He's Captured My Trust (Captured Series Book 2) (26 page)

I stroll through the busy hospital, with people dashing about, and head back outside to call Michael. He answers straight away.

“Any news?” I ask hopefully.

“Uh, Libby, can I call you back?” He hesitates. There’s a lot of background noise.

“Yeah, sure.”

With that he hangs up and I am still no closer to knowing anything. I can’t put my finger on it, but he didn’t sound like himself. I suppose he’s still working.
Probably just busy,
I tell myself. But I don’t have a good feeling. I walk back toward the room and hear a loud and upset Lucy crying her little lungs out. Relief sweeps through me. I open the door to find Ethan pacing the floor with her in his arms, a nurse at his side.

“I’ll go and get you a bottle. Maybe some milk will help soothe her,” the nurse says as she exits the room.

Ethan looks at me as I stand in the doorway watching, admiring. “Right. Libby, your turn,” he says with a look that says
please help.
I walk toward them and put my arms out to the beautiful girl who means the world to each person in the room. She will always have a special place in our hearts. I take her and her tiny body fights restlessly with me until I start singing to her.

I pause, noticing that the room is silent. I look around and three sets of eyes are focused on me, Mum’s filled with tears. Lucy is silent in my arms as she watches me and smiles. I cradle her tighter and return to singing.

“COME, LIBBY, WE’LL DROP YOU
at the flat on our way home. And I’m not taking no for an answer; you need to try and get some sleep,” Dad tells me as he stands up and stretches.

I glance at Ethan, who has Lucy lying in his arms, sleeping. She fell asleep there as soon as she had some milk. “Don’t worry about me,” he says, sensing my reluctance to leave him. “I’ll be fine, and anyway, Tom and Moria are coming in shortly. They’ve been away for a few days and on their way home. So go home and get some rest.” Tom and Moria are Lindsay’s parents, and they’ve been through a lot this year as well. Moria was a bit worried that Ethan would shut them out of his and Lucy’s lives in an attempt to move on. But she had nothing to worry about. He needs them as much as they need both of them.

I walk over and kiss Lucy’s soft head before giving Ethan a kiss.

“Thank you, sis,” he says.

“You don’t need to thank me,” I tell him, because it’s true. I’ll always be here when he needs me. “I love you.”

We leave the room, my brother happier than the first time I saw him today. My mum links her arm with mine, and, as I look at her, I realise how lucky Ethan and I are to have her. She’s not just Mum to me; she’s also my best friend—the one who will always be honest and open with me.

“Tomorrow when you’re rested, why don’t we go for lunch? Then you can tell me everything. I won’t press tonight, but I do think you should talk about it.” Her voice is low, and there is sadness etched in those beautiful eyes.

“Yes, Mum. Why don’t you come to the hotel then?”

“Perfect.”

“Any news on Alex?” My dad asks the one question I am desperate for an answer to.

“No, Michael was a bit vague, even when I called him earlier. And truthfully, I don’t think I want to know tonight. It can’t be good news. Otherwise I would have heard by now. I’m going to go home, pour a glass of wine, maybe phone for pizza, and then, I hope, get some much-needed sleep.”

“Why don’t we stop off and pick a takeaway pizza up on the way? We could do with something to eat as well,” my mother tells me as we walk toward the exit, where I know Mark will be waiting with the car.

I OPEN THE DOOR OF
my flat, leave my suitcase in the hallway, and walk through to the kitchen, where I set the pizza box on the countertop. God, it has been a long few days. I’m hoping I finally get some sleep, because if I don’t, I will be no good to anyone. I put some music on because the flat is too quiet before pouring a glass of Prosecco from the fridge. Prosecco and pizza—not exactly a healthful option, but it works for me tonight.

I take my shoes off, leaving them in the middle of the kitchen floor. I don’t have the energy to even move them. I grab a clean T-shirt and shorts from my ironing pile and change, throwing my clothes into the laundry basket, which is more than half full. I should put a load in, but it can wait until the morning. I take the pizza and wine and go into the living room. My sofa looks comfy, with my warm, fluffy throw lying on it. I head toward it, and I immediately know I won’t make it upstairs to my bedroom.

I turn the music off and switch on the television, if only for a distraction, and curl up with some pizza. I’ve left my phone charging in the kitchen, where it can stay. I’m not in a hurry to speak with anyone.

It’s almost perfect just sitting here. But it could be more than perfect if a certain someone was here with me. Instead I’m trying to push all my fears and confusion about Alex to the back of my mind. During the flight home, dear little Lucy was the only thing on my mind, but now that I’ve seen her and the doctors have said she’s going to be fine, I can at least contain my worry.

But Alex brings out all my fears and confusion even without the situation he currently finds himself in. The man I have fallen deeply for is in another country dealing with God knows what, and I’m struggling to deal with all the emotions that are sweeping over me. I’m hoping I’ll feel slightly better after I’ve slept for a bit, but I doubt I will.

I close my eyes for the briefest of moments and take in a deep breath. I swear I can smell him. His scent lingers on my skin even after all these hours. I can almost feel his touch on my sensitive skin or his fingers running through my hair. Am I just longing for him?

Of course I am. He gives me a purpose that has been missing for a long time, even if I hadn’t noticed. Maybe I won’t bother showering so I can still feel like he is with me, even though we’re separated by miles and an ocean.

