His Addiction

Chapter 7

Emily groaned in annoyance at the constant beeping sound of her phone in her hand. It was getting on her nerves. She didn't get a blink of sleep for the whole day when she didn't have to do anything with the packing, unlike the other time she had to hurry up to catch her flight to Brazil before her grandfather forged every piece of evidence and proof she needed to throw a case against the child protection services who denied her every claims to meet her sister after they took them from her home. The authorities were found guilty, and now her team is looking for the person who complained about Emily about their services, but still, the judge opposed giving her guardianship. But still, Emily was going to get that, and her grandpa had to hide on his estate fearing for his. . .life.

Even that little partner he lured to destroy her could only count his days in his hospital bed and curse the day he thought about signing a deal with him. Could it be him disturbing her with his calls to her number? That bonker's minion was caught strolling around her apartment complex on the last day. Emily wanted to say bye to the owner but had to retreat to avoid the meeting. She would rather talk to the officers, but they looked busy and gave her the brief of the misunderstanding Bash had about her in his head.

Like, wow? Did she look that jobless to that imp? With that poor judgment, how did he become a self-made millionaire in his twelve years of acting career and a wine production firm in Texas? Curse all those businessmen and their power of manipulation. Curse every woman of this world who admires them and makes them believe they can never be wrong with their oh-so-forgiving nature!

But Cheryl wouldn't be one of them. Emily would make her a slayer and shoo away judgemental men like Bash.

Emily narrowed her eyes at the three unknown numbers on her missed call list and wished she knew more about her phone and how to disable that spare sim card in her second slot until the following morning when she would flash it out in the airport's restroom.

"I got the mail last night."

Emily jolted in her place when the manager took his seat across from her. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear him enter his cabin where she had been waiting. Straightening her back, she said apologetically, "I know it will be a problem for you. Most of my co-workers left for the tour. You only have a few of us who do the night shifts. And now, I am quitting on short notice."

"You don't have a choice, do you, Elias?" The manager sighed, and it would be the first time Emily noticed how upset he looked when he said that. "It didn't take two months for me to forget why my nephew sent you here to hire you as a bartender at this club. I have gotten used to seeing you as a man. You worked like the guys here. How you manage that, I wonder."

Emily's throat went dry. Her eyes widened at that revelation, but her manager still looked the same. Spiritless and tired. The police helped her to find this job, but she never expected her manager to be his relative or be aware of her identity. She had been working there for over a year, but this Oldman never left those hints. She wondered if the boss, Mr. Kennedy, whether he had any idea about the unethical activities happening under his nose. But who cares? She earned too much to think about her morals.

"Here. Your due."

Emily eyed the envelope her manager pushed towards her at the desk between their seats. With just one glance, she said, frowning at him, "You are giving me the full salary?" It wasn't even the third week of the month.

"And your bonus."

Her eyes again widened when another envelope was placed beside the old one, and the manager said, "You are traveling back to your place. Better if you keep some in your hand for the emergency, you know what I mean." Her chest tightened as the tears pricked in her eyes. Not because of the money, but those words, those kind words that a person rarely told her to help her out of her situation.

"Stay in touch, alright? I will see if I manage to pull some strings here to get you a job in a club like ours in Seattle. You would be looking for a job there, wouldn't you? Or you have applied somewhere already!" Even his smile was friendly, eyes holding warmness, making Emily feel awful for judging him earlier, and she shook her head negatively, blinking back her tears. The man nodded and went into deep thought for a moment. To her relief, he said, "We will get through, alright? Don't worry. The guests who visit here leave their contacts, you see. But promise me that you will bring your sister when you come to Sao Paulo next time."

Her voice wavered. "I will. . .sure." She'd come to this city again with Cheryl. To give her psychiatrist a visit mainly. Her mother's best friend was eager to meet his goddaughter. And she would pay him for those free sessions when he could check for another patient who could pay him, unlike her. Pushing away those thoughts, she smiled gratefully. "T-thanks. Thank you so much, sir."

