Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
She needed to clear up this misunderstanding as soon as possible. She had to make that unreasonable man listen to her.
She put her ear to the wood, hoping to hear some signs of life. She heard faint music, and the low gravelly undertone of his voice. Which meant he was out there, awake, aware, and basically ignoring her very existence.
Ooh, but that burned. It annoyed the ever-loving hell out of her.
She whipped out her phone and dialed Mr. Quinn’s private number. It went straight to voicemail and Iris gritted her teeth as she left her message.
“Mr. Quinn? Uhm… Hi, this is Iris Hughes. As I stated in my text message, Mr. Abbott was not expecting me. He’s accused me of trespassing and has locked me in a—uhm—well, it’s quite a nice suite of rooms actually. But I’m still his prisoner and this just isn’t on. He’s threatened to call the police. At this point I wish he would do it and that they’d get here soon because I’m going to have to report him for false imprisonment, or kidnapping, or something. The situation is really deteriorating quite badly and I’d appreciate it if you’d—y’know—call him to straighten this out? Please? Thank you ever so much. Uh… goodbye?”
She disconnected the call, annoyed with the deference she’d heard in her own voice during that call. She’d meant to sound tough, no-nonsense, not like some meek out-of-her-depth little lamb.
Ugh. Typical.
“Iris Hughes, legend in her own mind.”
She started banging on the door.
“Mr. Abbott, let me out, please.” Iris was proud of how level her voice was. How reasonable her tone. No sign of her incipient panic. “We need to talk.”
She stopped to listen again and the low rumbly voice had gone silent.
A few seconds later she heard the scrabbling of huge paws on the wooden floors down the hall, the eager running steps came ever closer until she could her wet snuffling at the door, following by a scratch and whine.
At least someone was on her side.
“Hello Luna, puppy, can you please ask The Dickhead to let me out? I’ll give you all the treats in the world if you could do me that solid.”
“Bribing my dog isn’t going to get you very far.” The deep voice on the other side of the door caused her to squeak in alarm. Shit, how the hell had he managed to get to the door without making a sound? Was he some light-footed elf or something? “And calling me a dickhead isn’t doing anything to ingratiate you to me either.”
Iris glared at the door, wishing she could incinerate the solid wooden slab between them with the force of her fury.
“I’m done trying to ingratiate myself to you. I demand you let me out! This is proper kidnapping.”
“As opposed to? Improper kidnapping?” There was absolutely zero inflection in his voice.
“Look, when are the police coming? I’m going to counter arrest your entitled superstar arse for kidnapping.”
“Blackmail? Have we finally unearthed your real reason for coming all this way?”
“My real reason for coming all this way, you arrogant jerk, was to interview you, as per an arrangement made via your manager. An arrangement you allegedly agreed to, by the way.”
“So you keep insisting.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” Iris said in helpless frustration. “That was the arrangement. Maybe you should call him.”
“Convenient for you that you showed up just as Quinny left for his annual spiritual retreat, isn’t it?” Sarcasm was rife in his words and Iris clenched her fists.
“It’s not convenient at all. Do you have the number of this retreat? This is urgent, we need to clear it up.”
“I don’t need to clear anything up. The burden of proof is on you.”
“Well, then give me the number and I’ll call him.”
TDH made a snorting sound that, on anyone else, could be considered a laugh.
“Right, like you don’t fucking know he’s on silent retreat at a Buddhist monastery in Nepal.”
“He’s… what?”
“Un-a-vail-able right now,” TDH emphasized each syllable in true dick-ish fashion, and with no lack of smug satisfaction.
Iris’s mouth opened and closed in shock. Who the hell did shit like that? Real people didn’t swan off to Nepal to meditate with silent monks, come on.
“B-but he can’t be. I spoke to him on Thursday before I left for the airport. He assured me that everything had been arranged.”
“Suuure, he did.”
Iris’s legs gave way and she slid down the door in a gelatinous, disbelieving puddle of despondency.
“Then open the door and I’ll show you the emails and texts he sent me.”
“Electronic correspondence can be faked,” he said, sounding bored.
Iris’s head dropped into her hands and she stifled a sob.
“You said the burden of proof is on me,” she said, her voice hoarse with tears. “How can I prove anything to you when you won’t even look at the evidence?”