The television is on with a roundup of the weekend’s football statistics, but I have no interest in it whatsoever. But it’s funny. If Alex were here with me, he would be keeping up on the matches and the ins and outs of the Scottish Football League, if only to keep up with whomever he’s doing business with.

I wish I knew what was going on. Maybe I should try Michael again? But he did say he would call me.

I yawn as I put my glass down on the table and close the lid on the pizza box. I wriggle until I get in just the right position on the couch, pulling the throw over me as a blanket. I know it won’t be too long before sleep takes over my body. My only hope is that I don’t have any nightmares to go with it.

My eyelids slowly close and my thoughts go straight to Alex. His warm touch soothes my skin when I’m lying next to him, but tonight, there’s nothing. There will be no loving touch, no soft kisses around my neck, no strong arms wrapped around me, keeping me safe from harm. I drift off into a troubled sleep.

I awaken in a blind panic, fear ripping through me. Crippling pain surges through me. I try to bring my eyes to focus on something—anything—away from the nightmare that has woken me. I knew it was too much to expect to not have a nightmare, but this one was much worse than usual. It was the same—about Jeff and that day—but this was different, because it wasn’t Jeff’s face that hovered above me as he attacked me. It was Alex’s.

I swing my legs off the couch and sit with my head in my hands, trying to shake off the nightmare that has completely taken hold of me. I tell myself it’s all because of what is happening with Alex and Katherine.

The room is filled with light. It’s morning and I’ve managed to get more than a few hours’ sleep. At least that’s something. I might have enough energy to make it through the day, whatever life decides to throw at me.

My last thought barely leaves my mind when I realise the television is still on. Low and behold, who is staring at me but Alex and that
fuckin
g woman. I grab the remote control and turn the volume up. If I can take anything from the fact that the two are together, it’s that she looks bloody awful. This is not the glamorous woman who usually graces television or the papers.

Alex is giving a statement to the press. “I would appreciate Miss Hunter being given the time to receive treatment. I trust she will not be hounded by you, the media. She needs time, but most of all she needs the support and love of her family and friends.”

I have no idea what to make of all this. At least I know he hasn’t been charged with anything—or maybe he has. But why wouldn’t Michael phone and give me an update? Unless . . . Unless what? I don’t know what to think.

“Mr. Mathews, what about Miss Stewart?”
A reporter throws
the question at him, and I am more than a little curious about how he’ll answer it.

I stare at the screen, willing him to say something. But the longer I stare, the more certain I am that he isn’t going to say anything. His expression is unreadable, blank. He puts his hand on Katherine’s shoulder, urging her to move toward a waiting car, presumably Murphy’s.

“Mr. Mathews, can you answer the question?”

“No comment.”
That’s all he says. Nothing more as he ushers Katherine into the waiting car. I stare at the screen, a thousand thoughts going through my mind.

“There we have it,” the newscaster says. “Miss Hunter will be treated in a private hospital where she’ll undergo therapy that she probably should have had many years ago. Mr. Mathews must care a lot for her to stand by her side, considering the awful allegations she made against him. Will this mean the end to what was promising to be a glittering Hollywood career before it’s really started? And where does that leave the beautiful Miss Stewart after her public declaration of love for him when she arrived at the Glasgow airport, returning home to see to her sick baby niece?”

I’ve heard it, but I can’t quite believe it. I knew she made it all up. Poor Alex. Poor Sarah. She must’ve been going out of her mind with worry about her son. But what does his “no comment” mean for us?

I fight the urge to call him and demand answers, but I can’t when I see the time. It’s going on eight, which means it’s only three in the morning in New York. He’ll hear from me sooner rather than later if he doesn’t call first. I need to go and shower because I must stink by now. But first I take the pizza box and wine into the kitchen. I put all the rubbish into the bins and pour a large glass of orange juice.

I pick my shoes up from the floor and grab my phone before heading upstairs. I want to feel clean before going to visit Lucy.

This place is great, really it is, but it does feel too big for me and makes me wonder if I did the right thing. It always seems so quiet. Too quiet. But when Alex gets here in two weeks, I’m sure it won’t be quiet for long, especially now that I know Murphy and Joan are coming as well. That is, if Alex is still coming.

I throw my phone on the bed and dig about my closet, looking for clothes. I find my grey, fitted trouser suit and a black top, which will go with the shoes I’ve dropped on the floor. Perfect for work and for a lunch date with my mum.

I catch my reflection in the mirror as I enter the bathroom. God, I would scare even the dead looking like this. I spend too long standing under the cascading water hoping that the water will wash away all my fears before I start washing my hair. And boy, does it need washing. It’s full of knots, as though someone twirled it all night.

With that last thought, Alex is back in the forefront of my mind. I put the shampoo into my hands and start to work it through my hair and lathering it up. What is it about Katherine? Why can’t he walk away from her now, especially after all she has done to him? I finish rinsing my hair with thoughts of Alex still firmly in my mind. I plan to call him as soon as I’m ready, because I can’t wait any longer to find out what’s going on.

I emerge from the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around me to the sound of my phone beeping away. I walk over and sit down on the bed. Shit. There are loads of messages and a few missed calls. Michael, Kirsty, and Kieran. I notice that Alex hasn’t even tried to call. Is he trying to make me angry with him?

I call Michael first and he answers straight away, which surprises me, considering they are five hours behind.