tired brain as I wander around the pier toward the Hilton, still remaining super alert.
All kinds of scenarios are rolling through my mind—what I’ll do if I see Dad or either of his two minions, what they’ll do, what any of the passersby will do if I scream bloody murder if one of them tries to force me into Dad’s car. I didn’t bargain for this. He’s always tried to control me and I’ve managed to keep his strong will at bay, but this time is different. He’s never taken things this far. Following me? Digging into the background of who I choose to see? The sense of intrusion is infuriating, but that’s nothing compared to the devastation of thinking he’s possibly succeeded in chasing Jake away. I know Jake’s struggles. His flashbacks, his anxiety attacks. My dad using his knowledge of Jake’s problems as ammo will play havoc with Jake’s frame of mind. It’ll make him question himself. Question us.