Counterpoints Book 3 Read online

  “I thought our conversation in Toronto had served its purpose” he said, ignoring her greeting.

  “It did. I didn’t say a word about what happened in Cannes” Isabella told him and held his stare.

  His eyes, so hard on her, so severe, were difficult to face. Even the most innocent of innocents would have shaken a little.

  It was the look of a man who wanted answers.

  About me and Christopher.

  “Don’t play dumb with me” he sat up straight and moved a little closer “The conversation wasn’t just about Cannes. It was about trust. Wasn’t it?”

  Isabella stood still, her face expressionless.

  “You said you didn’t trust me” Isabella reminded him.

  “Exactly. And I was right” he snorted, a bitter smile appeared on his lips. “What is it that you want, Isabella?”

  She shook her head, her eyes stayed on him.

  “Cut the crap and make it quick. I don’t have time for this. Let’s hear it” he leaned on the chair again, like it was normal what he had just said, what he had just implied.

  Isabella was after something, he was sure of it. Maybe money, maybe success, a little popularity.

  It didn’t matter. In situations like that one, the best thing was to know who you were dealing with straight away. And sort the issue as soon as possible.

  “Excuse me?” Isabella shook her head a little.

  “Money? Minute of fame? Or is there something else you want to tell me?” he glared at her, his glacial, blue eyes piercing hers, hoping to break her and hear the truth.

  Alfred wanted her to say it, to admit it herself what he already knew.

  “There is absolutely nothing I want to tell you. Because there is absolutely nothing I want from you, from anybody” Isabella’s lips settled in a thin line with determination.

  She had spoken her mind, for the first time she had told him exactly what she was thinking. No filters, no diplomacy, no kindness.

  “Look, I don’t know what’s going on and what you are used to dealing with, but…” she began to say, but Alfred cut right in.

  “I am used to people like YOU. Profiteers, leeches, gold diggers” he said every word slowly, his tone so pungent it dug a wound in Isabella’s chest.

  She sat there in silence, searching for the right words to make him see how wrong he was about her, failing to see a way out.

  Whatever I say, he won’t believe me. I’ve been sentenced already.

  Alfred rubbed his chin and looked sideways, doing his best to keep his temper at bay.

  “Don’t give me that angel face. Just tell me what the hell you want. I know what you are doing, I know people like you”

  “You are wrong about me” she informed him, her voice steady but Isabella could feel the veins in her neck tense.

  She closed her hands into fists under the table, outraged for being treated the way Mr. Jenkins was treating her.

  The way he has always treated me, really.

  “I knew you weren’t to be trusted, that innocent face, that humble look of yours. It might have worked with Christopher, but you never fooled me” then he leaned closer, his eyes menacing. “Tell me one thing, are you in this together?”

  “What are you talking about?” she gaped at him, her eyes wide.

  “If this is her doing, I want to know. I want you to stop working for MB from tomorrow and I’ll give you anything reasonable you ask of” he kept his face straight “On condition you stop seeing Christopher this instant. Ask what you want and make it quick, I haven’t got time to waste after people like you”

  “I have no idea what the hell you are talking about” Isabella raised her voice a little, her face dark. “What is going on here?”

  “You tell me. What do you two want? You have all you need, just leave Christopher alone. You parasites can run along and make money with someone else”

  And she snapped.

  Isabella stood up, just as the waiter was approaching them to take orders. Isabella waved him off, trying to be as polite as possible- anger and resentment pulsing in her veins- and then turned to look at Mr. Jenkins again.

  “You know what?” she grabbed her bags with one hand and her suitcase with the other “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you be so disrespectful to me. But just so we are clear, I am not leaving MB, nor walking away from Christopher and I don’t want anything”

  Isabella turned but Alfred Jenkins stood up too and grabbed her arm.

  His hand on her skin made her even angrier for some reason. This man that had just insulted her was reaching out to her.

  She turned, a look of death written all over her face.

  “Remember this, I offered you the easy way out. You refused. I’ll destroy you and that bitch. You tell her that” and he let go of her arm, a little rougher than he had meant to, but it was clear there were two people angry and upset in that coffee place.

  For different reasons, for reasons that were irreconcilable.

  Just when Isabella thought her day couldn’t get any worse, it did. It actually did.

  She walked towards her flat from the tube station, anxious to see if there were any photographers waiting for her outside.

  Ridiculous it can’t be, it’s been three days and they know exactly where I have been, so why would they wait for me here?

  She walked quickly, hoping it might do her good to let off some steam, after the unbelievable conversation with Mr. Jenkins.

  Nothing, it didn’t work. It kept coming back to her, every single word, every single detail and the anger was growing out of proportion.

  Asshole, fucking asshole.

  That was when she made a terrible mistake. Isabella tried to comfort herself with a very innocent, common thought.

  It can’t get any worse than this.

  Of course it could have gotten worse than that. And it did.

  Approximately ten photographers were waiting outside her building and three police officers were standing outside the door, one was going inside.

  “Excuse me, sir” she walked to the door, through the journalists.

