Chapter 37: Soph

Content warning: References to drugging/spiking

Tiny knives scratched at my throat, sawing away the flesh and leaving a burning acidity in their wake. I rolled over and fumbled for my bedside table to seek out my glass of water. Fatigue fought against my muscles. My hand met only air.

"Sophia? How are you feeling?"

That voice was distorted, far away, but the Scottish accent unmistakable.

Why was Mac in my bedroom?

I forced my eyelids open. The room was dark, illuminated only by table lamps on their dimmest settings. As I dragged myself up into a half-sitting position and looked around, I realised I wasn't in my bedroom at all. I was on the sofa in the living room. Mac's blurred figure sat on the armchair opposite, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, his hands buried in his messy blond hair.

"What am I doing in here?" Each word was another dagger, scraping my throat.

I didn't remember getting home. I couldn't remember even leaving the club. I'd had blackouts before—when I drank, of course—but I hadn't touched alcohol in years. Surely I wouldn't have started again last night?

"Here." A cold glass was pressed into my palm, this time via a London accent. "Drink."

Guzzling back the water, I closed my eyes and tried to revive memories of last night. Dancing with Gabby and Mac. Laughing in the toilets with a few random girls. Selfies by the bar. A normal night.

As my vision came more into focus, my eyes landed on the washing up bowl on the coffee table. Unless cleaning his expensive crystal champagne flutes, Mac always used the dishwasher. Which meant...

"Did I throw up last night? Fuck, I'm sorry, Mac—"

"You were spiked, Sophia." Mark cut straight through my ramble, so matter of fact that at first his words didn't register.

Spiked? What? No, I wasn't.

I clambered to sit fully upright. Dizziness spun the living room into a mist of blurred shapes, eventually settling down once I'd stopped moving.

"I'm very careful with my drinks," I said. "Obsessively so. I mean, you both know how I get about what I eat and drink."

"It was via a needle." Mark strolled round to stand behind Mac, so at least I didn't have to pinball my eyes between both men. "While you were queueing at the bar. A girl noticed and raised the alarm, but he'd already got you. He's in custody now. You're going to feel a bit out of it while the drugs wear off. Maybe a little nauseous. Dizzy. Probably anxious, too. If you need to talk to someone—"

"Jesus, man." Mac stood up and stretched his back. "Give her time to process."

"He's in custody," I repeated.

"Yep," Mac said, before Mark could cut in. "Try to spike a celebrity in a busy bar, and plenty of witnesses catch you doing it. Who'd have thought?"

But why? I'd enjoyed sticking it to the haters these past few weeks, but now regret curled its clammy hand around my throat. Had I asked for this? Provoked it?

"But back to my point," Mark said. "I would recommend you talk to someone. Even if it's just a formality. When you already suffer with anxiety, something like this can set you back even if you don't realise it at first."

I nodded. "I'll book an appointment. Have either of you slept?"

Mac was in grey sweatpants and a hoodie, so at least he'd changed—unlike me whose dignity was protected only by the tan cashmere blanket covering my short dress. As usual, Mark wore a suit. Probably the same one from last night, though I wouldn't have been able to tell otherwise. They all looked the same.

"Not sure this guy ever sleeps." Mac jerked his head in Mark's direction. "But I've dozed. Just thought you'd prefer me to hold back your hair while you puked, rather than your bodyguard."

There was no flippant humour in his words. How many times was I sick last night? I didn't want to ask. It was mortifying enough, but Mac was right: I'd never be able to look Mark in the eye again if he was the one making sure I didn't choke on my own vomit.

A spiking. I'd clubbed enough to know it was more common than ever, but I never expected it to happen to me. What if someone hadn't seen it happen? What if Mark wasn't there? Would this happen again? Did the guy have friends who might try it?

A hard lump clogged my throat. I glanced towards the front door. "Do you think... Do you think they know where we live? I mean, what if they come here?"

"Palmer." Mac sat down beside me and squeezed my shoulder. "This is one of the safest buildings in London. Nobody is capable of getting through all the layers of security. And anyone smart enough to somehow achieve it would be too intelligent to try anything again after getting caught."

"That's not the point. I won't be able to leave the building now without dragging Mark all the way over here."

Fuck. Was my rising anxiety due to the drugs, like Mark had suggested? I scraped a hand through my hair and sank back into the sofa cushions. Luxury Scandinavian leather had never felt so uncomfortable.

