"Hey Chuck," Lauren called, "I need you this afternoon, please."
Her bodyguard/driver/hitman put down his phone and gave her his full attention. "Of course, Miss Lauren," he said. "And where might we be going?"
Lauren was attempting to sound unconcerned as if this was a social call, and there was nothing to worry about. But the words came out with a forced sort of breathlessness that made her sound like a teenager asking to stay out after midnight on a school night. Hideous. "We're going to pick up Clara," she said, "and go pin down Arabella at her place. She ditched the last charity meeting." She could tell as she grabbed a jacket and a messenger bag that the idea was not sitting well with Chuck.
"I see," he said slowly. "And is Mr. Williams aware of your social outing?"
Her eyes narrowed challengingly, "He knows that I'm hanging out with the wives today," she said evasively. Chuck stared at her for far longer than was comfortable, and she was reminded that the man had had a daughter before, and was apparently good at breaking down even the most well-crafted of evasions. Still, she was a grown-up and Mrs. Thomas Williams, and she wasn't letting this one go. So, with a sigh, the man stood and helped her put on her jacket.
Clara was, if possible, even more nervous than she was, and it helped Lauren calm down a bit. It wasn't until they pulled up to the palatial front door of the Kingston's that she turned to Lauren with wide, anxious hazel eyes. "You think she's... she's OK, right?"
Lauren nodded firmly. "Of course, she is! She has a lot going on outside of the charity branch, you know that. She's just been busy."
The man who opened the front door did not look like a butler. He stared at them both coldly, clearly indifferent to the fact that these women were attached to the other two in the power structure at The Corporation. "Yes?" he said in an extremely unhelpful way.
Lauren gave him her best insincere social smile. "We're here to see Bella," she said a little aggressively. "We haven't met. I'm Lauren Williams and this is Clara, Mr. Fassell's fiancée. So if you’ll let Arabella know we are here, I'm sure she'll be delighted to see us." She leaned in slightly as she said it, attempting to look threatening. Looking back, she would realize how utterly ludicrous the attempt was, but the fact that Chuck stepped up behind her seemed to make the butler/thug give pause.
"Won't you come in," he said stiffly, "I'll see if Mrs. Kingston is available." And then he said the thing that Lauren had been dreading, the words that made her physically ill. "She hasn't been feeling well recently." As they stood in the hallway – Lauren noticed the butler/thug had not invited them to sit down – she tried to count back from the last time she had seen Arabella at that disastrous lunch with the Gray Man. Five weeks, give or take. She clenched her hands together tightly, trying not to shake. Clara couldn't see her freaking out; it would only scare the girl more. And Arabella was alive, at least they knew that. "Mrs. Kingston will see you now," the unpleasant man announced, clearly displeased they were bothering him.
Walking into the sumptuous living room, Lauren ignored the beautiful furnishings and a spectacular view of the lake behind the house. "Bella, we've missed you!" she started, "What's been-" Behind her, she could hear Clara try to swallow a startled gasp. Mrs. Kingston looked terrible: face bruised and heavily bandaged and more on her arms and wrapped around her chest, along with some kind of a brace. Lauren's eyes flooded with tears, oh God, that sick fuck Ben did this, he did this and she hadn't done anything to protect Arabella. She should've known that he would-
"Oh, stop with the dramatics, you two!" the chiding voice came from behind the bandages. Arabella attempted to smile and the effort was actually painful to watch. "I'm fine darlings, I just had some plastic surgery done over the holidays, just freshening up, you know."
"Freshening up?" repeated Clara doubtfully, still staring at the woman ensconced on the sofa surrounded by a multitude of pillows and blankets and her feet up.
"Yes," Arabella said firmly. "Why, what did you think? I'm not ready for a complete overhaul yet!" She laughed heartily.
Lauren forced her numb feet to move and headed for the sofa to very, very carefully kiss her friend on the cheek, squeezing her hand. "We really missed you, Bella," she murmured. She wanted to say more but both Chuck and the butler/thug were still in the room with them, watching everything carefully.
Squeezing her hand back, Arabella waved to her unwilling manservant, "Go get us some tea and some of those amazing little cheesecakes from yesterday."
