Chasing Scarlett: A Breeder Romance

20. Hospital

Scarlett

“Where were you between eleven pm last night and six am this morning, Ms. Montogomery?” the detective asks, tapping his chin with his pen.

My fingers tap into the glass table, anxiety tightening my chest. Je vas bien. “Home.” Because the truth would be much harder to say. “If there’s nothing else, I would very much like to return to my meeting, Detective.”

Skeptical blue eyes meet mine. “You were observed on surveillance leaving at fifteen minutes past three in a red Aston Martin, with an unidentifiable man.” He folds his arms and leans back in my chair like he has no where else to be. “I'd urge you to be forthcoming, miss, as lying will only complicate matters. Now, can you provide information on the identity of the man, his contact details, or his place of residence.”

Well, shoot.

I smile diplomatically. “I could’ve gone on a joyride with my boyfriend for all you know. There’s no proof I did any such thing. Plus, you must not be very smart if you think I’d ruin a company I built from scratch, a company I was making plans to reacquire.” I toss the files in front of him and his eyes skim over the top folder before returning to me with disinterest.

“You’re evading my questions.”

“Maybe you’re just asking the wrong questions. Have you questioned Isabel, or are you here on the mere whim of her accusations?”

He stares at me for a moment. “Where did you go with your boyfriend by three in the morning, thirty minutes before the fire started?”

I smirk. “A dungeon.”

The detective’s brows rise. “A dungeon?” he repeats, like he’s unsure he heard me.

I give him the stare I’m well known for at work—the kind that makes men feel stupid. “Never heard of S&M? b**m? We were…” I lick my itching canines. “Engaged, and I assure you, thirty minutes is rarely enough to conclude such…activities.”

He stares at me blankly, coldly. “Where is this dungeon?”

My smile is seductive. “Well, well, wouldn’t you like to know?”

Another unimpressed, unmoved stare, but something flickers in his eyes briefly—interest. “I would, because it would explain why you returned home with another man.” It’s his turn to give me a wolfish grin. “Another boyfriend, maybe?”

Well, damn.

Still, I refuse to let him rattle me. Until there’s proof, I’m innocent. Well, unless Isabel planted some. I really need a man in the police department like my father did, but apparently, loyalty to Kingsley Montogomery didn’t mean loyalty to his only child. “Oh well, a woman can be shrewd every now and then, non? Where one can’t satisfy, perhaps four will.”

The detective shifts uncomfortable as I give him my best, f**k-me eyes, and I know I’ve gotten under his skin. Let him think what he wants. The last thing I need is anyone prying into my life or personal affairs right now. I already have enough on my plate, enough to flee from. I can’t have the cops hovering around as well.

The detective starts to rise, but his eyes flicker to my wrists. “Interesting tattoos. Where did you get them?”

Startled, I pull my sleeves over my mate marks. “Now you’re curious about my body too? Might as well ask what size I am.”

Ignoring me, he pulls out a picture from his pocket and sets it on the table between us. “Your ex-husband was attacked. Arson was just a colorful way to hide his beaten up, near dead body. Of course, that’s only a theory. Do you recognize this?”

My stomach churns as I stare at what is unmistakably my wedding ring. When I didn’t find it after the accident, I’d assumed it got…I don’t know, lost in the debris? I just had so much to think of that the ring, though the stone could be valued to millions of dollars, was inconsequential. But there it is, sitting in an evidence bag. “Yes,” I say with a shaky breath. “But I lost it years ago.”

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

Detective Stone looks like he doesn’t believe me. “No trips. You might want to stick around until this is over and done with.” He takes the picture, a funny look crossing his face when he notices just how shaken I am. He thinks I’m rattled by the fact that they have ‘proof’ against me. That isn’t what makes me storm out of the conference room seconds after him, grabbing my coat from my office.

I couldn’t be bothered by an accusation that holds no water. It’s the ring that bothers me. A forgotten memory of Riordan’s soft hands on me when he said, “You will live, human. For us, you must.” His fingers drifting down my arm and grazing over my fingers.

“Ma’am? The meeting with Mr. Ravenna—” my secretary is saying, but I cut her a sharp look. “Reschedule it, Bonnie.”

I need to see Alexander’s injuries, if at all to convince myself that there’s no way Riordan did that. Or any of them. I need to see that someone else isn’t about to die because of me, or them. That I haven’t been mated to a psychotic group of individuals who have no value for human life.

***************

Alexander is awake when I arrive at the hospital, and I couldn’t be more shocked by the fact that he’s been asking to see me. Only me. Not his wife of two years who almost clawed my eyes out when I showed up. She says I’ve done something to him. She says there’s something awfully wrong with me and I’ve ruined her life.

Security stopped her from lashing at me before I could hit the backstabbing b***h.

But something is indeed wrong, because when I step into Alexander’s room, he cracks me a painful smile, his eyes filled with such love, confusion tightens my chest. “Baby.”

Uh…what?

Isabel is screaming and crying angrily outside and Alexander is struggling to stretch a bandaged arm forward. “Come here.” His voice is raspy, tired. One eye is swollen shut and his nose is broken and purple like he got into one hell of a fist fight. His lips swollen and covered in cuts that also mar his jaw twitches like it usually does when he’s nervous. “I have no idea what’s going on. How I got here. Your friend, Bel? She keeps saying the most outrageous things. That we separated and…” he shakes his head and winces from the pain of the burns on his neck.

I’m rooted to the ground, leaning back against the door to keep from falling back. What the hell is going on?

When Alexander sees I haven’t moved from the door, he starts to rise from the bed, but he falls back, writhing in pain. He’s covered in stiches and bandages. “Scar, please.” His eyes shine with hurt and confusion. “I hurt, and I don’t know why.”

Confused, I stare at him. “Quit the dramatics, Alexander. It’s not working. Your wife and children are out there—”

“You are my wife!” he yells, startling me.

My fingers clutch tightly on my purse and my patience cracks like ice. “You left me two years ago, for Bel. You said you loved her. You demanded a divorce from me and took everything we built together. You f****d her on then desk I bought for you! You named your first child—God, no. I’m not doing this with you!”

Alexander releases a pained breath and the machines he’s plugged up to begin to beep loudly, quickly. His breaths are fast, too fast to be normal. His eyes roll back in his head, even as he reaches out for me, breathing my name like I'm the only woman for him. Like he'll die if i don't reach back for his fingers.

My legs move. Not towards Alexander. I’m fleeing from his room before I even realize it.