The pickpocket and the billionaire

Chapter 10

Trailer to the side! Made by the amazing person to whom this chapter is dedicated :D

UNedited, but enjoy the chapter anyway!

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10

Paige Hartley

What does it mean when a guy gives you jewellery in the shape of a heart, and saves a box with stuff from your parents on his attic? Now, the latter was a bit creepy, and left me with several questions. There was the question of who he thought my father was. I wanted to know why he kept that box, instead of giving it to me. I wondered if he knew my mother. Heck, I didn't even know her. I felt strangely vulnerable when I left the attic. Maybe the brooding billionaire knew more about me then I did.

And the necklace. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he liked me. Liked liked me. I was shaking when I descended the stairs and stood in the hall of the fifth floor. Mother. I felt like I was going to have a nervous breakdown any moment now. I never thought that she'd have this much of an effect on me.

I slowly wandered the halls, rubbing my arms up and down. Images from when I was younger flashed through my head. A garden, a swing, and the arguing of my parents in the background.

Alone at home, a storm raging outside, tears streaming down my face. Waiting for someone to come back and take care of me.

Empty rooms, yelling father. Ignored. Alone for days. Questions without answers. No mother, more tears. Hard.

I leaned against the wall, breathing heavily as I thought over different scenes I remembered. My palm was flat against the wall, supporting me, as my other arm wrapped around my waist. My insides seemed to hurt. I felt like I was going to crumple. I was on the verge of shedding tears, but I refused to let them escape. She didn't deserve it. They both didn't.

"Paige?" I very slowly turned my head to the left, and looked over my arm at who called me. Connor was there. He looked so worried. One look at my face, and he rushed towards me. "Are you okay?" he asked, softly grabbing my arm. "You look pale."

Get your shit together. "Yes." I forcefully replied. "I have a bit of a headache though, so I think I'm going to lie down for a while." His eyebrows remained furrowed with worry as he nodded.

"You need help?" He asked. I shook my head after a moment of hesitation.

"Can you tell Boggs that I didn't find anything, and that I'm going to bed?" I asked. I was angry with her, because she sent me up there. She probably even knew that there was nothing useful for the party on the attic.

"Eh, sure." On the third floor we parted ways. I decided to use the guestroom again, because it was more comfortable than mine. Connor didn't know I used the room, but he didn't question me when I started to walk away from him. When a question popped in my head, I stopped again and turned around. Connor was already halfway down the stairs when I called his name. He stopped, turned around and looked at me questioningly.

"Do you know Henry Hartley?" I asked. He frowned, and nodded.

"I worked with him a couple of times, and he got along well with Sebastian." He said. "But he died a couple of years ago."

"Do you know something about his love life?" I asked cautiously. He shook his head slowly.

"Isn't he family of yours?" He asked.

"He was. My father." I said distantly. "Thank you." I walked away again. I had wanted to ask more, but my emotional condition didn't allow me. I entered the used guestroom and dropped myself on the bed. I didn't even bother locking the door before forcing myself in a dreamless sleep.