Then her eyes fell on the envelope before her, and she looked at his tired face again. No one more than she knew the situation in the clubestaurant. It could be considered the headquarters. Most of her colleagues were sent on the tour. It wasn't like she had other things to do in the police quarter. She wasn't even allowed to go to the market alone to buy more chocolates for her sister and gifts or special local spices for her best friend's mother and her advocate, who loved cooking, and for that, Emily had to wait until one of their shifts was over. Crossing her fingers, she said, "I am thinking about working both shifts today. I hope it won't be a problem."

His eyes lit up. "That will be a big help. It will take some time for them to arrive here from our other branches in this city."

Emily got up from her seat and thanked him before making her way to the locker room and then back to the kitchen after carefully locking her envelopes. There wasn't anyone present there that time, so she breathed in relief and helped out the new cooks with the cook, and it lifted her mood eventually. She learned so much in this kitchen that she couldn't wait to try them in her home for Cheryl.

Her sister was a big foodie and a fan of spicy food, and Emily had to finish her porridge and plain non-veg soup for her. It used to happen every night when seventeen-year-old Emily played at home with her two-year-old sister and her twenty-two-year-old boyfriend in her home in Seattle. She could remember how Cheryl used to wait for Jason like a daughter does for her father and have their family meal together at their dining table. It would kill Emily if Cheryl refused to acknowledge her now after their one-and-a-half year of separation or ask for Jason, the man she thought was her father. Emily sometimes wondered if she was the unluckiest one or her sister, who no one acknowledged when she was brought home by her grandparents. Or should she pity her parents for letting others ruin their family when they used to say they would always be there whenever Emily needed them at her side?

Those numbers stopped bothering her for quite a time. It stopped vibrating in her pocket, and she thought she had finally got to get rid of them using that trick. At the end of her day shift, when she was returning to the kitchen with her empty trolley and meeting the guests who wanted to see her for the dish they ordered and liked, Emily bumped into her colleague accidentally.

"Can't you see where you are going?"

Beckett, who Emily thought he took as his rival bartender, sneered at her face, rubbing his knees to soothe his pain after getting hit by her trolley. And he was the one who came in her way of what Emily could bet her favorite cheesecake on.

Still, like the good girl she was, Emily asked in concern, "Are you okay? I wasn't expecting you early, by the way, buddy."

For a brief moment, Beckett went stiff.

It was like a deer caught in headlights, but Emily missed noticing the change in his expression and went on with wide eyes, and could be gullible sometimes for her age and her struggle with her manly act, "Are you here covering for your cousin? The last time we talked, he asked me if I had a change of mind so that he could book a ticket for me to join him on his hiking trip to Santiago."

This guy's cousin helped her with her bank when she moved to Sao Paulo and then with finding a cheap yet safe apartment complex, along with showing her some cheap restaurants where she could eat anything she wished, even with her tight budget. It was near Jureia beach, where she became an investor. Now they were opening a resort and adding more water games where Emily hoped she would earn more, which she could use for Cheryl's schooling. She didn't want to take any risks. If anything happened to her, somehow, it would put her soul at peace, knowing Cheryl wouldn't have to ask for money from anyone for her higher education.

"You are here to work, not make friends." Emily would have called him the brother of that star who was two steps away from sending her to jail that night, but the good thing was Beckett and Bash looked nothing alike. Taking a threatening step towards her with a narrowed gaze, he said through his teeth, "Better if you keep your distance from my family, or you'll be in trouble."

Emily couldn't understand how Beckett turned out this way when his twin was quiet and bearable on some level, but he also went on the tour with her other bartender, Ron, who gave his jacket to Emily that day she kicked Bash out of the elevator.

"Fine. I won't. Then could you please move aside? The guests are waiting, and I don't want to ruin my dish just because- "

Before she finished it, she was rudely interrupted by Beckett. "Yeah, go where you belong! Who is stopping you, you arse kisser!"

