Page 22 of The Devil's Pawn

“I don’t believe you do. For example, are you aware there’s a vehicle following us with two armed bodyguards inside? They’re there to ensure our safety.”

My eyebrows fly up my forehead. “There is?” I twist to look out the back window. Sure enough, there’s a mean-looking, black SUV following us.

“Yes. And Douglas, the man driving this car, is also armed, as is Steven, the man sitting in the passenger seat. All of them have received training in hand-to-hand combat and are prepared to sacrifice their lives to protect us if we are targeted. So, yes, my little pawn, I gave you a new phone—one that has the necessary security built in that befits my wife.”

“I thought… I mean… I don’t get it. That feels like overkill.”

“Wealth of our level always brings attention with it, not all of it good.”

I rub my lips together, recalling my tour of Oakleigh the day after we arrived. “Hence the panic rooms?”

“Exactly. They’ve never been used, but it makes sense to be prepared for all eventualities. All of our properties have at least one panic room.”

He stuffs the bud back into his ear and resumes his annoying tapping, our brief conversation over as far as he is concerned. I take out my new phone and turn it over in my hand. It looks the same as a regular phone, but there must be something different about it other than a UK number, or he wouldn’t have bothered swapping it out.

Opening my messages, my spirits lift when I see a text from Emma.

Emma: Got it. Why the new number, though?

Me: Don’t ask *rolling eye emoji*

Emma: LOL. So, how’d it go? I’m heartbroken I couldn’t be there to support you.

Me: It went. I survived. Here’s a pic of me in my dress.

Emma: Oh, babe! You look gorgeous.

Me: And now we’re off on honeymoon. Scotland.

Emma: Jel.

Me: Don’t be. If you were here, it’d be different, but he’s barely spoken to me. How am I supposed to force him to ask me for a divorce if he ignores me most of the time?

As soon as I send it, my heart skips a beat. What if Alexander can track my texts? I wouldn’t put anything past him. I should have thought about this. Dammit. Too late now. And if he is reading my private messages, I guess I’ll know soon enough.

Emma: We will work this out, babe. Promise. Hang on in there and try to enjoy what parts of it you can.

Me: I miss you.

Emma: You, too. Love you. See you soon.

A wave of isolation engulfs me. I let myself wallow for a few minutes, then shake off the negative emotions. Feeling sorry for myself won’t help this situation one bit. This is the first time I’ve been outside of Oakleigh since we arrived last Wednesday. I should take advantage and enjoy thesurroundings.

England is a pretty country. So green. The roads are awfully small, though, especially these winding country lanes barely wide enough for two cars to pass. In fact, in one or two spots, they’re only one-car wide, with cut out areas several hundred yards apart for cars to move over to let another pass.

It takes about forty-five minutes to arrive at a small airfield. I’ve no idea where we are, and I don’t ask. Alexander probably wouldn’t tell me, anyway. The man is a master at avoiding questions he doesn’t want to answer, and his refusal will only annoy me, resulting in another thorny exchange.

Douglas opens Alexander’s door, and a few seconds later, Steven opens mine. I climb out, leaping forward when Alexander places a warm hand on my lower back. If he notices my jumpiness, he doesn’t mention it, but he doesn’t touch me again, either. I make my way up the stairs and onto the plane. It’s smaller than the one Charles sent to fly us over from California, although no less luxurious.

Steven and the two guys in the other car follow us, taking their seats toward the back of the plane. Alexander chooses a seat near the front. I’m tempted to go sit with the bodyguards, but that’s too churlish even for me.

I sit across from him and fasten my seat belt. “How many jets do you own?”

It’s another attempt at conversation, if only to give me a break from the weighty silences Alexander seems to favor.

“Me personally, or the family?”

“Either. Both.”

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