The Hated Billionaire by Erica Frost

Chapter 17: Christina

I looked out over the apartment-blocks, the lights bright against the blackness beyond my windows, the traffic blaring down below and the car headlights shining against the inky dark. I shivered, wrapping my cardigan tight around me, though it was not particularly cold. I could still hear my father’s voice and I didn’t know what to do to calm down.

“I should tell Neela.”

I sat down heavily on the couch, resting my head in my hands. I couldn’t tell Neela! I had never told her the particulars about my situation – even though I trusted her, I didn’t trust anyone she might accidentally tell. People can be so cruel, and knowing that I didn’t have the same background as them might cause me big trouble at work.

I needed to tell somebody, though. I had to get some advice from somewhere.

I wished I could tell Brett.

“No. Absolutely not.”

I didn’t know him that well. What would he think? He would be shocked, that I was sure of. He wouldn’t want to be associated with someone who was from such a different walk of life to himself. I was sure that he would disapprove. I didn’t know him well enough to turn to him for help.

I went through to my bedroom, stifling a yawn. It was late. I should go to bed.

I sat down heavily on the bed, drained of energy. I had stuff to prepare for tomorrow, but I couldn’t focus. My head was swimming and I felt so tired, yet at the same time my heart was thudding and I was wide awake.

My phone rang as I reached for the report I was checking through. I froze.

Should I answer it?

I had no idea. I flipped open the case and felt my heart sink. It was an unknown number. What were the chances that it was my father, calling again from anther phone?

I took a deep breath and answered it.

“Hello,” the voice that I had been expecting, yet fearing, replied. “Christie. It’s me. Is your apartment in Brookford House?”

“What?”

I dropped the phone on the bed. It was my father! And, yes…My apartment is in Brookford House. But how the hell did he know that? And why did he want to know?

“Why do you want to know?” I demanded angrily. I had wanted to sound intimidating, but really all I sounded was frightened.

“Because I’m in the park. I’m trying to find you. Christie…won’t you talk to me?” His tone was wheedling, like it had been when he noticed that he’d scared me.

“No,” I said.

I slammed the phone shut, put it down on the bed and rolled into a ball. This man had terrorized my childhood – swearing, screaming abuse, threatening – and I had been grateful to escape him. Uncle Hal had paid for my education and I owed him, more than anyone else, the fact that I had become who I’d become. School had been an escape from my terrible home. It had also been an escape from my father. There was no way I was going to let him into the life I’d built for myself. No way at all.

“He said he was in the park. He knows where I live.”

I tried to think of how he could have gotten that information, and then I remembered that my CV was up on my LinkedIn profile and it happened to have my postal address on it, which is the same as my living address. How hard would it have been for him to find it?

“Damn it!” I swore.

I was frightened. If I knew anything about him at all, he was here because he needed something. And if he needed something, he wasn’t going to just stay outside in the park, or at a hotel or wherever. He was going to come and find me.

I felt a wash of fear go through me. I knew it was irrational to feel like this – after all, here I was high up in the building, with a security door on the outside – but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to end up cowering in my apartment all night, waiting for the knock on the door, the shouts outside, the yells and threats like when I was a child. I was going somewhere.

I grabbed my suitcase and threw a handful of clothes in at random, lifted my high-heels off the floor and threw them in too. I packed my brush, makeup, toothbrush, a belt, my slippers. After grabbing one or two more items, I shut the case, reached for my car-keys, shrugged on my coat and, my handbag in my hand, marched down to the lift.

I held my breath as we went down – every second, I was expecting him to get into the lift, or to hear the door open and have him shout my name. But we went down to the ground floor without incident, and I got out and went to find my car, hands shaking.

“Please, let me get away quickly.”

I threw my suitcase and handbag into the car, jumped into the driver’s seat, slammed the door, and turned the key in the ignition. I shot off towards the doors.

I was planning as I drove. I would go to Neela’s. Maybe I could think of some way of explaining to her why I was there, something that didn’t involve my father or anything else. I could tell her I was stressed, maybe. That she would understand. I hoped she wouldn’t mind if I stayed there. I wouldn’t be there for long…just a few days. Just long enough to be sure that my father was going to leave me alone.

