Authors note: A huge thank you to everyone who has read and commented on the series so far. For new readers, this is part of a longer series, and it's recommended you start from the beginning for full context. All feedback is gratefully received. Thank you!
My mind went into auto pilot as I paced through the London night. I didn't realise I'd actually broken into a run until I arrived at the tube station, dripping with sweat and hair completely dishevelled. When the train arrived, I sat down, and tried to take stock of all the information spinning through my head.
All the pictures Suzanne had shown me; Ruth's comments in the gym; it all painted a completely different picture of Conrad to the one I'd experienced. We'd had our moments for sure, but didn't any couple?
What if Suzanne had been right all along though? How would I ever live that down? She'd only shown me pictures and articles that were freely available. She hadn't manipulated anything. Perhaps I had been blinded by Conrad's wealth and glamour. The only thing I knew for certain was that, to preserve the remaining parts of my sanity, I had to find out once and for all.
I got off the tube at Canary Wharf, and headed straight for the Pan Peninsula Tower. All the way, a fear of the unknown clung to me like it must do to the condemned man awaiting his sentence. At least I'd know by the end of the night whether my stay of execution had been extended or not. I entered the building through a huge glass revolving door and headed straight for the intercom. I pushed the button for his apartment, with no idea what I'd actually say when he answered.
No response.
I pushed it again.
Nothing.
Starting to panic, I jammed my finger down on the button again, this time holding it down for a good five seconds.
Still nothing.
He said he'd be home tonight. Where the hell was he? I thought of what he might be doing. I pictured him with Erin. Out for dinner, drinks, then god knows what. Before I vomited, I reassured myself that my nightmare scenario was impossible. I'd been speaking to him a little more than an hour ago afterall. Then, the master stroke hit me. If I needed to speak to him, I should just phone him.
Feeling a little more reassured, I reached into my bag for my phone.
Oh for fucks sake.
I rifled through my bag, paused, then rifled through it again. My keys, purse and makeup were all accounted for, but my phone had performed a Houdini act. I'd obviously left the house so quickly that I'd forgotten to pick it up.
My mood swung back to one of desperation. I scanned the foyer, praying Conrad would enter and rescue me. My hopes fell to the security guard, sat behind a desk in a smart navy suit.
"Excuse me," I said. "I don't suppose you've seen the owner of apartment 446 have you?"
He looked up from his computer screen with a glazed expression. I must have been the first person to have spoken to him all evening.
"I can't say I have," he replied. "In fact, I don't think I've seen him since Monday."
So he hadn't been home aftetall. Knowing I'd been lied to felt unbearable, and I stormed out of the foyer. My eyes welled up as I paced around the enormous tower block, cursing under my breath. He had to be with Erin, and the thought of that made me feel like I'd been stabbed in the stomach.
Eventually, the hopelessness of my situation hit me, and I slumped down on the pavement. At that very moment, the heavens opened, epitomising my current mood. Even with the rain drenching me from head to toe, I couldn't muster the strength to get up. Instead, I just sat there and sobbed, no idea what my future held.
I knew I had no choice but to go home and reconcile with Suzanne. While the idea felt as appetising as cleaning our oven with a toothbrush, I knew I had to get out of the pouring rain too. With that in mind, I hauled myself from the roadside and made my way back to the tube station.
With the rain unrelenting, I moved quickly, avoiding the puddles that had quickly formed. The streets were largely deserted, but as I hurried between bus shelters and shop fronts in an attempt to dodge the downpour, I couldn't help but notice a shadowy figure about fifty metres behind me.
Shit, was I being followed?
It had to be my mind playing tricks on me again, but I'd second guessed myself so many times this week that I decided to make sure. Very deliberately, I turned down a side road. I knew it didn't lead anywhere, and after walking for another thirty seconds or so, I turned around, hoping to dispel any fears.
My heart sank. Not only had he followed me, but the shadowy figure had actually gotten closer. A long, dark coat covered him from head to toe, sensible attire in this weather, but did nothing to reduce the adrenaline flooding my veins.
I had to shake him off somehow. I walked as fast as I could without breaking into a run, intermittently looking back to check the progress of my pursuer. Seeing him draw closer, I panicked, and peeled off down an even smaller side road.
This would ultimately prove to be my undoing. I didn't know the roads well around here, and to my horror, my new route turned out to be a short cul de sac.
