64

LONDON

I’d been living at Striker’s house for a week now. I had no complaint. In fact, it felt like home to me, even if he was not around. This house was once my home, after all, until my life fell apart. Neke was still in shock upon finding out the new owner, Braddson-Cade LLC. She even searched for it online.

Despite everything happening so fast, I still considered myself lucky. I got my work back. I was beginning to pick up pieces—that was what I should do— and damn, I owed that to myself— When you fall, learn from it, get up, and rise again.

I may have a roof over my head, but I hadn’t seen Striker again. I guessed he was true to his words.

I didn’t do it for you. Those were his last words. Harsh, but I probably deserved it.

It was Saturday. I woke up at seven in the morning. After my workout, I went to the kitchen and wasn’t alone anymore.

“Reef, you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“My job, ma’am.” He was stocking some supplies into cupboards.

“Really? Your job?” I chuckled as I got the bottle of water he offered. “Thanks.”

“Yes. I am getting paid for stocking your pantry, keeping the house safe and clean, and ensuring you have enough food. You barely ate.”

“I tried cooking, but it was a disaster.” I chuckled sadly. I was supposed to cook pasta, but I ended up having a sandwich for dinner. I was also getting tired of takeouts.

“I can help you with that.”

“You have enough trouble for me.”

“No biggies, ma’am.” He faced me when we were done. “Anyway, anything you’d like to request? Any specific salad bowls you like?”

“The old one is good.”

“If you need anything, just give me a call.”

“Thanks.”

Once I was alone, I sat on the stool, wondering. At least, one more thing I should be grateful for, I wouldn’t get starved.

I turned on the tv and watched the talking show. I didn’t have a clue what was going on with the stock market after Striker bought LH. It had been a week since I hadn’t checked and updated my Instagram. At that time, my life seemed to be put on hold.

“The London Hester clothing chain was sold for a whopping sixty million dollars to a new owner Braddson-Cade LLC. Some speculations that the renowned ready-to-wear clothing line has a net worth of one hundred and thirty million dollars. Is Vanderford Global on the brink of bankruptcy? We tried to get a statement from the VG, but to no avail,” said the lady host.

“That’s absurd.” The report made me angrier. These were lies.

“London Vanderford started LH. That’s why it’s named after her. I wonder what she has to say about Linus Vanderford choosing it to sell instead of other brands. London, if you are watching this, feel free to give a comment on this.”

I picked up the remote and changed the channel to a news network.

“She was Ivan Miller before she became Ivy Jones and was last seen two days in her apartment. The police are still investigating the cause of death for foul play or if the victim committed suicide.”

My eyes bulged, gaze still glued to the tv as Ivy’s picture was flashed on the screen and the video of her as they pulled her out of the river.

Goosebumps erupted all over my clammy skin as my body began to shake. I wanted to blink and close my eyes to unsee the horrific image, but it still lingered as I froze.

“Oh, my God.” I gasped for air, covering my face with trembling hands as I tried to hold on to the counter and slide off the stool. I almost knocked myself down without help from huge hands holding me in place.

“Ohmigod. No!” I struggled to get off those hands out of a grip, striking them until they wrapped them around me tightly.

My attempt was a catastrophe.

“Vanderford.” It was a man’s voice calling my name. London, it’s me.”

“Get off of me.” My effort exhausted me. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

“Vanderford, calm down. It’s me, Cade. It’s Cade, okay? I’m not going to hurt you.” He held me even tighter, repeatedly whispering that I was safe, but I felt like I couldn’t comprehend, as if it were in a foreign language.

But I knew that voice— it sounded familiar. The warmth felt familiar, as if I’d been trusting it for a long time.

“No,” I repeated those words over and over as I shook to cry.

“Vanderford, look at me. Open your eyes.” It became clearer. It was Cade talking to me. But he was not here. This was just a figment of my imagination. This was not real.

I shook my head violently as he pulled my hands off my face. “You’re not real. You’re not real. You’re not real.”

“I’m real, Vanderford. I am here with you.”

“This is not real.”

“Cobalt blue. The color of my eyes. Trust what you see.”

“No.”

“I turned off the tv. It was just in the news. You’re safe here in the house. Come on, baby. You’re stronger than this. Remember cobalt blue.”

“I’m scared.”

“Nothing to be scared of. He’s gone. Just take a deep breath.”

“You left me. You left me again.” I chanted again and again until I was out of breath.

“Look at me, please?”

“Cade.” Then I stopped and did as he said, slowly. It was still blurry at first. Then I blinked and blinked again until the cobalt blue became clear.

“Yes. It’s me.”

