“No, I’m not sure I can, never mind you,” I reply with the doors for my lift already closing.
It takes an eternity to reach the ground floor where there is a small crowd in reception.
“Olivia,” I whisper but as the crowd disperses, I see one of the security team, a large, muscular man of a similar age to me sitting down, winded and clutching his chest. “Where is she?” I already know she’s gone.
“She took me by surprise,” he tells me seriously.
“What? She is all of five feet six and nine and a half stone tops, how the fuck did she surprise you?” I am absolutely furious with this man, Arianna, Olivia, but most of all myself.
“I was restraining her and somehow she turned and hit me in the solar plexus, with her palm, the hard bit at the bottom, it’s knocked me sick,” he tells me seriously. “She’s quite wily,” he adds to his defence. “Like a whippet.”
“You are kidding me! You are employed to secure this place and the people in it, but a young woman of her size outwits and outfits you.” I sigh in exasperation before replaying his account of events. “What do you mean you were restraining her? Were you told that you could lay a finger on her?” I have an almost overwhelming urge to hit him in the solar plexus myself. “And don’t ever call her a whippet again, she is not a dog, oh, and never, ever lay a hand on her or your solar plexus will be the least of your problems, do you understand?” I somehow sound much calmer than I feel.
“Mase?” Arianna says from her position exiting the lift.
“Gone, she was too wily for Rambo here and managed to overpower him,” I spit sarcastically.
“What?” Arianna queries, looking at the burly man staggering to his feet.
“I know. What now?”
“Her things must be in her bag,” she replies.
“Of course,” I say and startle my ex-wife with a kiss to her cheek as I get back into my lift because I need car keys if I am going to return Olivia’s belongings and that is precisely what I intend to do.
Chapter 6
Olivia
How could I have been so stupid to have fallen for the charm again today? I almost kissed him, again, and he drugged me. At least that’s what I tell myself as I run to the station, but even I’m not convinced that the blame and responsibility lies solely at Mason’s feet for the kiss or the drugs.
I hope the security man is okay because I know he was probably only acting under orders, Mason’s or his wife’s so that they could silence me. I realise how paranoid I sound and how crazy, but I had no idea he was married and certainly not to her, Arianna, who I was taken in by too. I must be more stupid than even I give myself credit for, and I am usually quite generous in regard to that.
I get to the station with tired, aching feet making me realise I am still wearing my boots and my bag is not on me.
“Bollocks!”
My shoes, coat and house keys are in my bag which is still in Mason’s flat, but I can’t go back for them. Fortunately, my phone is in my trouser pocket, so I call Sarah, my friend.
“Hey there,” she answers excitedly.
“Sarah,” I manage to say and then let out a sob before attempting to explain my current lack of shoes, keys, coat or purse I now realise.
“Get a cab from the station and come to mine. I’m home all day and I’ll cover your cab fare.”
I sob again, but this one is of gratitude rather than desperation.
Sarah lives with Jed in a three-bedroom house on a new estate a couple of miles from my flat. She is forever telling me it will be their family home, for them and their children when they come along.
She is a couple of years older than me at twenty-five but her idea that you can make a commitment to one person at that age and somehow know they are yours forever, that nobody else will come along and turn your head or capture your heart scares me. That thought just reminds me that some sick bastards do get married and still have their head turned like Mason and Arianna. God, he slept with me, not just a bit of flirting in a club, but full on sex.
Sarah is the sister of a former boyfriend but when he and I split we remained close and became best friends. She is different to me, the opposite, she’s tall and skinny with pale eyes and short blonde hair, like chalk and cheese but it works for us.
I must look a state to the cab driver, but he says nothing as he navigates his way around the one-way system that operates near Sarah’s home and before I can think any more about Mason we’re pulling up in front of her house. She greets me with a hug and hands the fare to the driver before ushering me into her house for a little TLC and lots of questions.
I am on my second or third cup of tea by the time I tearfully add the final details about Mason and Arianna, oh and the security man.
“Maybe it wasn’t what you thought if he tried to stop you leaving,” she suggests, startling me because Sarah is protective and takes no shit from anyone.