I looked back. My stalker followed just ten metres behind me now, close enough for him to see the terror in my eyes. I tried to run, but it was pointless. He grabbed me like a lion pouncing on an antelope, pinning me against a wall. I tried to cry out, but he forced a hand over my mouth before I could utter a syllable.
Looking into my attacker's eyes for the first time, I shook uncontrollably. His expression was cold and calculated. Cleary, I wasn't his first victim. Tears streamed down my face again, smearing my mascara.
Calmly, he reached inside his coat, and I tried to scream as he withdrew a knife.
"Don't you dare make a fucking sound," he hissed, pressing the long, silver blade to my throat, removing the hand from my mouth.
"Please... Please," I begged.
He grabbed my hand bag, and rummaged for a few seconds before withdrawing my purse. He opened it up, only to look disappointed at its meagre contents. After pausing for a second, he took my credit card, tossing the remains on the pavement beside us.
Still holding the knife to my throat, he moved his head close enough for me to smell his vulgar breath. "I'm not done with you, stay still," he said coldly, droplets of his saliva landing on my face.
I'd prayed my ordeal was almost over, but feared it may only just be beginning as he pulled at my coat. His free hand struggled with the zip at first, before eventually forcing it open.
"No... No..." I pleaded, my body still shaking from head to toe, but it was useless. He grabbed at my waist, and I howled with dismay as he worked his way up my side.
I knew where his hand was going, and with nothing I could do to prevent it, prepared myself for how it would feel. His fingers felt harsh and intrusive; ready to take what they wanted. However, with his hand just millimetres from my breast, a pair of headlights came flying round the corner.
They belonged to a large 4x4, which screeched to a halt just feet from us. The driver piled out, and sprinted towards my attacker. He dived at him head first and rugby tackled him to the ground, sending the knife flying in the process.
With my adrenaline reserves long since used up, I collapsed to the floor again, watching on as my saviour repeatedly pummelled my attacker. Finally satisfied that he'd been subdued, he stood up and walked towards me, giving me a clear view of his face as he moved into the light.
"Sir?"
Conrad looked down at me, wide eyed and open mouthed. He removed his coat, and crouched down, wrapping it around me like a giant blanket.
"I was so worried when I saw you'd come here," he said, holding me in a tight embrace.
I didn't know what to do with so many emotions running through my head. I nestled my head into his shoulder and began to cry uncontrollably again. Conrad continued to cradle me, stroking my arm.
"It's ok, you're safe now."
His embrace was the safe space I needed. I just wanted him to hold me forever. Eventually, my breathing softened, and I looked up at him through teary eyes.
"How did you know where I was, Sir?"
He pulled his phone from his pocket.
"I get a notification on this whenever someone buzzes my intercom. I wasn't expecting anyone tonight, so I called security immediately to find out what was going on. I set off as soon as I realised you were there."
"But how did you find me here, Sir?"
He leaned in and kissed me on the forehead. "That required a lot of luck. Security were able to tell me the direction you'd set off in by looking at CCTV, but after that it was simply guesswork."
He stood up, and held out a hand which I gratefully took. Once I was on my feet, he wrapped his arms around me again, holding me tight like a mother bear protecting its cub.
"I don't know what to say, Sir," I said. "I have no idea what would've happened without you."
"You don't have to say anything," he replied. "The choker round your neck symbolises more than just your submission. It means you're mine to cherish and keep safe too."
"Thank you, Sir, but where were you if you weren't here at home?"
"I have some explaining to do I think, Miss James, but that can wait for now," he released me from his arms. "Let's get you back into the warm and into some dry clothes."
I followed him back to the car, which I identified as a hulking black Range Rover, and he opened the passenger door for me. As I got in, I looked over my shoulder to where my attacker still lay motionless.
"Is he going to be okay?"
"I couldn't care less to be perfectly honest. Someone will find him" Conrad replied. "The person I'm worried about is you. Come on. Let's go."
It didn't take long for me to realise how Conrad had reached me so quickly. Even at night, the London streets were packed, but Conrad drove fast and methodically, weaving between cars and utilising every horsepower the Range Rover had to offer.
"You were asking where I was this evening, Miss James," he said, pulling around the outside of a bus. "I take the blame for not telling you, but I actually have another residence."
"What do you mean, Sir?"
