The Mister Read online E.L. James

Categories Genre: Chick Lit, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
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“Did they come to his apartment?”

“Yes.”

Magda gulps and holds her hands up to her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

“Perhaps Magda would like some tea, and she can tell us what happened,” I say gently.

* * *

The three of us are sitting at the table while Magda puffs on a brand of cigarette that is unfamiliar to me. I’ve declined her offer to try one. The last time I smoked a cigarette, it set off a chain of events that led to my expulsion from school. I was thirteen and with a local girl in the grounds at Eton.

“I don’t think they were from the immigration department. They had a photograph of Michal and you,” Magda says to Alessia.

“What? How?” I ask.

“Yes. They found it on Facebook.”

“No!” Alessia exclaims, and clamps her hand over her mouth in horror. She looks at me. “Michal has taken the selfies with me.”

“The selfies?” I ask.

“Yes. For the Facebook,” Alessia says, frowning. I quickly mask my amused expression.

Magda continues, “They said they knew where Michal went to school. They knew all about him. All his personal information is on his Facebook page.” She takes a long drag of her cigarette, her hand trembling.

“They threatened Michal?” Alessia’s face is ashen.

Magda nods. “I had no choice. I was scared. I’m sorry.” Her voice is little more than a whisper. “There was no way I could contact you. I gave them the address where you were working.”

Well, that clears that mystery up.

“What do they want with you, Alessia?” she asks.

Alessia gives me a brief, imploring look, and I realize that Magda doesn’t know the full details of how Alessia came to London. I run my hand through my hair.

What to do? This is far more than I bargained for….

“Have you contacted the police?” I ask.

Magda and Alessia both speak at once: “No police.” They are emphatic.

“Are you sure?” I can understand Alessia’s reaction, but not Magda’s. Perhaps she’s here illegally, too.

“No police,” Magda says, banging her hand on the table, startling both Alessia and me.

“Okay,” I say, raising my palm to placate her. I’ve never met people who don’t trust the police.

It’s obvious that Alessia can’t stay in Brentford, and neither can Magda and her son. The thugs who turned up on my doorstep were bristling with barely contained violence. “Is it just the three of you living here?” I ask.

They both nod.

“Where is your son now?”

“At a friend’s house. He’s safe. I called him before I got home.”

“I don’t think it’s safe for Alessia to stay here, or you for that matter. These men are dangerous.”

Alessia nods. “Very dangerous,” she whispers.

Magda’s face whitens. “But my job. My son’s school. We are only here for another two weeks before I leave—”

“Magda, no!” Alessia tries to silence her.

“For Canada,” Magda continues, disregarding Alessia’s objection.

“Canada?” I look to Alessia and back at Magda.

“Yes. Michal and I are emigrating. I’m getting remarried. My fiancé lives and works in Toronto.” Her brief smile is a fond one. I offer her my congratulations, then turn my attention to Alessia.

“And what are you going to do?”

She shrugs as if she’s got everything under control. “I will find another place to stay. Zot! I am to see a place this evening.” She glances at the kitchen clock. “Now!” She stands up, panicked.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I interject. “And frankly, that’s the least of your worries right now.” She’s illegally in the country—how is she going to find somewhere to stay?

She sits back down.

“Those men could come back at any time. They could easily snatch you off the street.” I shudder. They want her.

Evil fuckers.

What can I do?

Think. Think.

We could all hole up in Trevelyan House in Cheyne Walk, but Caroline would ask questions, and I don’t want that—it’s too complicated. I could take Alessia back to my flat—but they’ve already been there. One of the other properties? Maryanne’s place? No. Perhaps I could take her to Cornwall. No one would find us there.

And as I contemplate my options, I realize I don’t want to let her out of my sight.

Ever.

The thought surprises me.

“I want you to come with me,” I say to her.

“What?” Alessia exclaims. “But—”

“I can find you somewhere to live. Don’t worry about that.” Jesus, I have enough property at my disposal. “But you’re not safe here. You can come with me.”

“Oh.”

I turn my attention to Magda. “Magda, as far as I can see, you have three options since you don’t want to involve the police. We can move you to a local hotel for now, or we can put you up in a house in town. Or I can organize some close-protection security for you and your son, and you can stay here.”

“I cannot afford a hotel.” Magda’s voice fades while she gapes at me.

“Don’t worry about the money,” I reply.


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