Page 59 of London's Calling: Part 1
I storm through the suite to the bedroom, quickly changing into something that doesn’t scream emotional wreck and patch up my tear-stained face. I give myself a mental shake.
“You can do this. It’s just like any other time you’ve had to put on a show. Just get through tonight, then…” I shake it off and head downstairs.
The rest of the day passes in a blur, and I’ve barely had time to catch my breath trying to make sure everything is ready. Standing back to admire the room, I finally breathe. It’s deep, full of apprehension and…and a mix of guilt and fear. Something I’ve become accustomed to over the last few years. Not that I’d ever show it. That shit I keep locked up tight to deal with in my own time and alone.
That is until recently I realise. Mickey has softened the edges, the spiked exterior ready to spear anyone who gets too close. Who would have believed the man the word hate was invented for, the very definition of rancour, would be the one to melt my inner iceberg, ripping through the hull and slipping into the depths below.
“Miss Hart…Miss Hart?”
A hand on my shoulder startles me and has me twirling to face the young woman, who I now realise had been calling my name.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I wanted to check you’re happy with everything before I leave.”
I’m nodding as I begin walking toward the exit. “Yes, it looks great. Thank you, Trudy.”
My father may have given me free rein on the arrangements and guests but the venue was non-negotiable. It’s not like he’d miss an opportunity to line his own pockets and so, tonight, the Strobe Ballroom and the adjacent hotel are at my disposal.
I head back to my suite to get ready only when I open the door, I find my father and Clayton waiting for me.
“Veronica, happy birthday!” my father says, stepping forward as I nervously step further into the room. He greets me a little overly enthusiastically, further raising my fears and suspicions.
“Daddy. Clayton.” I backtrack and skirt around them as they both stand there watching me. “I wasn’t expecting to see you both until tomorrow at lunch.”
Clayton smirks, and it sends a bolt of fear through me. “You didn’t really think I’d miss your party, did you?”
Chapter Forty-Two
Mickey
I left Roni’s late last night, after fucking her into a semi coma, and aside from some residual pain, my wound is healing well. Other than that, I’m on top of the world. I’ve spent the last week with Roni and most of that either buried to the hilt inside her or making her come all over her apartment. I literally cannot get enough of her.
But something is bothering me. Where is Clayton? I know she’s been taking his calls, but the man himself is worryingly absent. As is her father. He might be allowing her to have this party tonight, but I’m under no illusion this is for her benefit. Franklin Hart always has an ulterior motive. Nothing he does comes for free, and the cost will be high.
I turn as the front door opens, and the apartment is filled with the raucous laughter from Priest and Fletch.
“Do you arseholes ever do anything quietly,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Chill out. It’s party time,” Fletch says, slapping me on the back as he strides passed me, heading for the kitchen.
Priest steps up to me. “You’re sure this is a good idea?”
“I don’t fucking know.” I shrug. “Can’t be worse than getting stabbed, right? Besides, she assured me Daddy and Clayton won’t be there.”
“And you trust that? Come on, man, she’s a Hart.” I level him with a scowl, and he holds his hands up in surrender. “Just saying.”
“Well don’t. And don’t be a hypocrite. You guys were with her the other night.” Yeah, I heard about that, and I was more than pissed to find out she’d gone out with them, even though Fletch told me she left pretty early. That explains why she was home when I got there, bleeding out all over her hall.
“We aren’t fucking her though,” Fletch says as he joins us, carrying beers for us all.
“You can just as easily find yourself going back out that door, Fletch!” I take the beer he’s holding out to me.
“Lighten the fuck up. I’m just messing with you.” He rolls his eyes, lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a mouthful.
“Did Ike get back to you?” Priest asks, changing the subject.
“No and makes me wonder if he didn’t have something to do with what happened to me.” I head into the lounge and sit down.
“Nah, I don’t think he’d be stupid enough to ruin a second chance at getting your dad behind him.”
