Chapter 207 Devastating
Alexander agreed without hesitation. "Sure."
A weight lifted from Arabella's chest.
Perhaps pregnancy sapped her, or the week's toll weary from relentless days, Arabella slumbered through the homeward flight.
When the plane landed, Alexander gently woke her. "Arabella, wake up."
Eyes fluttering open to enveloping night. Distant Majestic City Airport lights shimmered. Late, far too late. She bolted upright, cheeks burning; such deep slumber unplanned.
Alexander's hands drifted instinctively to knead her shoulders. Arabella parted her lips to object, but he forestalled: "Pregnancy floods you with oxytocin, relaxing loosening every joint." A massage will help."
Arabella glanced down at her still-flat belly, speechless. Mere peas in size, yet he fussed as if birth loomed imminent.
Mercifully, his shoulder knead lasted moments before release. The attendant arrived, ushering first-class passengers plane-ward.
Outside the airport, Arabella checked her phone. After ten already. By the time they got home, it would be nearly midnight.
Probably because she'd slept so much, Fatigue fled entirely. Fresh from the shower, she sank into the couch, devouring two days' emails and messages.
Alexander didn't go to bed either. He lounged nearby on the couch, laptop aglow, ostensibly immersed but a closer glance betrayed his wandering eyes.
After a while, He began cataloging his empire: proxy-led firms, shadow-held ventures, every thread of control.
There was absolutely no way he was giving up on Arabella. If she wouldn't come to him, he'd go to her.
Toil relentlessly, perhaps he'd yet claim a wedding's vow, formal and forever. The living room hushed.
Arabella finally glanced up, startled to find Alexander rooted. "Bedtime for you?"
Alexander smiled, about to answer when his phone rang. He glanced at it. "It's Frank. Let me take this."
He set aside the laptop, answering. Frank's voice slurred through, thick with drink: "Alex, free? Drinks?"
Alexander didn't want to leave Arabella alone at home this late. "How about tomorrow? Tonight's not good for me."
He set aside the laptop, answering. Frank's voice slurred through, thick with drink: "Alex, free? Drinks?"
Silence stretched. Frank, tallying bottles: "Three cases of beer." Alexander's face tightened. "Where?"
Three cases of beer—even with beer's low alcohol content, that wasn't a joke. Frank's iron tolerance barely clung to consciousness impressive, yet Alexander fretted poisoning. The location dropped. Alexander clicked off, dialing Blake. Ripped from slumber, Blake groused: "Alex, cruel torment this hour!"
Alexander ignored the complaint. "Frank's wasted. Go check on him. If he's in bad shape, "Haul him to hospital, three beer cases down." Blake yelped: "Three cases? His cap's two bottles! What fueled that folly?"
"Something must have happened. Just go check on him." Alexander gave him Frank's location.
Blake agreed and hung up.
Arabella had overheard every word. "You're not rushing out?" "Blake's got it." No more said. Alexander smiled. "Late-night snack?"
Arabella had slumbered since afternoon, unfed. He fretted her hunger. She felt none, shook her head. "I'm fine. Eat if you like."
She rose, drifting to the bedroom. Appetite soured solo, Alexander trailed minutes later.
---
Half an hour later, Blake called. "Don't worry. Got him to the hospital. They're pumping his stomach. Doctor says it's mild alcohol poisoning. The guy definitely puked a lot."
Alexander relaxed. "Any idea what caused it?"
Blake laughed coldly. "What else? Tiffany. She aches for marriage, but Frank's cousin perished two months past. Wed her now, and Grandfather snaps his legs.
Alexander frowned. "Dumped him for refusing?" Tiffany's ruthlessness fit the guess. Blake chuckled. "Not quite." Probably Tiffany said some harsh things that hurt Frank's feelings. He couldn't deal with it and drank himself stupid."
Alexander fell silent, sighed soft pity for his friend, urged Blake to guard Frank, then hung up.
