SHOPPING. I THOUGHT HE WAS kidding, but here we are in Bond Street; an exclusive shopping area in London. I wanted to keep a low profile but there’s no chance of doing that here. This is where people come to be seen.
“Ella, what’s wrong?” Connor asks, frowning at me.
“I’d have been happy mooching around a market today.”
“Babe, please humour me.”
I nod unconvincingly. I don’t want to be in and out of all these expensive shops, and I certainly won’t be buying anything, especially when money can be better spent elsewhere. He grabs my hand and we stroll along the street. The street is lined with some, if not the best designer shops in the world including Prada, Ralph Lauren, Chanel, and Louis Vuitton.
Relief fills me as we pass some of the exclusive designer stores. It’s funny how my attitude has changed recently; it wasn’t that long ago that these stores were where I would shop. Over the years, Julie and I would have girlie shopping weekends here in London. I never thought twice about the amount of money I would spend on clothes, or anything else, for that matter. Now, though, my attitude is changing.
I’m looking forward to my meeting during the week with the charity that Trevor has put me in touch with. It will be good to learn all about their aims and hear what help and assistance they need. Dad is coming with me because he wants to help too, and I’m more than happy to work alongside my dad to raise awareness and much needed funds for the charity.
Connor stops. “Come on, we’re going in here,” he says, standing outside Tiffany. The doorman smiles as he says, “Good afternoon,” before opening the door. I’ve been in this store a few times with my dad, who has very good taste when it comes to buying jewellery. The question on the tip of my lips is: why are we here?
An elegant lady walks toward us as soon as we enter. There’s not a strand of her hair out of place; she has the whole Audrey Hepburn look going on and pulls it off beautifully. “Afternoon. How can I help you today?” she asks looking at me, then at Connor. After a moment, she smiles, recognising us.
“Hi,” I reply with a smile. That’s all I can say because I don’t know why we’re here.
“Afternoon,” Connor finally says. “I do hope you can help me. I’m looking for something almost as beautiful as the woman beside me.”
“Anything in particular?” she asks, her perfect smile in place.
“Yes. No.” The woman walks toward one of the glass displays with Connor, both deep in conversation. I stay rooted to the spot, watching him. He turns back, expecting me to have moved, but I can’t. “Ella, what’s wrong?” He rushes back to me.
“Why are we here?”
“Because I want to treat you. You deserve to be spoiled and I plan on doing that. I wanted to get you a surprise but then thought it would be nice to do this together. So here we are.”
I’m a bit taken aback. The only men who have ever bought me jewellery are my dad and Callum. In five years together, Donovan never bought me so much as a pair of earrings. “Come on. I have an idea of what I’d like to get but I want to make sure you like it too. No arguments, either. I know what you’re like.” He takes my hand, gently pulling me toward the assistant.
We’re in front of a stunning bracelet display. The woman has already taken a few items out and has them on the glass counter before us. “Madam, do you have a preference? A cuff or a full bracelet?”
“Please, call me Ella, and no preference.”
“Okay, Ella. May I?” she asks, reaching for my hand and proceeding to turn my hand over and study my wrist. “I personally think a cuff, but you are more than welcome to try on both types.” I glance down at my wrist and wonder if she’s making that up.
I glance at the bracelets; none come with a price tag, which usually wouldn’t bother me, but after everything, I’m not happy with Connor wanting to spend lots of money on me. Especially when, these days, I wouldn’t spend it on myself.
This is getting ridiculous. I need to put the past behind me and move on and not feel guilty about spending money.
“Ella . . .”
I turn to Connor. “Sorry. I was a million miles away.”
“It’s fine. If you can’t pick, I will.”
“You pick.”
I watch him pick up several bracelets and look them over before putting them all back down. “Can we try this one?” He picks up a gorgeous white gold and diamond cuff.
“Of course.” The assistant gently puts it on my wrist, smiling proudly when she stands back, allowing Connor and me to admire it. It is exquisite. “The Tiffany Infinity is a powerful symbol of continuous connection, energy, and vitality. The round diamonds add a heightened level of impact to this already striking design. It’s 18k white gold and the Carat weight is .39,” she tells us.
When I look at Connor, his eyes are sparkling with happiness; this is the one he wants to buy. It’s gorgeous and I love it. “We’ll take it,” Connor says softly, looking at me. I nod with a smile.
“Perfect. Let me box it for you.” I wander around the store, looking at all the stunning pieces of jewellery, leaving Connor with the assistant. I can hear them talking but don’t pay attention.
“Are you ready?” Connor asks, slipping one hand into mine and handing me the bag in the other.
“Yes, and thank you. Not just for this, or today, but for just being you and being here for me. For reminding me of the person I was.”
“You don’t have to say thank you to me ever, but . . .” He presses his lips to mine. “You are more than welcome to show your gratitude when we’re back at the hotel,” he whispers. Shivers lace my back at his words. Words I’ll gladly take him up on.
