Chapter 133 (1/2)
Fuck. ”Yes?”
”Are you okay?”
”I'll be out in a moment.”
”Boyce Fox is here to see you.”
Shit. ”Show him into the meeting room. I'll be there in a minute.”
”Do you want some tea?”
”Please.”
After my lunch - another cream cheese and salmon bagel, which I manage to keep down - I sit staring listlessly at my computer, looking for inspiration and wondering how Christian and I are going to resolve this huge problem.
My BlackBerry buzzes, making me jump. I glance at the screen -
it's Mia. Jeez, that's all I need, her gushing and enthusiasm. I hesitate, wondering if I could just ignore it, but courtesy wins out.
”Mia,” I answer brightly.
”Well, hello there, Ana - long time no speak.” The male voice is familiar, and my world stops spinning.
Fuck! My scalp prickles and all the hair on my body stands to attention as adrenaline floods through my system.
It's Jack Hyde.
Chapter Twenty-two
”Jack.” My voice has disappeared, choked by fear. What does he want?
How is he out of jail? Why does he have Mia's phone? The blood drains from my face, and I feel dizzy.
”You do remember me,” he says, his tone soft. I sense his bitter smile.
”Yes. Of course.” My answer is automatic as my mind races.
”You're probably wondering why I called you.”
”Yes.”
Hang up.
”Don't hang up. I've been having a chat with your little sister-inlaw.”
What? Mia! No! ”What have you done?” I whisper, trying to quell my fear.
”Listen here, you prick-teasing, gold-digging whore. You f**ked up my life. Grey f**ked up my life. You owe me. I have the little bitch with me now. And you, that cock-sucker you married, and his whole f**king family are going to pay.”
Hyde's contempt and bile shock me. His family? What the hell?
”What do you want?”
”I want his money. I really want his f**king money. If things had been different, it could have been me. So you're going to get it for me. I want five million dollars, today.”
”Jack, I don't have access to that kind of money.”
He snorts his derision. ”You have two hours to get it. That's it - two hours. Tell no one or this little bitch gets it. Not the cops. Not your prick of a husband. Not his security team. I will know if you do. Understand?” He pauses and I try to respond, but my panic and fear seal my throat.
”You understand!” he shouts.