Lauren was grateful she didn't call for wine, it was clear from her glassy eyes that the wife of Number One was still generously dosed with pain medication. She and Clara kept up a light patter, updating Arabella about the charity meetings and everything going on regarding the quasi-legal outskirts of The Corporation's activities. It seemed to take the older woman a bit of time to answer back, and Lauren could tell she had to think carefully about what to say. She wasn't sure if that was the medication or the awareness of their constant surveillance. Finally, she ventured, "When will you be um, unbandaged enough to come out with us? We could just take a few walks in a quiet stretch of the park until you're ready with your public face?"
Arabella's marked and bruised face lifted for a moment, looking right at Lauren with a suddenly lucid gaze. "Well, that would be-"
"Darling, I'm home!" To their mutual horror, the greasily fond tone of Number One echoed from the front hall. His expensive shoes clicked against the marble entryway as he headed unerringly for the great room in the back of the house. "Ah, there you are, Arabella. And with guests! The wives are alwayssoloyal." His insectile gaze included them all as his mouth stretched in a terrifying smile.
Lauren watched Arabella shrink into herself as her fists clenched without her knowing. But Kingston did, his grin stretching wider to see her so angry. "Hello, Ben. How was your day?" Bella's voice was monotone, almost robotic.
"Good, darling, good," the vile bastard answered, the faux soothing tone almost nauseating to hear. "How lovely that your friends havefinallycome to see you."
Feeling a stab of shame, Lauren realized he was right. Despite Thomas telling her to cut off contact and let things settle, she should have pushed it. She should have insisted on seeing Arabella and asking Thomas to intervene on her behalf. What happened that day was no one's fault. Remembering the older woman whispering, "Colin. he's much nicer than he seems. Please don't say anything- no need to upset our husbands, correct?"She called him by his first name...Lauren shook her head, that didn't mean anything. No one deserved what she was certain had happened to Number One's wife at the hand of her twisted husband. "You're right, Ben," she said clearly, "I should have been here sooner. Much sooner. I won't be so careless with my friendship with Bella again." From the corner of her eye, she could see Clara sitting motionless, like a rabbit hoping the hawk hasn't noticed it. There was the slightest hint of a throat being cleared behind her, and the girl knew it was Chuck. She had a feeling that if she turned around, her bodyguard would be wearing that same terrifying expression he had that day at the Connaught when things were so volatile that the slightest move could have sent guns blazing. "Well, we should get going, Clara," Lauren took a minute to make sure her voice wouldn't shake. Not in front of that black-eyed, black-hearted bastard. She would never give him what he wanted- her fear, her obedience. Leaning over to Arabella, she gave her friend a gentle kiss on the cheek. "But I'll be back. How does tomorrow sound?"
Number One's wife stirred briefly. "I don't- it depends on Ben's schedule- I..."
"No worries," Lauren stared at Kingston, whose fixed grin made him look even more terrifying, "I'll just keep checking back. And I'll ask Thomas to check in on Ben's schedule, too." She knew pulling her husband into this mess was an unwise decision, but she was using everything she had. "It won't be another five weeks, Bella. I promise."
As soon as the door closed behind them in the car, Clara burst into tears. "That wasn't a face-lift!" she wept, "He did something to Bella, didn't he? He hurt her, didn't he?"
Lauren sighed, putting an arm around the sobbing girl. "Probably a little of both, she-" swallowing down her breakfast that was trying to make its way back up her throat, she finished, "-she probably fixed some damage."
Clara was suddenly fierce, grabbing her by the arms and looking at her furiously. "How can you stand it? Why are we just accepting this? It's sick! It's evil and we're not doing anything and..." beginning to cry again, she didn't shrug loose when Lauren put her arm around her again, looking out the window as they left Kingston's long driveway and turned on to the street.
Back at home, Lauren found herself making that miserable circuit in the living room again. It was exactly twenty-one steps to the big, leaded-glass windows. Ten steps to the fireplace. Thirty-five steps to the front entryway again. Absently counting out loud as she paced her erratic triangle, she tried to think of how to convince her cold husband to intervene in something that was really, none of his business.
Her eyes closed with inexpressible relief when she heard his deep, resonant voice echo in the entryway.
"Darling? I'm home. How was your visit with the wives?"