"There are units free in the building," Mark said. "I can move in temporarily, just until we're sure this is a one-off."

Hope filling my chest. Yes. Perfect. That could work.

"You wanted to live here anyway, right?" I said. "It's a good excuse for you to do it."

One broad shoulder flexed in a subtle shrug. "It'll just be temporary."

"But it's not an inconvenience?" Hesitation hit me. "Uprooting to move here?"

"It'd be more inconvenient to travel across town regularly. And it's not uprooting. It's temporary."

"Okay. Thank you, Mark."

With a sharp nod, he unfolded his arms and took out his phone.

"Just one more thing," I said. "I don't want either of you mentioning this to Ed. I'll tell him when I next see him. It'll only stress him out to be over there and not here."

Despite his friendship with Ed, I trusted Mark wouldn't say anything if I'd explicitly told him not to. Mac on the other hand...

"Don't know why you're looking at me like that. I'm not exactly on speaking terms with your boyfriend."

I rolled my eyes. "Just don't say anything, okay? He needs to hear it from me."

Hands up in surrender, Mac followed Mark over to the door. When he disappeared into the corridor with him for several minutes, it only proved my point. He might not talk to Ed on a social level, but he was fiercely protective.

*

Just two days later, Mark moved into the building. He was two floors below, so there was little chance of us bumping into each other unless we needed to. I had no idea how he'd managed to secure an apartment on a temporary basis so quickly, but I suspected it involved money and name-dropping. The key to everything in this world.

Meanwhile, Ed had proved once again that the world spun for Teddy Stone. His auction idea had evolved into a silent auction—because apparently you didn't need an auctioneer for that and people would be more likely to spend money privately—and somehow he'd already confirmed twenty guests and five donations.

"How?" I asked during our next catch-up with Becca.

"Charm and charisma, Soph. Don't worry; I forgive you for doubting me."

I swallowed my retort and let Becca take the lead. She spoke about a venue she'd booked, which had given her a discount due to the nature of the event.

"It's pencilled in for next weekend," she said to us. "Does that work for the guests you'd spoken to, Ed?"

His real name sounded funny on her lips. For years she'd lusted after Teddy Stone, said it so many times it was ingrained in my brain. Some form of hostile familiarity had formed between them over the last few months. They clearly still resented one another, but they'd learnt to co-exist and co-operate for the sake of a bigger cause.

"Yes, same date I told them to keep free. I'm also thinking we put on some food, a bar, and a DJ. Make a real spectacle of it. Bar proceeds can go towards the charity."

Even through the video, I could see the hesitation flood Becca's face. Once again Ed was throwing ideas out there that would be a tall order to pull off.

"You think we can do that in a week?" she asked.

"Easily."

Here we go again...

"This doesn't all have to come out of the charity's pocket, either. I can pay for—"

"No." Becca held up a hand to silence him. "This has to be above board. Besides, your legal team don't want you spending any money on me so—"

"I think there's a difference between half a million and a few thousand."

She shook her head. "Don't care. Either we fund it out of the charity or we park the ideas."

"Don't write it off straightaway..."

I shuffled back into the sofa and let them thrash it out. It was refreshing to let someone else argue with him for a change.

One weekend. That's all I'd have with him. Somehow, between the orgasms he owed me, I'd have to find a way to tell him about the spiking. And I'd have to do it without freaking him out.

"Soph?" Ed's velvety voice drifted out of the laptop speaker.

"Sorry." I turned my attention back to the call. "Too used to tuning you out when you argue."

His lips tipped up, but for once he didn't bite back. "I'm going to handle the DJ, Becca will sort the food, can you do the bar?"

"Sure." I had no idea how to source a free bar. Annoyingly, I'd probably need his help.

*

I bought Mark a bottle of whiskey as a house-warming present. While brain-storming the bar idea with Ed, I'd casually asked what he liked to drink. Unfortunately, Ed saw straight through me, but given that he was already aware of Mark wanting to move into the building, he didn't think anything of it.

Later that evening, I ambled downstairs to drop it off. With each tap of my key card, reassurance replaced my previous nerves. This place had security built into every corner. Nobody would be able to reach me. That hadn't stopped me changing all my passwords, just in case someone was savvy enough to attack me through cyberspace instead.

I knocked on Mark's door, curiosity worming its way to the surface. There was no chance of him inviting me in, but I'd love to see how his flat compared to Mac's. What was his taste like? It had to be minimal.