Her blood boiled with the tone this guy used on her. She felt somewhat insulted but wasn't sure what offended her the most. A girl belongs to the kitchen! Or their nature of solving matters and being cooperative made them seem like arse kissers, which Beckett just called her! Gritting her teeth, she spat and momentarily forgot that she was Elias, who was a take-it-easy type of guy and likely to ignore that kind of comment because of the Bash effect that still had on her, "No girl will marry you with that mouth you run like that all the time, Beckett. Better if you grow up or find a psychiatrist who could help you with your sexist nature!"

Beckett's expression darkened. Then something flashed in his eyes as he looked behind her for a second and averted his gaze at the little spy before him. Clenching his jaw, he snarled at her face with a warning, "You didn't just call me that!"

Emily had had enough of these men. She regretted she couldn't refute that day to Bash for insulting her so openly that night in the car, so she imagined it was Bash standing before her again, and she just lashed out without holding back her anger. She didn't sense anything wrong or how the air around her thickened slowly, and Beckett looked angry with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"Being a person of the 21st century, it sounds awful in a thousand ways when you look down on a woman or man just because they were somehow weaker or were no match to stand at your level. What do you expect us to do for you, huh? Lick the damn ground you walk on like you are some god, and we will be your followers! This is not a Barbie World, and no girl chooses Ken over. . .well, Elias!" Emily knew she sounded like a complete narcissist, but she didn't know who to compare with Ken. Besides, the female co-workers liked Elias for his nature, which made her feel less guilty. Glaring at this bratty rival, she raised her voice for one last time while maintaining her manly voice, "So, stop ridiculing yourself, alright? Nobody cares. Or ever will unless they are lying in millions and have too much time to do poking their noses in others' business, thinking of a way to create chaos in their oh-not-so-private lives." Then Emily snorted coldly. "Really? Am I talking about their private lives? Do celebrities actually have one?" Emily laughed, but that didn't reach her eyes, and neither did she remember what made her lose her mind on Beckett. Shaking her head, she gritted aloud, "No, they don't have one. It was one of their ways to stay in the limelight. They make everything public and then blame others like they have the right to! These people cross every limit of hierocracy and expect us to be available for them always!"

Emily's face turned slightly red when she was done venting her anger at her co-worker. Yet she raised her chin in defiance to meet his eyes, and instantly a frown married on her face, seeing him watching someone behind her with an unreadable expression. She shrugged that off, thinking Beckett must be feeling humiliated with all the eyes on him now, and if the girls were there, they would have agreed with her when she called this guy sexist because he behaved like that. And about the latter part, well, that also suited his character, and he and his brothers came from a wealthy family, but they never shared anything about what they were doing here in the first place. Now. . .when Beckett didn't make an effort to move, Emily turned her heel to take the other way to go back to the kitchen, and her grip tightened on the handle of her trolley when her eyes fell on the man she made fun of not a moment ago.

Her heart started to beat erratically. Not because of the seven to ten men and women in black who were surrounding him but because Bash's expression looked way too calm. He wasn't standing close to her, yet she took a step backward, fearing a volcano that might erupt from him anytime, judging by the whitening knuckles of his clenched fists and how that hulk-ish bodyguard guarded Bash with his body and extended hand. As if that would be enough to stop the burning stone throwing her way from his boss's mouth. She didn't have that kind of experience before, but words hurt more bluntly than stone does. . .and her heart hurt still.

That thought was enough to overpower her fear, and her eyes turned completely blank, but she didn't break eye contact with Bash. She held that person's stare who had never experienced what was thrown her way when she was barely sixteen, yet he ruthlessly judged her. Does he think only he has problems in his life? To save his relationship, he had the right to blame someone who she had never met before in her life! He had money. He had power. Hell, he even had a family who might not be perfect or love him more than themselves, but they would still be there or send someone to take care of the matter for them. But Emily. . .she had no one.

Her icy look soon turned accusatory. Pressing her lips in a thin line, she dared to glare so intensely at Bash that he had to blink, startled. He had to be visibly shaken inside because no one ever looked that way at him, but Emily didn't care. She was, too, her father's daughter. Even with the absence of her parents in her life, she knew how to stand her ground and take care of herself.

