The group who held me was part of a larger, for lack of a better word, conglomerate. I wasn’t dead because Michael, who was really a lot more badass than I’d ever given him credit for, had saved me and killed that group.
“Because what they wanted for you was ransom. Dad wasn’t a betrayer, just a problem. The Allards were considered betrayers,” Bridget supplied. “Michael explained it to me.”
I groaned. My father might now be persona non grata, but I hated how much I owed him. My wedding. Now this. “How much did Dad give to get me back? Frankly, I can’t believe he did. He tried to slap me on the street.”
“He didn’t.” Hope yawned. My sisters had been here the whole time with me, never leaving. Was it a week now? They couldn’t be comfortable sleeping on beds in my room.
Her words penetrated my scattered brain. “What?”
“Dad could barely afford this place. He lost all his money. The company is crumbling. He paid for this, probably because I badgered him about it and it was easier to shut me up. This is about the end of his income, I imagine.”
None of this made sense. “If Dad didn’t pay them, then why didn’t they kill me? Or you know…sell me off or something. And if ransom was paid, why wasn’t I let go?”
I’d seen enough television specials and read enough books to know what happened to the kidnapped victim. Was I on my way out the door when Michael showed up just in time?
“Because Zeke paid.” Bridget eyed me as she said that. “He paid what they asked for. Then they wanted more. He was going to pay that, too, but Michael didn’t think we’d ever get you back, so they stormed the house, so to speak.”
Zeke paid. Suddenly, my stomach hurt. “He wouldn’t do that. I’m nothing to him. He made that clear. Actually no.” Speaking aloud helped me clear up my thoughts on this, even as I said them. They were muddled, and I didn’t know exactly what I was doing. “He might feel guilty. I was taken outside his house. Guilt might make him pay. Yes. Fuck. Now I owe him. How much did they get from him for me?”
Hope took my hand in hers and squeezed. “Layla, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” How could they think that? “I humiliated myself in front of him in a way that was somehow even worse than running from my wedding and making a spectacle of myself. How am I ever going to pay him back?”
Bridget shook her head. “You won’t. Lulu, I watched the social media for the last weeks. Saw you two together. That is not a man for whom you were nothing. He’s in love with you.”
She didn’t understand. I’d explained it, but maybe not well enough. “Bridget…”
“I know what he said, and Hope and I have been waiting for the right time to tell you this. We didn’t want to make things worse, and we didn’t know what he’d done, exactly. Until you finally explained in a way that made sense, today. I didn’t really understand it myself, what you were saying versus what was happening. Listen to me, the man is in love with you. I get what he did. He really fucked up. I don’t know his story, and he’d better make up for hurting you, but Ezekiel Scott is a man half out of his mind for worry for the woman he is in love with.”
My head spun. “How do you know that? Is he…texting you?”
She shook her head. “No, he’s not texting me.”
I didn’t have my phone, but Bridget held up hers. “Look at these pictures of the two of you together.”
She’d absolutely not answered my question, but I looked anyway. There we were in Paris. On his motorcycle. Eating together. Laughing together. Smiling. In one, he kissed me. Fed me ice cream. I had my head on his shoulder in another. Yes, I’d lived these moments. Loved them. And I did see what I’d seen then, that he was falling in love with me. But he didn’t feel that way. Made it clear. And asshat that he might be, Dad had said he had a history like this.
“Bridget.” I looked up from the photos. Looking at them brought me a mixture of happiness and pain. “How do you know?”
“Because he’s been sitting in a car outside of here for the last six days. I imagine it took him the extra day to find you. Dad hid you away pretty well. Maybe he paid an investigator to follow us. Maybe Michael, who quit, told him where you were. I don’t know. All I know is that he is sitting in a car. The same car. Day in and day out. He leaves the car there when he goes somewhere to change his clothes, shower, and use the bathroom.”
Hope shook her head. “I made eye contact with him yesterday, but he didn’t speak to me. Didn’t ask for any information. It’s like…it’s like he just wants to be close to you.”
“Sort of the way a man who is deeply troubled by his behavior might be if the woman he loves was locked away in this impenetrable castle,” Bridget finished.
“There on the street where you live.” Hope sang the lyric from My Fair Lady.
I rose. “If he’s been here six days…” That was mind boggling. “Why hasn’t he come in? If he has something to say, say it.”
Zeke Scott didn’t wait. If he had something to do, he got it done.
“Dad barred him. The place won’t let him in,” Bridget answered. “That was how I found out that he was here in that car. The director let me know he was banned, but he’d tried to see you. That’s when I spotted him.”
I had to catch my breath. “Where?”
Hope walked to the window. They were tinted so we could see out, but they couldn’t see in. From the street, it looked like just another converted Upper East Side brownstone that might belong to anyone. Woody Allen had one just like it.
“He doesn’t move the car. He takes a taxi or a rideshare. But the car stays there.”
There was the car. He’d gotten street parking. No way was he moving it. Maybe ever. That was impossible to get. I blinked. That didn’t matter now. I could make him out. He was in a black SUV. Sitting in the driver’s seat, staring at the building. That was all I could make out.
My heart beat really fast, and I wrung my hands together. Everything was muddled. I’d understood things, and now I didn’t. What was he doing?
“Well, what am I supposed to do? If he can’t come, I can’t…make sense of what he thinks he’s doing. I can’t…work it out. Is this really just guilt? He could have sent flowers.”
Hope laughed. “Sorry you got kidnapped at my house. Hope these roses make you smile. Best, Zeke.”
I groaned. “Okay, point taken.”
“Lulu, if he can’t come in, and maybe he can if you go plead your case and get paperwork done. I mean you’re an adult, it’s sort of hard to tell a twenty something woman that she can’t see someone because her daddy, who is a fugitive from the law, said no, go out.”
Go out. Yes, I wasn’t locked in. The doctor had even suggested if I wanted to go to the deli around the corner, it had great baklava. But I hadn’t considered it. Why would I leave right now? Where would I go worth being?
My hand went to my head where my hair should be and wasn’t.
“It’s too bad, they make great wigs. If we’d thought about it,” Hope sighed, “we’d have brought one over today.”