Page 27 of Storm over the Caribbean
Yet it isn’t a home!
It was just a sterile place to stay for a night or two. I bit my lip and stared out of the window, scrutinizing a certain broad, black-clad back as if it held all answers to the mysteries of the universe. Who would want their child to grow up in a place like this? More importantly, who would take his wife and unborn child to a place like this?
Nobody! Except…
I froze.
Nobody, except maybe someone who has never had a home.
In an instant, any hint of pregnancy-induced annoyance that I might have felt evaporated. He…he’d never known what a home was like, had he? He’d been thrown out by his own father before he could ever really learn it. True, my own experience of “home life” at my aunt and uncle’s wasn’t exactly stellar, but at least I’d had Ella, and later my friends. He…
He’d had no one.
He’d been out in the cold, all alone. As a child.
Instinctively, my hands tightened over my belly, protectively sheltering the bump. Right then and there, I came to a decision.
This. Cannot. Stand.
My gaze drifted on to where, right next to the Casino, rose a tall, beautiful townhouse. The fresh paint was hardly dry, and colourful flowers were just beginning to bloom in the front garden surrounded by a white picket fence.
I smirked. Now, wasn’t that a coincidence?
***
Real estate speculator Francis Lindley Allingham stood in front of his new property, hands on hips, and a self-satisfied smile on his face. It truly was a magnificent sight. Hard to believe he had only bought this place a fortnight ago. He was lucky to have heard over the grapevine about this huge hotel and casino being built right next to an old property by some filthy rich business mogul called Ambrose. It had been the work of a moment to snatch the neighbouring property up, pressure a renovation company that happened to be in debt to him, and have the place fixed up into a beautiful town house.
Now he only needed to wait until that casino opened its doors. Then the real estate prices in the area would shoot up, and he would make a fortune by selling this place for thrice its actual price to some pretentious, idiotic nouveau riche who—
“Ehem, excuse me?”
Annoyed, Allingham turned around to see who had the nerve to interrupt him and came face-to-face with…some pregnant lady? And behind her stood…a huge bearded bloke with…was that aturbanand asabre?
The huge man drew his weapon in one fluid movement. Sunlight glinted on metal.
Yes, a sabre. Definitely a sabre.
“Good afternoon,” the pregnant lady asked, smiling broadly. Or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say, showing a lot of teeth. “My name is Lillian Ambrose.LadyLillian Ambrose. Tell me…would you be interested in selling this property?”
A Home for a Cold Heart
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No! I shall not go behind theSahib’s back.”
“Oh yes, you will.” Crossing my arms, I gave an evil chuckle. Now all I was missing was a pointy hat and a wart on my nose. “Unless you want me to tell the local ladies about Prince Fragrant Yellow Flower in the Happy Moonlight.”
He sent me a betrayed look. “You wouldn’t!”
My grin widened. “I absolutely would.”
“You…you…ifrit!”
“Why, thank you for the compliment.”
The sound of grinding teeth was music to my ears.