With that, she harshly shoved Beckett out of her way and took the hallway next to them to return to the kitchen with her trolley. She hoped they wouldn't cross paths again after that day, and even if they did, she would pretend like she didn't know him and wouldn't repeat her mistake like she did the other night and end up getting humiliated by the person she saved, risking her own life.

Yet, she looked over her shoulder. Not for Bash, but Beckett, who, of course, wasn't there, and this question would bug her why he did what he did just now. And she was sure it couldn't be for him to put her in trouble.

It was something more than that. Something dangerous was evident in those mischievous eyes.

She wished she was that brave. If she were, she would have dared to face him. But she couldn't and would never be because she was scared. Too scared to face the truth that everyone was keeping from her. And her lawyer wouldn't have used that tone on her to return to Seattle, and the officers wouldn't have made all the arrangements and changed her flight time to nine tonight.

Emily felt like a thief when she was escorted to her flight but didn't ask anything of the diplomat, who was now sleeping beside her in business class. She was going to her home. And she was in that state. Could anyone blame her for that now?

It took over a day for the captain to take them to Seattle. The diplomat, who barely talked with her, parted his way and made his way to the exit, and Emily had to wait for her luggage, taking two trolleys with her and her backpack on her back.

Her anxiety was driving her crazy, not receiving any news from anyone, and it was already the past hour of the day of the court hearing about where the Kryeziues should be getting permission to take Cheryl home. It would take another few months to get custody, but the court would send people to check on her sister, but why did no one call her or text her at least?

Somehow, she managed to load the trolley with her boxes and new suitcases that she had brought from Sao Paulo. And they weren't empty. She still remembered how she took her backpack and duffel when she caught the flight to Brazil at this airport. Now, she had to try hard to push them toward the exit by kicking them and trying not to hit the passengers in her way.

Her heart missed a beat when her phone vibrated in her handbag.

Stopping abruptly, she took that out and frowned, seeing it was from Robbe, her grandfather's butler. Another spare sim Emily gave him to use in an emergency. Even so, her grandpa wouldn't catch Robbie because that number wasn't registered in her name or anyone he knew who was close to her. She swallowed hard and opened the message, and her frown deepened when she read the text, 'He took his jet to LA with the Millers. Follow him, Millie. But please, take someone with you this time.'

But why? Emily looked stressed again. She made it clear she no longer needed a sign from her grandpa. Even Robbe told her she didn't need that share when she could manage that on her own. Then, he couldn't just send this text for no reason, right?

Emily thought about calling him but changed her idea when the security told her to step aside or leave. Placing her phone back in her handbag, she stepped out of the airport and thought about taking a taxi to Helenite's home and would think about a way to let Robbe know she wasn't going to LA for anything. She wanted peace and her sister and wouldn't compromise that with anything this time.

Waving her hand, when she was about to stop the taxi, someone in her high-pitched tone called her from behind, "Oyi!! Millie Billie! Wait!" Emily froze to hear that familiar whiny and childish voice of her sister. "Ugh! Why do you walk so fast? Dynamite! Look! She is taking the taxi now!" The only little human she was dying to meet but was scared to face. She knew how much Cheryl wanted to talk to her, but Emily avoided that, feeling guilty about her little sister's situation, who she was supposed to protect.

With tears in her eyes, Emily turned around, and a grin appeared automatically, seeing her best friend struggling to match her pace with a four-year-old resembling Emily so much that she hoped her parents were there today to see their younger child.

"Yeah! I saw her! She saw us, too! Could you slow down and stop dragging me around like that, Cheryl?"

Emily saw Helenite let out nervous laughter when she was about to fall on her face. But their little sister was very energetic and full of life. Her laughter made Emily feel all the wait was worth it, and she was willing to take any risk for Cheryl.

But before she took a good look at Cheryl, someone from the crowd rushed towards her with a flashy yet sharp object in his hand, and in just a second, Emily's limp body dropped to the ground with her hand pressing on the place below her stomach.