Page 46 of Pervade London
Relief washed over me when the taxi drew close to our building. I trudged on in and stepped into the lift, riding up to our floor in a daze.
I walked down the hall and saw that our door had been left ajar.
Sweat snaked down my spine as I nudged it open and stepped inside.
The blood drained out of my face and my breathing became unsteady. The flat was empty. It had been stripped of everything during the few hours we’d been at the hotel.
Leaving my suitcase and violin just inside the door, I ran from room to room and checked each closet. The furniture, wall-hangings, every last item in Xander’s office—everything was gone. My photos, my musical sheets, and my beloved old violin, they had been taken as well.
This wasn’t a break-in—they had wiped out my life.
I reached into my handbag and pulled out my phone, pressing the power button to turn it back on. Despite James’ threats, it was time to call the police.
I stared down at the screen in disbelief as it failed to come on. It didn’t make sense. I’d charged it back at the hotel.
The terror I felt made it hard for me to breathe.
I walked by the sitting room and noticed a black duffel bag on the floor in the far corner. I approached it cautiously. Kneeling beside it, I unzipped the bag and my throat tightened. Hundreds of bank notes were inside.
Catching a sudden movement in my peripheral vision, I spun around.
James leaned casually against the doorjamb, his tall frame filling the space easily. My fateful mistake was falling for his gentlemanly demeanor when we’d first met. The Savile Row suit and his sophisticated pose reflected a man who always got his way.
He’d followed me back.
I wondered how he’d react when I set his money on fire.
I pushed to my feet. “Where is he?”
“Five hundred thousand pounds—” He gestured to the duffel bag.
“Don’t want it.”
“You’re going to need it, Emily. Your bank account no longer exists.”
“You don’t have that kind of power.”
He gave me a humorless smile. “The money is enough to pay rent for a few months and take care of—”
“This is my home. I’m staying.”
He pushed off the doorframe and strolled toward me. “That’s not going to happen.”
“What have you done to him?”
He chuckled.
“This isn’t funny.”
“You’re very dramatic.”
“You just kidnapped my boyfriend.”
“He came willingly.”
“Didn’t look like it.”
“That’s because you don’t have the full picture.”
