Beth opens her bottom drawer and pulls out three glasses and a bottle of brandy. She pours two fingers in each glass and passes one to each of us. I sniff it, and pull my head away instantly, spirits have never been my favorite drink, but I’ll give it a shot.
Denham knocks his back and Beth tops it up again for him. He’s not so hasty to drink it this time. He seats himself in my office chair opposite Beth, and places his elbows on the table, running his hands along the sides of his head, through his hair.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“Good. Now tell me what the problem is.”
“Did you see the person that delivered the rose to Arianna today?”
“I caught a glimpse of a courier on a bike. Nothing out of the ordinary. Why?”
“Well, I didn’t send that courier.”
“Right, so Arianna has an admirer,” Beth says, raising one brow in question.
I stand close but watch the exchange as if they weren’t talking about me or as if I wasn’t even here.
“That’s what I’m worried about. Did Ari tell you about her ex?”
“Denham, I’m not Oprah fucking Winfrey. She’s here to do a job.”
“Well, you saw the bruising the first day you met her. That was one of the exes.”
“Hang on here a minute,” I interrupt, “one of the exes? You make it sound like there’s a whole string of them. There are two exes. Two. In my whole life, just two,” I snap, resentful at the tone he used to describe my past.
Denham winces and tries to find the words to dig himself out of this hole but can’t seem to manage it.
“Look, Denham. I know you’re worried,” my voice softens, “but, really, it could have been from anyone, maybe it was for one of the other girls and the delivery guy was mistaken?” I ask.
“Well … I suppose …”
“I mean, I thought it was from you after all of the others you sent, but—”
“What did you just say?” he asks in a dangerously low voice.
“Uh…” I look nervously between Denham and Beth. “I thought…” oh shit…
“You were sent others?” he asks, rising slowly from his chair.
“Yes,” I answer in a small voice that’s now starting to quiver. Not because he’s scaring me, it’s because it’s just dawned on me that all the others weren’t from him. The glass drops from my hand, and my purse follows, spilling the contents across the floor of the office.
Then Denham is in front of me, holding my shoulders and crouching to look directly into my eyes “When? When, Arianna? And where are they?”
“Every day,” I whisper. “Every day, a new rose would appear in my room. I thought…” The breath catches in my throat. “I-I thought they were from you.”
“Fuck.” He curses under his breath, then roars, “Fuuuuck!”
“Denham.” Beth tries the calm reasonable approach, but it’s clear that even she is worried about the reaction he’s had to this. Denham paces back and forth, a few steps at a time before turning in the opposite direction; he runs his hands through his hair and rubs the back of his neck in agitation, then turns to look in my direction.
“Fucking hell, Arianna. You didn’t think to tell me? How am I supposed to keep you safe when you don’t tell me things?” He uses a tone that I’ve not been on the receiving end of before, and I don’t like it. In fact, it makes me want to cry. The whole situation makes me want to cry, and I press my lips together tight to hold it all in. I’m pretty sure I know who the roses are from, and the reason I know this, is that there isn’t anyone else that would do something so fucked up. It makes me feel sick to my stomach to think that I admired those seemingly innocent flowers, presuming they were a token of affection, and thoughtfulness. Well, it seems that someone put some thought into them, and I can’t bring myself to think about what that means from here on in.
Denham grabs my shoulders. “You didn’t think I’d want to know that someone sent you flowers? Do you know who sent them? Was it one of your exes?”
It makes my stomach drop to hear him say it like I’m a black widow, and there’s a whole string of men behind me. Men that I’ve left in such a way, that they all come looking for me and want me back. “I didn’t know it was…I didn’t know,” I plead with himto believe me. I’m so angry with myself for not making the effort to say thank you to him for sending them, we could have been clued in way before now. But I don’t deserve to be yelled at. Hell, I don’t deserve any of this.
“Fucking hell, Arianna,” he roars through frustration, the brandy on his breath coming at me fast and forcing the tears I’m trying to hold back, to come to the surface.
I’m about to let out a torrent of retaliation, it’s the first time that I’ve felt angry at him and I resent the fact that he’s made me feel that way about him, but Beth flies out of her seat and is between us in a flash. She pushes Denham back with her hand on his chest. “Now, that is enough. I won’t have you talk to her like that, King. Sit down, take a few deep breaths and let’s talk this out.”
