Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twenty

"But, too much is at stake to fall apart," I finish for him, nodding slowly. "I know. Don't worry about me."

He chuckles. "Worrying about you is what brought us together in the first place, Scarlett. That's not going away."

I hear myself sigh. "Tell me this is almost over."

He presses his lips to my hands, one by one, and obliges me, lying through his teeth.

We both know there's no way to know how long this will last.

...

I shut the door to the limo and hurry into the lobby to Norman's building. Hurrying is the only way I get around anywhere now. When I'm safely inside, my step relaxes as I make my way over to retrieve Norman's mail, knowing neither of them have remembered. I fish out the pile but a smaller note on top sashays to the ground, landing face down. I bend down and turn it over, and nearly drop it in shock.

He was there tonight. He better have kept his distance.

One word and I will make him regret the day he ever laid eyes on you. Money laundering is no small offence, Scarlett. Be careful.

I grit my teeth, pissed that Dixon was smart enough to add the crime before he left this, knowing I wouldn't be able to show this to anyone without incriminating Giovanni in the process. I resist crumbling it up, quivering in place, too angry to move.

"Excuse me, dear."

My head snaps to the side, finding a small, fragile lady waiting to get her mail.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I apologize, forcing myself to get away quickly. My eyes dart to the door, wondering when he was here, wishing I could go to the front desk and ask. Instead, I stride to the elevators and click the button repeatedly until the doors begin to part.

I hop off the elevator when I reach the penthouse, confronted by Norman's two bodyguards he stationed outside the door, to ensure our protection. They don't speak to me, to anyone really. I'm too distracted to try. I open the door and enter, immediately calling out for Monica.

"In the gym!"

After dropping my purse and the unimportant mail onto the table, my heels clink loudly against the ground as I head towards their indoor gym. Always determined to look her best, Monica is drenched in sweat, running on the treadmill.

"How was the event?" she asks when she spots me in the wall to wall mirror in front of her.

"The usual," I lie. "How is Norman? He wasn't doing well when I sent him home."

"Oh? He wasn't? I'm not sure... he was already in the room when I got home. I figured he was asleep."

I blink at her, concealing my shock. Her husband has stage four cancer and she doesn't think it's a good idea to check on him when she gets home? "Oh, well, he might be. I'll go check on him."

"Let me know if you need me," she replies, distractedly. I exit the room, frowning at her lack of concern. She's significantly gotten more distant over the weeks, and I've noticed how she pulls herself away from the house whenever Norman seems even the slightest bit ill. She's always been affectionate with him, even with the odd amount years between them. This is worrisome.

I'm beginning to think she can't handle what's happening to him. Or worse, that she just doesn't want to.

I make it back to his bedroom, and crack the door open slightly. The lights are off, and after scanning the area, I find him sleeping in bed. I walk over to the edge of the bed, worried by how pale he is. Hesitantly, I reach out and touch his forehead, gasping when my skin burns.