Thief of Hearts
Page 65

I nodded and brought my hand to my keys. I was shaking. I started the engine and put my foot on the gas. Just as I pulled out onto the road I hit the brakes and let out a startled yelp, because one of the men was now standing directly in front of my car. I tried to reverse but the other was standing behind it. They both had shoulders so wide they might as well have been brick walls.
“Throw the keys out the window,” one of them shouted. I looked to Stu, his face angry yet resigned. Finally, he nodded and I did as the man requested. My keys hit the ground and the man picked them up. “Now all of you get out of the car and head inside. You’ve got a visitor.”
I’d never been so nervous in my entire life. Alfie looked just as terrified. This wasn’t our world. We didn’t belong here. Stu was the only one who didn’t look frightened. If I was honest, he looked like he was weighing his chances of taking on both men in a fight. He must have decided the odds were against him because he didn’t initiate any violence.
I took Alfie’s hand in mine as we headed for the door of our flat. It was already open. The lock was bashed in and the door ajar. We both took a step inside and entered the living room, Stu close behind us. I sucked in a breath when I saw the entire place had been ransacked. My gaze travelled over our trashed living room before we all stopped short. My heart pounded as I stared at the dapper gentleman lounging casually on our worn-out sofa.
He wasn’t a stranger. In fact, I recognised him instantly.
Perhaps this was our world, after all.
Alfie dropped my hand and took a hesitant step backward, his voice hushed as he whispered, “Dad?”
Twenty-Three

“Alfred, my boy, it’s been a long time. My, look how you’ve grown,” said Raymond, his gaze sharp as he took in his son. I did a quick mental calculation. Alfie hadn’t seen his dad since he was seventeen when he was prosecuted and sent away for committing fraud. That was over a decade ago. I heard my cousin’s breathing quicken as he clutched my hand again, his grip so tight it was almost crushing.
“Get out,” he said, voice quiet.
“Well, that’s no way to greet your father,” Raymond chided.
“Get out, please get out,” Alfie went on, louder now. He started to hyperventilate and I quickly realised he was having a panic attack.
“You need to leave,” I ordered, channelling as much authority into my voice as possible. Raymond, or should I say ‘the Duke’, chuckled, a hint of cruelty behind it. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Can’t you see that he doesn’t want you here?” I shouted, my protective instincts kicking in. “He doesn’t want to see you, so just go.”
“Andrea, don’t . . .” Alfie pleaded and I immediately regretted my outburst. Obviously, he didn’t want us having a domestic with his dad in front of Stu and the two suited men standing in the doorway.
Speak of the devil . . . Stu’s every muscle was coiled tight. In fact, I’d never seen him look so furious. The funny thing was, he didn’t look surprised. Not. One. Bit.
He’d known.
Quick as lightning my hostility found a new target. “You knew!” I exclaimed hoarsely, my voice catching with emotion. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”
Suddenly, everything made sense, how ‘the Duke’ knew so much about us, how he targeted us from the very beginning. Betrayal. It was an ugly, painful sore to experience, but that’s what I felt. I had trusted Stu. I had trusted his thoughts, his promises. I had trusted him with my heart. And he did this. How could he?
Alfie’s dad must’ve found out that we’d been living together for the past few years. Furthermore, he knew how resistant Alfie was to new people and that the only way for Stu to meet him was through me.
Alfie gasped and turned away from his dad to face Stu. His expression was horrified. “Did you?” he asked in a tiny voice. His feelings were hurt, and it was in that moment that I realised just how fond Alfie had grown of Stu. He might’ve denied it if asked, but I could see he’d considered him trustworthy, a friend. I’d never seen him look so betrayed and I didn’t know who I was angrier for: me or my cousin.
Stu cleared his throat, his expression torn as his brows drew together. “Let me explain—”
“There’s nothing to explain. I should’ve known you were hiding something. You’ve been lying to us from the start.”
“Andrea, I couldn’t tell you. You have to believe me.”
“I don’t want to hear it. Just leave,” I growled, turning to Raymond. “Both of you can leave. I don’t even know why you came here.”
“Andrea, darling, sit down and be quiet,” Raymond ordered, standing from the couch and walking towards Stu. “I take it that’s the painting,” he went on, eyeing the case eagerly.
Without a word Stu handed it to him and Raymond grinned as he ran his fingers over the leather. He carried it to the coffee table, set it down and then sat again. He flicked open the locks and exhaled a breath once he saw the painting.
“Magnificent.”
I couldn’t argue with him. I eyed the piece, completely identical to the one Alfie had painted. Raymond ever so gently touched his fingers to the canvas.
“D-don’t do that,” Alfie stammered and his father shot him a cynical glance, placing his fingers more firmly against the paint as though in challenge. “There might be something on your skin that could corrupt the canvas,” Alfie went on.
“I think you’ll find my hands are perfectly clean, Alfred,” Raymond replied.
“Don’t be a prick,” said Stu, and Alfie’s dad’s gaze cut to him.
“I’ll thank you to keep quiet. You’re hardly in a position to tell me what to do.” He paused, his attention sliding to me. “It seems you went above and beyond the call of duty in regards to what I sent you here to achieve.”
Stu opened his mouth to speak but Raymond held up a hand. “Don’t bother. It’s clear to me you allowed yourself to develop feelings for my niece. How tragic. And there was me, thinking I’d found a heartless hardened criminal to do my bidding.”
“Fuck you, Raymond,” Stu swore, the way he said his name dripping with disrespect.
Raymond chuckled a mirthless laugh. “Are you testing me, son?”