I drove across town, amazed by how busy the city was. It was Sunday night, at about nine, and cars and people were everywhere, the neon lights harsh from the shops and bars and clubs, the traffic loud. I leaned on my steering-wheel as we halted at the lights, trying not to breathe so fast.

“Calm, Christina. Breathe in, and out. In, and out.”

I put my foot on the clutch and jolted forward, then sped off as I started up again. I was almost at Neela’s apartment building.

I found a parking-space eventually, stopped the car, grabbed my stuff and went to ring the doorbell.

“Hello?” Neela’s voice sounded sleepy. I was so grateful she’d not just ignored a ring at the doorbell on a Sunday night.

“Neela! It’s me!” I said urgently. “Christina Bradfield.”

“Christina?”

“Yes,” I said, hearing the utter disbelief in her voice. I never called without some kind of arrangement. It just didn’t happen. “Let me in?”

“Sure, Christina!” Neela said, her voice light. “Just have to tidy away a few things…” she pressed the bell, and I pushed the door open. By the time I got into the lobby, I was shaking. Out on the street, I’d been scared my father could somehow venture over on this side of town and find me. I went to the lift and went up, still shivering.

“Christina!” Neela greeted as I arrived outside her door. “Hey! Come in…hell, you look so pale!”

“Please, just let me in,” I said, then went hurriedly into her apartment while she locked the door behind us and then turned to face me, frowning.

“Christina?” she asked gently. “What the heck happened? Why are you so scared?”

I let out a deep breath. “Sorry, Neela,” I said. “I just…well…Sorry. Can I have a moment? I need to go to the bathroom and shower and try and calm down.”

“Sure, Christina,” she said, looking at me oddly. “Hell…are you sure I can’t get something for you? You really look like you’re in shock or something.”

I shook my head. I was fine. I just needed to be somewhere safe.

“No. Thanks, Neela. I’m just going to go and get that shower now.”

“Sure,” Neela agreed. Her big dark eyes looked after me worriedly. I went into the bathroom and locked it behind me. I felt safe now. I stood there for a long moment, just trying to get my bearings. I had stopped shaking, and anger was starting to replace the rank fear. I shouldn’t be chased out of my own home by somebody! I had a right to feel safe in my own home. I unbuttoned my blouse and undressed, getting into the shower.

I had stayed at Neela’s once or twice, and I grinned to myself at the floral shower-gel decorated with pictures of bubbles, the shower-head that had been mended where it had fallen and cracked, cracking one of the tiles with it. I didn’t think that anyone, looking at Neela, would guess at how quirky she was.

I was much calmer after a warm shower. I dried off and dressed and went to join Neela in the sitting-room.

“Hey. Feeling better?” she asked. She was sitting on the couch, a mug of something in between her hands. She gestured to me. “Yours is on the table.”

“Thanks,” I said. I took the cup and sipped, feeling revived as I tasted the warm, sweet taste. I shut my eyes, letting myself calm down. After a shower, and with cocoa to drink, I felt much safer.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened, if you don’t want.” Neela watched me across the table, dark eyes solemn.

I shrugged. “Thanks, Neela,” I said. I felt uncomfortable. I wanted to tell her something – after all, I couldn’t very well turn up and ask to be put up for the night without giving some kind of an explanation – and yet, it wasn’t easy.

She spoke as I cleared my throat. “You could sleep in the bed, but I’d probably wake you up – I move a lot.”

I laughed. “Thanks, Neela. You’re an absolute angel. I’ll sleep on the couch. If I really can’t sleep, I might have to take you up on your offer, though.” I laughed shakily. “I am pretty stressed out.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I wish I could do something to help. Have you had dinner?”

“No,” I said. I had actually forgotten about dinner. It wasn’t a bad idea. My stomach rumbled at the thought. “Can I cook something?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “That would be great. I haven’t eaten much either – I wasn’t hungry. I am now, though. So, let’s make something!”

