Chapter 31 GO F*CK YOURSELF

Chapter 31 GO F*CK YOURSELF
HAYLEY 

Don’t be late my big, fat ass.

Okay, my ass isn’t that big and nowhere near “fat,” but still. The nerve of that man to try and order me around. What was he thinking? That after five years, I’ll trip over my feet trying to do his bidding? 

After Edward finally released me, I made up an excuse to Peter and Dean about not feeling well and ran back to my hotel like my ass was on fire.

I originally wanted to stay back and attend the party to the end just to prove to Edward that I didn’t give two shits about his presence. But after a lot of self reflection, I have decided that it will be best to put a lot of distance between myself and Edward DaSilva. 

That bastard hurt me. He threw our marriage away like six years meant nothing to him, and I hate his guts for making me question my self worth all those years.

I try to convince myself that I’m leaving because I’m way too tempted to claw his eyeballs out of their damn sockets. But deep down, I know the real reason.

Deep down, I know that after five years of fighting to forget him, it took a single touch on my arm to awaken feelings I tried to keep hidden. It took a flick of his hot breath on my skin for my traitorous body to respond like a bitch in heat.

Edward DaSilva is a threat to my wellbeing. And like every other threat, he must be eliminated. Expeditiously.

It takes about thirty minutes to pack my bags. By 11:30 PM on the dot, I bid my little haven farewell and swing the door open… then a gasp of shock bubbles in  my throat at the sight of the broad-shouldered man filling the doorway.

“Hello, Mrs. DaSilva. Long time no see.”

I clutch my chest with one hand, sagging against the door in relief.

“John. How long have you been standing there? You scared me half to death.”

“My apologies, Ms.” He bows slightly, his eyes straying to my bag. “Allow me to get that for you. The jet is already waiting. We should land in Abu Dhabi very soon if we leave right away.”

Oh. I almost forgot Edward said he would send John to “collect” me.

Joke of the century.

He makes to grab my box but I roll it behind my back, out of his reach. 

John steps back, lifting one questioning brow.

“Mrs. DaSilva…”

“First of all, my name is Haley. Hayley Ferguson. Your boss and I divorced five years ago, in case you’re not aware.”

John opens his mouth to respond but as if thinking better, clamps it back shut.

“My apologies, Ms. Ferguson. The boss is waiting. Shall we leave?”

“How did you know which hotel I was staying at? How did you even find my room?”

John gives me a knowing look; “the boss knows everything, Ms.”

The thought that Edward went snooping around looking for information about my whereabouts does not sit well with me. At all.

I straighten, lifting my chin.

“Well, I’m sorry your boss felt confident enough to send you all the way over here, but I’m not going anywhere with you, John. In fact, you just interrupted my trip to the airport. If you’d excuse me, I’m already running late.”

For a moment, John seems start struck. 

“Ms,” he sputters, recovering quickly, “the boss gave explicit orders that I bring you to Abu Dhabi…”

“With all due respect, John, your boss can “explicitly” go fuck himself. Like I said before, I am not going anywhere with you.” I wave a hand in his face;

“Will you leave or do I have to call security?”

For a moment, he doesn't move an inch. I hold my breath, half expecting him to throw me over his shoulder and take off running like some wild Tarzan.

Finally, his face twists in a grimace and he steps back. 

My lungs flood with relief as I roll my box past him.

“I’m sorry you have to work for a dick like Edward,” I say halfheartedly,  patting his shoulder. “I’m sure he treats you like shit. You can always leave if you want.”

John shakes his head, ever the loyal servant.

“The boss treats me well, Ms. Ferguson.”

“Aw, too bad.”

I move to leave, but his voice stops me; “Ms. Ferguson.”

I turn, just in time to catch a strange emotion flickering in his eyes. It vanishes before I can decipher what it is.

“The boss has been searching for you for five years.”

I blink, my lips parting in shock.

“What?”

This is definitely some kind of joke.

All Edward wanted was enough space to properly flaunt his relationship with Victoria. And I gave him just that.

He has no idea that Estelle exists. Why the hell would he look for me?

“I’m sure he’ll explain everything to you if you agree to go to Abu Dhabi.”

I shake my head, my curiosity and confusion evaporating as quickly as it came. Of course Edward never looked for me. John was just trying to bait me into coming to Abu Dhabi. 

I’m not sure why, but my stomach sinks with disappointment.

“Goodbye, John.”

“Ms. Ferguson. If you would reconsider —”

I pause, throwing one last glance over my shoulder.

“Like I said before, tell your boss to go fuck himself. Preferable without a condom.”



EDWARD 

I hate waiting.

I’m not used to it. 

I’m used to people falling over their feet in their haste to do my bidding, because they understand that keeping me waiting comes with severe consequences.

But not tonight.

I’ve been pacing for the past two hours, my eyes permanently glued to the damn clock. Midnight has come and gone, but Hayley is still nowhere to be seen. 

She’s one hour late, and here I am, still pacing. Still shooting glances at the fucking door, wishing I had the power to order it to magically produce my wife.

My wife. I shut my eyes, savoring the satisfaction that word alone gives me.

Hayley might’ve signed our divorce agreement, but I never did. She’s still mine legally, and in every other way that fucking counts.

Hayley, why aren’t you here yet?

I told myself I wouldn’t call John. He’s one of the few people I trust with my life. If anything goes wrong, I’m sure he’d let me know.

But I have never prided myself on being a patient man. I reach for my phone just as it rings. 

“John. Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry, boss. I did everything I could to get Mrs. DaSilva on the jet, but she refused to come with me.”

I don’t realize that I’m squeezing the plastic water bottle I guzzled earlier until it lets out a loud pop!

I toss it across the room, gaining no form of satisfaction when it bounces off the wall.

Frankly, I knew getting Hayley to Abu Dhabi was never going to be easy. 

A part of me still struggles to accept that she’s no longer the woman I married — the sweet, meek angel who would’ve done just about anything to make me happy. 

The Hayley I met today had fire in her eyes. The kind of fire that stoked my interest and sharpened my hunger.

“Where is she?” I growl, scooping my keys from the coffee table. 

She doesn’t want to see me? Fine. I’ll go to her. But one way or another, I’ll make her understand that showing up to my city on another man’s arm was a big fucking mistake. 

“I’m sorry, boss, but she is no longer at the hotel. Or in the country.”

I freeze, my blood turning to ice.

“What do you mean? Where is she?”

“Mrs DaSilva booked a flight back to London,” John sighs. “I followed her to the airport, hoping I could change her mind. But she was adamant.”

“Fucking hell.” The curse slips past my lips, fire blooming in my chest as I sink into the nearest sofa.

I press a fist to my chest, trying and failing horribly to calm my throbbing heart.

Fuck, I hate this. This feeling that she’s slipping through my fingers again. I fucking hate it.

“Sir, are you there? Your wife left a message for you.”

I perk up at that, “really?”

“Yes.” A pause, then, “she said you should go fuck yourself. Explicitly. And preferably without a condom.”