We say goodbye and leave the store. It’s only about a ten-minute walk from here to our hotel in Piccadilly and it’s still a nice afternoon. We’ve covered more than a few miles today, but it’s been relaxing. Nothing about today has been rushed. I’m glad we didn’t make any firm plans to do anything. A show would’ve been nice but I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together and now I’m looking forward to our evening.
We walk in silence, still hand-in-hand, offering each other a warm smile when we get caught glancing at the other. Each time I look his way, I see something else I like in the man I’m spending more and more of my time with.
We’re almost at the hotel; I can see the flags above the main entrance and the doorman standing outside talking to someone, when cold shivers run down my spine. My racing heart feels as though it could explode at any moment. I freeze and close my eyes. My body shakes.
“Ella. Ella, what’s wrong?” I hear Connor’s voice and I know he’s standing in front of me, gripping onto my shoulders, but as I open my eyes, I don’t see him. I don’t see anything, but I sense there’s someone watching me again. I search around and behind us, but still see nothing, or no-one. “Ella, talk to me. Shit, you’re pale.”
“He’s here, somewhere. I can feel him.” The words leave me in a whispered rush. The hazy cloud that was blurring my vision leaves me and I see the panic on Connor’s face as he watches me.
He looks around us, searching, “Ella, there’s no-one here. He’s not here. Come on. Let’s get into the hotel.”
I try to move my legs but they’re not working. I’m dizzy and my legs are weak. Everything around us is moving by too quickly and I can’t process what’s happening to me. Images of Donovan flash through my mind. He’s standing behind me, laughing at my inability to run. All I see is black spots before me. My body sways and I can’t stop it from sinking. The weight is pulling me down. I try to take in a deep breath, but there’s no oxygen for me to breathe. There’s nothing. Only darkness.
“No, you don’t. I have you.”
He lifts me into his arms as though I’m weightless. I bury my face into his chest, wanting to hide myself from any onlookers who may have noticed my panic attack in the middle of a street in London. Voices I don’t know are around us, asking if everything is okay, asking Connor if he needs help. Pain consumes my entire body as he walks briskly toward the hotel.
“Mr Andrews, can I help?” I open my eyes and see the concerned look of the doorman. I don’t need anyone to see me like this.
“I only need help with the lifts.”
“Of course.” Silence fills the air until I hear the ping of the lift. Footsteps ring loudly in my ears and hushed voices speak around me. I sense the movement of the lift and my body wriggles in Connor’s hold. I want him to let me go. I don’t want him or anyone to see me right now.
Pushing my hands against his chest, I attempt to wriggle from his hold, but he only grips onto me tighter.
A door opens and lights are switched on. I open my eyes to see we’re in our suite. Connor still has me in his arms and walks toward the bedroom. He gently lowers me to the bed and I close my eyes because we’re not alone in the room. “Please, I want to be on my own,” I whimper, turning my back to even Connor.
“Sorry, Ella. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Mr Andrews, I think we should get a doctor for the cut on her hand. It looks as though there’s something in it.”
“Can you arrange for a doctor to come here?”
“Consider it done.” I hear heavy footsteps crossing the carpeted floor.
“Ella, it’s only you and me now. Talk to me, please. I can’t help or understand if you don’t explain.”
I turn over and lie on my back. His eyes are sad; he’s clearly unsettled by what’s happening. “That wasn’t the first time I’ve felt strange, as though someone’s watching me. I know you must think I’m crazy, but honestly, I’m not. I know he was near.”
“I believe you,” he says, stroking the side of my face. His attention soon turns to my hand. “It does look as though there’s something in this cut. Maybe just a small stone.” My eyes follow his and he might be right. I should get up and attempt to clean it.
My phone buzzing has me scanning the room for my handbag. Connor bends down and picks it up from the floor. He takes my phone and stares at the screen, his eyes wide, looking in disbelief. I already know it’s either a call or message from Donovan.
“Tell me?”
“He’s sent some pictures of today. A few from Kensington Park, the restaurant, and from outside in the street.”
I grab my phone from his hands and swipe through each of the pictures. My lips tremble and I can’t form any words. What is he hoping to achieve from this? My hand shakes as I get to the last picture; me in Connor’s arms as he carries me back to the safety of our hotel.
But is our hotel safe? Why do I feel as though I’m being punished? I’ve not done anything wrong. Or have I?
“Trevor, can you come to the hotel? . . . We have a problem . . . Donovan fucking Bell.” I look at Connor through my tear-filled eyes. “I’ll forward you what Ella has been sent.”
My phone beeps in my hand and I open the message from Donovan. No pictures, only his words.
Not so strong now. I’ve been keeping my eye on you and will continue to do so. You don’t belong to him.
You have and will always belong to me.
Connor snatches the phone from my hands and reads the message. “Ella, he’s playing games. He can’t hurt you,” he says, joining me on the bed and wrapping his arms protectively around me, but I’m not feeling safe and his words aren’t helping my growing fears.
Donovan is going to do whatever he can to hurt me and that alone frightens me.