Frank had regained consciousness. Blake mid-scold, rapid steps echoed. Door burst, Tiffany rushed in, breathless.
Seeing Frank in the hospital bed, she looked heartbroken. She flung herself at him, sobbing. "Why guzzle so much? Don't you know I'd fret? How dare you neglect yourself like this?" How are we supposed to grow old together like this?"
Frank's gut twisted at her tears. He soothed quick: "I'm fine, truly. No more drink, I swear. Please, no tears."
Blake was about to make his exit when Tiffany suddenly looked up at him. "Mr. White, deepest thanks for tonight. Frank's a fool, sorry for the hassle." Blake waved it off. "No sweat. Brothers stick tight."
Tiffany looked embarrassed. "Tell you what—let me treat everyone to dinner tomorrow. "My thanks for tending Frank. I'll host Mr. FitzRoy and his wife too. Tomorrow night work?"
Blake scratched his head. "I mean, I'm free."Works for me. Check with Alex." Tiffany smiled. "Count on it."
"Tonight?" Alexander frowned. "I'm not free tonight. You guys go ahead without me."
"Tiffany specifically asked for you and Arabella to come," Frank said. "She craves your good graces, you know? Tonight no-go? Tomorrow instead?"
Alexander glanced up, Arabella emerged from the bath. He passed Frank's plea. Moment's pause, then her nod.
"Tomorrow night works," Alexander told Frank.
Frank sounded relieved and hung up.
Post-breakfast, Alexander claimed the drive to work. Her refusal stirred; he cut in: "These babies? Half mine." Taking care of you is my responsibility. Once they're born, I'll back off."
Arabella yielded, no arguing that claim so he drove her. At the Office
Gillian darted over, breathy: "Faye's AWOL still."
Arabella paused and looked over. Faye's desk was clean and empty.
"She might bolt for real," Gillian fretted. "Then what? If you hadn't sniffed out her boyfriend's cheat, sure." "But now, cheating beau, her pregnancy, blind love? I fear she'll snap drastic."
Arabella didn't know what to do either. As friends, they should warn Faye. But thinking about how much Faye had invested in Karl made her anxious.
"Let's see how tonight goes," Arabella said.
Gillian sighed. "Dinner yes, but work? No. Leave expires today, no more extensions."
Arabella shared the strain. Leave alone? Fine. But six straight no-shows, reasonless? Unjustifiable.
Even with the company's pregnancy benefits, Faye had to apply for them herself. Arabella couldn't do it on her behalf.
"One more day," Arabella said, lip caught. "Tonight's the word. No return? Done."
Gillian nodded. "Guess that's all we can do."
Distraction clung through day's end. Alexander called: waiting downstairs.
Gillian perked. "Ride with your husband? Mine's restaurant-bound, meets us there."
He told me to take a cab."
"Why cab cash when you can freeload? Save for worthwhile. Arabella paused, Alexander's car..."
Seeing her waver, Gillian thought she didn't want to and felt bad. But then Arabella nodded. "Sure, let's go together."
Gillian made a mental note not to be so presumptuous in the future. Didn't want to impose.
Downstairs, the sleek Rolls-Royce loomed, Gillian gaped, grasping Arabella's pause. "This... this..."
Gillian swallowed hard, incredulous. "Arabella, didn't you say your second husband sold insurance? How can he afford a car like this?"
Arabella didn't know how to explain. "It's... complicated. But no, he doesn't sell insurance."
Gillian thumbs-upped. "Anthony who? This eclipses him! Sneaky minx, hoarding the upgrade."
She sighed dramatically. "Too bad I got married young. "Else I'd beg your man for rich intros." Arabella laughed. "Want it? Ditch yours."
Gillian waved. "Nah, can't ditch the man who wed me broke. Penniless, sure, but sweet. Satisfied."
They got in the car. Alexander was in the driver's seat. He turned around to greet Gillian. "Hi."
Gillian waved. "Nah, can't ditch the man who wed me broke. Penniless, sure, but sweet. Satisfied."