Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
None of the staff got a proper look at him. It’s a busy kitchen and people are constantly moving around, so his movements wouldn’t have attracted their attention. All anyone saw was his back after he threw the gas bomb and turned to run – a man dressed all in black.
Not only have the police failed to find any witnesses, they don’t even seem to be trying to find out where the arsonist bought his supplies from either.
They aren’t the real problem though. I accepted long ago that unless a crime goes viral for some reason, the police don’t exactly rush themselves to solve crimes. The real problem is the damned journalists. I get calls from them all day long asking for a comment on this or that. At first, I refused to speak to them at all.
It was Amelia who convinced me I should do an interview with at least the local paper. She said my lack of comments made it look like I didn’t care. I do care. I hate that people died in one of my restaurants and that people got hurt. I wanted to show that and so I did end up doing an interview. Unfortunately, someone brought Amelia up to the stage, and stood her by my side.
There was nothing I could do but carry on.
I talked about how angry and saddened I was about the loss of life, and about how someone must know something, and pleaded with them to come forward.
I made all of the right comments about the investigation, saying the police were doing their best and that they had a few lines of enquiry ongoing and so on – it was all bullshit of course, but it was what they had told me - and the interview made the front page of the local newspaper. The photo and a few direct quotes from the interview have made other papers too and at least now the journalists seem to have lost interest in me for the most part. I guess the scoop isn’t much use when you’re not the first one to get it.
I’ve filed a claim on my insurance for the building and its contents, and I already have a team in place starting to work on the rebuilding of the restaurant. And it’s going to be a total reconstruction. The place pretty much burned to the ground and the empty shell the fire left behind was deemed unsafe. My developer knocked the shell to the ground, and he now has a team of contractors working around the clock to rebuild the building.
All of the staff from the restaurant who survived the fire have been given a generous compensation payment, and anyone who needed hospitalization has had their bill picked up by the company. They’re all on retainers now, still getting paid their full salary on the understanding they come back to work when the new restaurant is built.
None of this is able to distract me from the fact that Jerome and his men still haven’t been able to find Igor. Fucking Igor. He’s the bane of my existence and it really pisses me off to know I gave that son of a bitch a chance and I am now living to regret it. It’s like he’s just vanished into thin air. But he hasn’t. He’s not his father. He’s a spoiled, entitled little shit, and he’ll fuck up somewhere along the line and reveal himself… and when he does, I’ll be waiting. I’d feel better if that was sooner rather than later though. After the picture of Amelia and me appeared in the newspapers, it became clear I have someone I care about.
Someone who can be used against me.
I have barely let Amelia out of my sight since the fire. Of course, I have to go to work, but while I’m there, I’m confident she’s safe. She works exclusively from my home estate now. I have convinced her to begin studying to be a lawyer. I have increased the security on my estate, and I know she’s safe there. As soon as we finish work, we spend the evenings together.
She wants to go out tonight though.
I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t be put off. She said she refuses to live like a recluse and if I don’t want to go out, she’ll go out on her own. That persuaded me. How can I keep her safe if I’m not even with her? We’re going to one of my clubs. Although I’m a little nervous about Amelia’s safety, I’m also kind of looking forward to it. It’ll be nice to think about something other than Igor.
“You’re still not ready,” Amelia says, sticking her head around my office door.
She’s wearing a dress I bought for her. A black dress that clings to her curves and shows off her amazing legs. Suddenly, I don’t want to go out. She looks fucking amazing in that dress, but she’d look so much better out of it. I know she’s got her heart set on going out though. I shut down the computer, stand up and smile at her.