I threw myself into him and snaked my arms around him. I felt his fingers against my hair as he kept saying it’s gonna be okay. I didn’t want to let him go. I wanted to be sure that he was here with me right now.

“H-how? How are you here?” My throat seemed parched.

“This is my house.”

I pulled away as I blew a breath. I couldn’t look at him anymore. I felt ashamed, and I realized I was sweaty. Why did this matter? I shook my head in irritation and chose to walk away from him.

“Vanderford?”

I ignored him. I went to the backdoor and breathed deeply. I did it a couple of times until I sensed him.

“Are you okay?”

“Why are you there every time I am in trouble?” My voice was still trembling, but I mastered controlling it.

“I just saved your ass from falling, and that’s how you thank me? It’s not that I’m seeking it.”

I inhaled deeply before I spoke. “What happened to her?”

“My suspicion is someone killed her.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“She’s closed with Magnus, right? Is he in danger too?”

“I don’t think so.”

“As much as I hated them, I didn’t want that to happen to them.” I fisted and unfisted my hands. “Ivy deserved jail time, not death.” I turned around to face Striker. “Are you sure you have nothing to do with this?”

“What? Kill someone for you?” He snorted and didn’t even try hard to hide the disgusted look on his face.

“You’ve killed before, right?”

“Or I would get killed. The job I swore an oath to is to protect, and I would never kill someone for sports or vengeance. I’m not a murderer.”

I walked past him. “So she’s dead now. Is that mean I’m safe?”

“No.” His answer was strong and straightforward.

“What do you mean no?” I stopped and looked him in the eye.

“Your father pissed off dangerous people. Ivy is just a moth compared to these people, the huge flame.”

I swallowed hard. I felt like I was going to collapse. He managed to hold me in his arms before the world spun around.

“I’m not feeling so well.”

“I got you.” He scooped me, carried me bridal style, and took me out of the kitchen. “What the hell is wrong with you, Vanderford? Are you not eating? You lost weight.”

My vision was still spinning even if I had already squeezed my eyes shut.

I felt him putting me down to something soft. He then took off my shoes one by one. I was already in bed.

“I need a change.”

“Shut up. You’re probably hypoglycemic right now. Stay put. If I see you move a muscle, I will tie you to this bed.”

I froze at his words. I was even scared to swallow. When I heard footsteps fading, I slowly cracked my eyes open. I was in our room. I still felt dizzy and about to throw up. I rushed to the bathroom and emptied my stomach into the toilet.

“Vanderford?” he called out my name a little louder when he found the bed empty.

I raised my hand but couldn’t tell him I was in the bathroom, throwing my guts out.

“Vanderford! Jesus Christ, are you okay?”

I nodded.

I heard the water from the sink, then later, he held my hair away from my face and gave me the glass. “Here.”

“Thanks.” I cleaned my mouth well before sitting on the floor, catching my breath.

“Let me take you to bed.”

I could barely shake my head. I was so drained.

“Are you sick? Have you been not feeling well?”

“I’m okay.”

“I brought juice.”

I nodded. “Can I clean up?”

“Let me help.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stand by yourself.”

“Stay behind the door, but I need clean clothes.”

“I’ll go take them.”

“Thanks.”

Once he went to take my clothes, I stripped off of my workout clothes. I was still weak but felt more powerless in my dirty clothes. I went to the shower, and the water was invigorating.

A moment later, he knocked on the glass. “Vanderford.”

“Just put the robe on the rack.”

After my quick shower, I put on my robe. When I went out of the bathroom, Striker was gone, but I had my clothes on the bed, with my underwear and a glass of grape juice on the bedside table.

I put them on and sat at the edge of the bed. My hair was still dripping, but I felt I’d rather sleep than brush and dry it. I took a few sips of the grape juice and put it down as I felt I’d rather curl into a ball in my bed.

I was about to lie down when the door swung open. Striker was carrying a stray of breakfast. How did he prepare them in less than five minutes?

“Get in bed,” he ordered without humor.

“My hair’s still wet.”

“Let me handle your hair, London.” Now he sounded mad, so mad his voice was harsh and stern.

I had no choice but to follow before he transformed into a beast.

“Just sit in the middle.” He placed the tray in front of me. “Eat.”

He went to the dresser, and I heard drawers opening and closing. When he came back, he had my hair blower and brush in his hands.

“I said eat.”

I cut the omelet and shoved a small slice into my mouth while he began brushing my hair. I instantly recognized the taste. “Is Linden here?”

He turned on the blower instead and did as he pleased, ignoring my question. He seemed to know what he was doing, giving me a feeling of a pang in my chest.

Whatever.

“You’re gonna talk to me somehow.”

“Just eat. Once you’re done, then we’re having a conversation.”