The lock clicked on the opposite side, and I held up the bottle in preparation, only to lower it when a petite blonde greeted me.

"Oh," I said. "Sorry. I think I've got the wrong flat."

I glanced at the number to the right of the door. 24. I'd checked it five times before coming down here.

"Are you Sophia?" the woman asked.

Crap. Now was not the time to be recognised when I was alone without backup.

"Yes." I tried to smile, to trick my thudding heart into believing this was just a harmless encounter. "I am. Sorry to bother you—"

"Mark's just getting out of the shower. Want me to grab him?"

Just getting out of the... Fuck. This was even worse than I thought. It was the right room. And he had company. A flush crept up my neck and heated my face.

"Oh my God. No. Sorry. It's totally fine." I took a breath to calm my rambling tongue. "I'll come back later."

No. Bad idea. If he had a woman here, he wouldn't want me dropping by unannounced. I should have texted him.

"Actually," I said, "No I won't. I'll text him—"

"Sophia?" A deep voice rumbled from behind the blonde.

Just when I thought this couldn't get any more mortifying, I lifted my eyes onto Mark's half-naked body. Dark jeans, and then muscles upon muscles upon muscles.

I whirled around to face away from him, my free hand covering my eyes for good measure.

"I'm sorry!" My face burned. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had company."

"Is everything okay?"

Despite my obvious mortification, Mark's tone was as calm and detached as always. I hoped his companion at least saw a more humane side. Nope. Can't think about that. Cannot think about Mark naked with—

"I'm fine!" I rushed out. "Totally fine. I just came to give you this. A house-warming present."

I kept my eyes on the ground as I turned back towards him and held out the bottle. He wasn't wearing socks. And his feet were massive. Nope. Stopping that train of thought right there.

"Ooh, your favourite!" the blonde gasped. Then her hand slapped against his eight-pack abs. "Don't be rude. Say thank you."

She knew him. Whoever she was, this woman knew him personally, and she wasn't afraid to speak out at him either.

"That wasn't necessary, Sophia," Mark said.

He took the bottle from my outstretched hand, and I forced my gaze back up to his face. Those muscles, though. Fucking hell. They were intimidating. I knew he was fit beneath his suits, but I had no idea he was ripped enough to be a bodybuilder. How did he find time for the gym when he worked 24/7?

"He means thank you," the blonde said to me with a smile. "But hey, it's great to finally meet you! Did you want to come in for a drink?"

"No!" Mark and I said simultaneously, and I wasn't sure which of us was more horrified at the idea.

"I just popped down to drop that off." I flicked my wrist towards the bottle. "I'll leave you in peace. Enjoy."

'Enjoy'? Cringe. Hopefully they assumed I was referring to the whisky and not whatever they'd been doing before I knocked.

Mark had a girlfriend. Or a wife. Or a fuck buddy.

On my walk back to the flat, I fired off a text to Ed.

Me: Just dropped off the whisky at Mark's. A woman opened the door and Mark was shirtless. Kill me now. I'm fucking mortified.

He replied with a crying with laughter face, which wasn't particularly supportive.

Me: It's not funny

Ed: It's hilarious. What did Zoe say?

Me: Zoe?

Ed: His "friend"

The use of quote marks only intrigued me more. What was this woman to him? It was none of my business, really. But curiosity still slithered through my veins. I'd always wanted to see a more humane side to Mark—just preferably without witnessing him half-naked at the same time.

Me: She was lovely. Invited me in. Said no obviously

Ed: She's great. Shame he keeps her hidden away

Me: I didn't even know he had a girlfriend

Ed: He plays it down. Lots of history there. Could write a book about it

Despite his robotic nature with me, I knew Mark had relationships. For a start, he shared a close bond with Ed. Why was it so crazy to think he had a girlfriend? Maybe because he seemed to lack the emotional awareness or sensitivity to harness a relationship. Not to mention the time commitment.

Also... That woman was tiny. And he was huge. How could they even...

No. Can't think about that.

Mark had always been an enigma, and that was the way he needed to stay. 

***

Thank you for reading :) xx

***

Zoe finally made an appearance! Ed told Soph that you could write a book about Mark & Zoe... and I have 🤭 You can read the weekly updates for free on Wattpad or Ream, or you can binge the full book via any of my Ream tiers. 

Just a couple of chapters until the auction when it all kicks off... Any guesses about what might go down there?