Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Abigail was squatting to put the shoes away on a lower shelf when the phone fell out of her jeans back pocket. It landed with a loud thud on the vinyl flooring. She had grabbed it and put it on a higher shelf when she raced out of there and forgot about it.
Abigail, now stared at the doorknob for a good five minutes, refusing to take another step further. She had made it past the main living area and was about to enter the office that led to his bedchamber. She knew he was in the office. She could hear him swearing and keys typing.
Her fingers clamped and unclamped the knob. They were shaking. She wasn't sure if they were shaking from the cold or the nervousness. She wished she didn't have to see him again but god how she needed that phone.
At last, Abigail knocked and announced herself. Suddenly, everything went quiet from inside the room as she waited for permission. The dreadful silence made her think that maybe he didn't hear her. She raised her knuckles, about to knock again.
"Come in." His deep voice seeped through the door.
She took a deep breath and entered the office. He sat at the desk, heavily concentrating on a laptop with a stack of files on one side.
"I… I'm sorry. I think I left my phone here--"
Lucas waved a hand at her, pausing her immediately. His gesture was telling her to get away from his presence and do whatever she came here for.
Luckily, this was in Abigail's favor. She would rather have as little interaction with him as possible until he leaves. Making her way through the office, into his bedroom, passed the bathroom and to the walk-in closet, she went straight to the shelf.
Bare.
Where's her phone?
She bit her nails. She could've sworn she left it right here. Maybe it was a lower shelf. She looked. None. Maybe it was a higher shelf. None.
Abigail heard footsteps behind her. She turned around just in time to see Lucas walking past the closet entrance and heard a faucet turned on. Her chest tightened and her breath caught in her throat.
She saw the image of Lucas. She blinked. Her heart rate fastened. Her breathing rapid. He filled the whole doorway. He got closer and closer. His stature loomed over her. She backed up. His eyes were bloodshot.
"I've killed before," they said. "You're mine."
She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to scream, wanting to get out of here as soon as possible. Her head felt dizzy and her breathing was short and quick. Heat rose up her neck as if strangling her.
"Hey." A voice called from across the room.
Abigail opened her eyes and looked up. Lucas peeked a head inside the closet. He wasn't even by the doorway. His face was freshly washed with shiny dots of water dancing on his gorgeous face. His body came into view and he held a small towel, drying his hands and dabbing his cheeks.
She had imagined all of it, and she wasn't feeling well. Even a little perspiration had appeared on her forehead. Her eyes were wet but not noticeable from this distance. Without saying anything, she dashed out of the closet.
"You looking for this?"
Lucas held a phone in his hand. She turned and looked at it. This stupid device almost gave her a panic attack. She took the phone and thanked him. It was best to leave right away than to stay and have him question her strange attitude.
"Before you leave, who's been keeping my quarters?"
She halted in her trails again. Unable to face him, she answered without turning around.
"Your Housekeeper, Maid Harriet."
"Have her change the entire office with the new equipment I just ordered. I want everything in here out. Supplies will arrive tomorrow morning. My secretary will be of assistance to her as soon as she lands."
As he said this, he made his way back to the desk in long strides. She followed suit and waited patiently in front of him until he finished, though she could barely hold herself up. Her face was drained of colors.
"You may go." He batted at her from underneath. His eyes showed no concern for her wellness.
~~~~~~~~
John Campbell had never hated anyone as much as he hated Lucas Barrington. His very existence irritated John to the deepest part of his soul. The guy could drop dead tomorrow and it wouldn't make a difference in the world. That was why he could care less if the Young Master made it to his wedding or not. Very much preferred his absence, though.
As much as they were father and son, Lucas and Sir Barrington could not be any more different. The Campbells owed their whole lives to Sir Barrington's generosity, while the Young Master put them through hell.
Growing up, Lucas was against John in every possible way. They squabbled frequently as children, always over petty toys and slick comebacks. John, always getting lectured by his Father afterward, and Lucas, leaving without so much as a warning. The privilege of being born with a silver spoon could not be any more true.
As much as Sir Barrington loved John and Abigail, he adored his only child even more and that gave him an overbearing personality. There was never a time when Lucas didn't get what he wanted. The newest toys would be his first, then passed down to John when he got bored of them.
What's truly evil was when he came back for those he already gave away. The son-of-a-bitch knew the exact moment when John had gotten attached to a toy and will purposely retrieve it.
And then came sweet, sweet Abigail. When she was born, John was seven and Lucas was nine. The minute John saw her, he knew he loved her. And he had to protect her from the same hell of the Young Master.
Abigail was his savior from the tyrant rich kid. He would avoid Lucas if he babysat her in the nursery, and he knew Lucas would never come to the nursery. Abigail was his ticket to freedom. In her own little way of being born, she was protecting him. And he later protected her.
John hadn't seen Lucas in three years, and damn, it was a great three years without him in the Manor. Why did he have to break the streak now?
John thought it would be better to seek the man rather than an unexpected encounter for their first meeting. At least in this way, he had control of the situation.
He was told by the maids that they saw him out back on the patio. The sun was rather bright but gladly hiding behind white clouds. The summer breeze was still in the air at this time of year. The first week of August usually had the best weather. It was a small reason why he chose this date.
When John got to the patio, he didn't see anyone there. With hands on his hips, his eyes scanned the table still daddled with light refreshments.
"The bastard just left," he commented. "Glad he saw me coming."
His feigned disappointment cleared when his phone rang. He saw the screen and the corner of his lips pulled up. Claire had arrived.
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