  They recognized her instantly and suddenly it was just clicks and people calling her name for attention.

  Isabella stumbled her way through, without saying a word, and walked up to the first police officer at the door.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “I’m Isabella Bresciani, I live on the first floor” she mumbled and looked in the stairwell, hoping to see Mrs. William somewhere.

  “Please follow me, miss” he let her through the door and up the stairs “My colleague is questioning your neighbor”

  “Why? What happened?”

  A woman police officer stood in the corridor, next to a shaken Mrs. Williams, who smiled at the sight of Isabella and then started to weep.

  “Mrs. Williams, what is going on?” Isabella reached out for her bony hand.

  “I’m so sorry darling. I didn’t notice, didn’t hear them come in. They must have drugged me or something, I woke up with a headache…”

  “What happened?” Isabella pressed on, nervous to find out what the commotion was all about.

  “Somebody broke into your apartment” the female police officer said.

  “What?” Isabella gaped, incredulous.

  Then, she marched to her door and saw it was open, wide open, and her studio flat had been turned upside down.

  Broken glass was all over the floor, curtains were down and the mattress had been tossed to the ground. It looked as if a tornado had gone by, leaving everything eerily out of place. And broken.

  Oh, my God.

  “Miss, would you like to sit down?” the police officer offered her a chair and Isabella nodded. She slumped on it and looked around, distressed.

  “Please take your time to answer the question, but do you think there is anything missing?” he asked and offered some water.

  Isabella took it and thanked the p
oliceman.

  How could she answer that? It was impossible to be sure if anything had been taken in that mess.

  “I don’t know. I have to tidy the room first” she mumbled, still in shock.

  It wasn’t about things going missing. She had no valuables in her flat.

  It was more about her stuff being touched by strangers, foreign hands in her house, on her clothes.

  Two pair of underwear hung on a chair, like they had been thrown from the drawer, in the eagerness to search it.

  I have to wash everything, clean everything.

  Isabella felt exposed and shocked, her intimacy violated.

  “Is there anyone you want to call?” the female police officer asked.

  Isabella nodded but really her mind was elsewhere. She was scanning the room for her things and asserting the damage.

  I can’t call Christopher. He’s at the doctor running tests all morning.

  Isabella dug into her bag and got hold of her phone, her hand shaky.

  She dialed the number and heard it ring, while she scanned the room again still incredulous.

  “Hi darling” Hillary’s voice sounded in her ear.

  She was the only person Isabella knew she could count on. Hillary would know how to help, what to do.

  “Hi, Hillary. I know we were supposed to meet at the photo shoot in an hour, but something just happened and I might run a little late” and Isabella informed her of her morning surprise, of how her day had just gone from bad to worse.

  “What’s this called, again?” Isabella asked, holding her glass up.

  “Switcher, it’s a citrus beverage. It’s typical from the Bahamas, where my family is originally from. But I added some Rum to yours. I think you need it today” Hillary said and poured her friend some more.

  “Thanks. I sure do” Isabella nodded and took another sip.

  The fresh, spicy liquid filled her mouth. It felt weird, how the icy bits in the drink became pungent like fire when they ran down her throat- the alcohol made her tongue a little numb.

  Numbness, is what I am trying to achieve.

  Isabella leaned her head on the wall behind her and closed her eyes for a second. Burglars in her house, she just couldn’t believe it.

  “I am sorry they stole your things. It’s just horrible” Hillary shook her head slowly. “Bastards” she mumbled under her breath.

  “I honestly don’t care about the lenses, the camera and the cash I had in the closet. I can’t believe they took my necklace. That’s what I can’t get over” Isabella kept her eyes closed a moment longer.

  Money wise, the light blue pendant wasn’t worth more than fifty pounds, but to Isabella it was invaluable. It was the necklace her grandmother had given her on her graduation- her nan’s only piece of jewelry she had ever possessed in life. And now it was lost, it was in the hands of strangers and gone forever. The police had been very honest about it. Chances to find her things were down to zero.

  When Isabella opened her eyes again, Hillary was still there staring at her, a sympathetic smile on her face.

  She looked outside - from the small window near the sink- and hoped the situation at the front door had changed.

  Nope.

  “Why are they still here? What do they want?” Isabella shook her head and took another sip of her drink.

  There were still a few photographers talking on the sidewalk, even though the police had left half an hour before.

  “Some action. They are probably waiting for Christopher to come over”

  “They’ll be waiting a long time, I’m not going to tell him to come over”

  “I have this uncontrollable desire to shout ‘Nothing to see here’ out the window” Hillary grinned “Why don’t you stay with me a few days?” Hillary offered.

  “That’s really nice of you, but don’t worry. You have done so much for me already, helping me with the police and getting my head around sorting my stuff”

  “Stop thanking me, I told you already” Hillary smiled and took a sip of her drink. She was having sparkling water. “Have you called Christopher, yet?”

  “No” Isabella admitted and stared at her manager. “I haven’t told him yet, I haven’t told him about the conversation with Mr. Jenkins either” Isabella added.

  But she had told Hillary alright- unable to hold back the desperation, after the intimacy of her flat had been breached.

