I grabbed the umbrella on my way to the door. It had been too long since I had talked to my angels.
I was surprised to feel that the breeze was warm and the grass was soft under my feet when I stepped outside and walked toward the end where my orchids were probably dying. The last time I was out here, someone had brutally murdered, or accidentally plucked, the very last bud of its species.
Wrapping my hands around my waist, I hurried over to my orchids. But instead of my tiny plant standing, or more like leaning all over the fence, there was a full grown collection of many bloomed mystique orchids, more than I had ever seen at one place, covering half the area.
Did that just grow?
I walked over, touching one of the delicate buds to make sure I wasn’t imagining this. No, they were real. When did these get planted? Looking at the fertiliser at the bottom and the bag leaning against the fence, I’d say pretty recently.
The sound of someone clearing their throat nearly made me scream. I spun around, my heart pounding in my chest. "Oh you," I exclaimed upon seeing Darius, who raised an eyebrow at me.
"Is it raining?"
"What?"
He nodded toward the umbrella I was still holding. I scratched my head. "Oh." I twirled the umbrella around in my hand. "Just in case it rains."
Darius shook his head and stepped forward. He was muttering, "I knew I shouldn't have asked him. Can't do one thing properly."
"Ask who what?"
Was I missing some part of the story here? Probably a massive chunk because I was confused, and it wasn't just because I was sleepy.
I looked down at what Darius was holding. Files.
"Everything okay?" I asked, confused, as he seemed to be looking around the garden. It was my turn to raise an eyebrow when he nodded and scratched the back of his neck.
"We need to talk."
CHAPTER FIFTYONE
"Nope," I said, popping the 'p' and watching his face turned into a look of pure confusion.
“What?"
And then I realised this was Darius I was talking to, a man who got no sense of humour. I sighed dramatically. "Yes, we can talk." It was not like we weren't doing that before. Attempt at a joke, and failed. Maybe I should just keep the jokes to myself and maybe Rose and Adrian every now and then.
"Is there a problem?" I asked, suddenly feeling the warm breeze go cold. I wrapped my arms around my waist, shifting to my other foot, looking on as he seemed to be thinking. Was everything ok? Did someone get hurt?
Oh god, tell me my mum got hurt. Suddenly this night seemed brighter. Sure, that just made me an ungrateful child, but she was a bitch to grow up with. Hell, I just wish that if I became a mother and have my own children, I wouldn’t turn out like her.
Or maybe it was more serious, maybe someone was dying. That was a possible reason for someone to look pale and scared.
"No, no problem." He cleared his throat, as if to prepare himself to what he was about to say, bringing me out of my mini moment.
"Then?"
I looked at the files he was holding in his hand. This had something to do with work, business, whatever he did behind his computer screen. And then it hit me. Could it be about James? Was he suing us for not going through with the business?
I haven't heard Darius or Adrian mention his name after...what happened. Could it be connected? That must be why he looked so nervous and, dare I say it, slightly pale? Or maybe it was his turn to come down with something. Too bad I wasn't as muscular as Margaret to put him to bed.
I decided, since neither of us was getting anywhere, to ask straight to the point. Darius sort of lacked those skills, it seemed. How he conducted his business meetings beats me.
"It's James, isn't it? Yes, I know."
His eyebrows furrowed. "What?"
"It's okay. I'm pretty sure that after what you did to him, he won't be bothering us." I waved my hand and took a step closer to close the distance between us.
I continued. "Plus, I know a good lawyer if you want. Remember Jeremy whom we met the day I had to wear the cupcake dress? Bad day; never mention again. But yes, his father is a lawyer. A really good one."
Darius just gave me a blank stare, as though I spoke in another language he couldn’t understand. I wasn't sure if it was because I was rattling and he didn't catch a word or because he had no idea what I was talking about.
"This isn't about James," he finally said.
Oh, probably the latter. No idea what I was talking about.
"Then what?"
Maybe I sounded a bit cranky but he was beating around the bush and I was standing out in the cold two to midnight freezing my ass off, when I really should be in bed.
He looked down and took my hands in his and I raised an eyebrow. Is he okay? Was he dying? What was this, midnight confession night? Might as well be, but at least his hands were warm.
"I need to ask you something." He looked so absolutely serious that he had my undivided attention.
You just did. Okay, maybe not ask since he didn't phrase that as a question. It was more like a demand.