I grinned and nodded. Somehow she had managed to make this all feel like we were on a holiday, not like I’d just driven here in the middle of the night to get away from my flat. It felt a bit surreal, going and cooking with Neela. I was still stressed, my body racing with adrenalin, though I’d stopped shaking and I felt a bit calmer. We went through to the dining-area where she had a big table, just on the other side of the kitchen counter.

“I had to come here,” I said as we ate. She didn’t say anything, just waited to let me talk. I swallowed awkwardly. “I got a phone-call from someone from my past. He had my address. I was scared he’d find me.”

“I see,” Neela nodded. She looked worried; her brow crinkled with a frown. “Christina, couldn’t you maybe get hold of the police about this?”

“No,” I said. I was touched that she was so concerned, but I knew that wasn’t a route available to me right now. “I can’t really report someone for calling me – that’s not a crime.”

“If he threatened you, I think it must count for something,” Neela said.

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

We both ate in silence for a while. I felt better as I ate, the food imparting energy to me. I started to feel my brain coming out of the shock and I took a sip of water, wondering about what to tell Neela. She was eating calmly and she hadn’t seemed inclined to ask me any more questions. I thought it was best to leave it like it was for now.

“We can go into work together tomorrow,” she said.

“Thanks!” I grinned. Fortunately, I’d brought my work things with me, along with a change of clothes. “I’d appreciate that.” I wanted to avoid my apartment for as long as possible. I knew him – hanging around until I came out for my commute to work – or back from work – would be just the sort of thing he would do. I wondered, fleetingly, where he was staying the night. I was sure he must have somewhere – after all, if he got all the way to New York, he must have means of some sort. Why he would choose to spend them on finding me, I had no idea.

“No problem,” Neela agreed. “And then maybe after work, I can go back to your apartment with you? How likely is this crazy guy to stop bothering you?”

I shrugged again. “I don’t know.” I couldn’t imagine how long it would take him to give up – after all, if he’d come all this way, I couldn’t expect him to just leave after one night.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t tell the police?” Neela asked. “I mean…just in case they can do something?”

“I don’t know – I guess I don’t want to get the law involved just yet. Not unless we know it’s serious.”

She leaned back and regarded me across the table, dark eyes wide and full of care. “I understand,” she said gently. “But if something even slightly weird happens – if you get a call and he threatens you again, or anything – I really think we ought to do something. At least, we could tell Durrell – he could beat the guy up!”

I laughed. Durrell was her boyfriend. I hadn’t thought that they were that seriously involved, but clearly I had missed something. She had that happy look in her eye simply from hearing his name. I knew how that felt, because I felt the same thing for somebody else now.

I wondered again if I should tell Brett. I just couldn’t let him know what it was that I was so scared of. I finished my dinner and went to do the washing up. Neela finished up and came in after me.

“I’ll go and get some things from the cupboard,” she said, drying plates and putting them away carefully. “You need a duvet and pillow.”

“Thanks,” I said, grinning at her as she reached for the drying-up cloth. “You’re being so wonderful…I hope you know that.”

She just smiled. “You’re my friend, Christina. Friends help each other.”

“Thanks,” I said again and gave her a big hug. She hugged me back and I felt tears spring to my eyes. It was so wonderful to have someone like a sister. I blinked, feeling tears running down my cheeks. If I was wearing any makeup, it would be smudged terribly by now.

“Now, I’ll go get those things,” Neela said. She was emotional too – I could hear it in how her voice wobbled a bit as she talked. I knew she was trying to hide it, and I bent over the sink, finishing with the dishes.

I went to bed on the couch about half an hour later. It was still early, but I was exhausted and drained.

I pulled the coverlet up over my shoulders and rested my head on the big fluffy pillow. She’d put down a sheet for me and blankets, in case I was cold in the night. I felt a twist in my heart, seeing how kind she’d been to me. I hadn’t looked at my phone since the last call – it was in my handbag that rested next to the couch. I didn’t want to know if he’d tried to call again. I didn’t want to think about it until tomorrow morning.

I shut my eyes, feeling surprisingly sleepy. I wondered what I would do if I saw Brett tomorrow, and whether I would find the courage to tell him where I was.