  Isabella had spilled it out, all of it, even that she knew someone was playing with Christopher’s head and Mr. Jenkins thought she was involved.

  “You have to speak to him, darling” Hillary said.

  “Yeah, I know. I will, tonight after the photo shoot” Isabella brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “It’s not easy to talk to him. He’s always so elusive, he tries not to overthink things too much. I mean we talk about silly things, we flirt, make fun of each other but I feel like there is still a wall between us. We are both trying to bring it down, slowly, cautious not to get our feelings hurt. But we are still stuck, alone, each one of us on one side of it”

  “Wow. You are good with words, in describing your emotions” Hillary looked impressed. “That’s why I hired you” she added and winked.

  “It’s your Switcher here. Keep filling my glass and I’ll write a bestseller for you” Isabella raised her glass and watched her boss laugh and cheer with her very own glass. Of sparkling water.

  “Why are you not drinking? I mean, fine I am the winner of the worst day contest but surely you could be a little more sympathetic and join my alcoholic nonsense” Isabella grinned at Hillary.

  She would later remember that as her last grin of the day. The last grin as the winner of the worst day contest.

  “I am pregnant” Hillary said as soft as she could, her lips a little shaky.

  The words shot out of her like a bullet, nonetheless.

  “What?” Isabella mouthed.

  “I am pregnant” Hillary said again and looked down at her hands. “And scared as fuck”

  “But” Isabella began to say, but the words didn’t come out of her mouth.

  “It’s Alfred’s of course” Hillary said quickly, in case Isabella had any doubt of the sort.

  Of course, it was Alfred’s, Isabella could see it written all over her face.

  Maybe Hillary was scared, but it wasn’t just that. There were other emotions there.

  She looked worried like any soon to be mother, but she was also happy. It was the sort of worry that came with an incredible joy, the worry of failing or not being worthy of something beautiful, extraordinary like motherhood.

  “What are you going to do?” Isabella almost mumbled the words, afraid she might hurt Hillary’s feelings.

  She looked at her friend from tip to toe and saw that she wasn’t any different. As if being pregnant came with a big giant poster that said, “Knocked up and fabulous”.

  Hillary was though, she was exactly that. Fabulous.

  Fabulously radiant- her dark skin had never been so smooth.

  Fabulously calm – when had she ever been so calm? Isabella couldn’t remember her sitting still for that long.

  “I know this isn’t how things should go. I mean, I didn’t know until we got back from Berlin the other day. I certainly didn’t plan this. I probably got pregnant in Cannes. We have broken up since then” Hillary explained.

  She told Isabella she had no intention of becoming a mother, ever. It was something she had never thought about, she had never found a man that would make her dream about getting married and start a family.

  “I will tell Alfred. I will inform him, but I don’t care what he thinks or what anyone thinks. I don’t need anyone’s approval. I am keeping this baby. Baby and I will be just fine”

  “Good” Isabella smiled warmly. “And I like the name you chose. ‘Baby’…good call”

  Hillary laughed a little, but it didn’t last- her joy.

  Isabella’s phone made a sound and she hold in her breath.

  Christophe
r.

  “Don’t tell him, please” Hillary begged her in a haste “Not before I tell Alfred”

  “I won’t tell a living soul” Isabella reassured her.

  She placed a hand on her manager’s shoulder and smiled.

  Despite what Mr. Jenkins thinks, I can be trusted.

  Then Isabella’s eyes were back on the screen.

  “Hey baby, how are you?” the text said.

  Baby, I should be used to him calling me baby by now, she bit her lip and smiled. Nope, still loving it.

  “I am good” Isabella texted back.

  Just got smacked around by your manager and burglars paid me a little visit but I am good! What a morning.

  She shook her head a little and carried on “What did the doctor say?”

  Isabella checked the time and looked back at her manager.

  “Would you like anything to eat?” Isabella stood up but Hillary reached out for her arm, making a face.

  “No, thanks. I am basically eating little snacks all day. I am in that stage were everything makes me sick. I don’t think I can hide it for long. Fred is already looking at me funny” Hillary frowned and touched her stomach.

  Another sound, another text from Christopher.

  “Doctor said I am good to go. I can start training again. How about dinner tonight after the photo shoot?”

  Isabella texted back quickly.

  “I am so happy for you. Sounds great. In a meeting with Hillary. Talk to you later” and her attention was back on Hillary.

  They spent the next half an hour talking about work, while Isabella’s washing machine whistled in the background – all her clothes, with the exception of the stuff she had carried around in her suitcase from Christopher’s house, needed to be cleaned. The idea of strangers touching it made her freak out all over again.

  “Honey, I should get going or I’ll be late for the photo shoot” Hillary announced and got up from the chair. “Don’t worry about coming. It’s fine. Go sign the deposition at the police station. It’s just a photo shoot today, I can handle it”

  She picked up her handbag and secured it over her shoulder, over the light blue sundress she was wearing. Hillary’s hands moved down to her stomach again and she made a face.

  “Do you feel sick?” Isabella asked, alarmed all of a sudden.