Mr Garcia (Mr Series)
Mr Garcia: Chapter 31

I frown in disgust. “What?”

“You heard me. Ten million, and I’ll disappear so you can carry on with your pathetic life.”

“Even if I had access to that kind of money, which I don’t, I’m not paying you one fucking penny,” I growl.

“Okay.” She stands. “Then prepare for the press release on Wednesday.” She turns toward the door.

“Helena!” Panic sets in. “Wait.”

She turns toward me.

“Why would you do this?”

“You know why.”

“I don’t give a fuck about me but what reason could you possibly have to destroy April? She’s a good person who has worked fucking hard for her law degree. You can’t do this to her. Hurt me all you want but leave April the fuck out of it.”

She tilts her chin upward. “Do you really expect me to feel sorry for her? She catches your eye in a brothel, makes you fall in love with her, all the while sleeping with your son?”

I stare at her, shocked. How does she know all of this?

“You’ve got it wrong. She isn’t like that. She was never even working in that club.”

“Proof is in the footage, Sebastian, and I am going to go public with it. Unless you part with some of your precious money. Because, let’s face it, it’s only a matter of months before she takes it all in your impending divorce, anyway.” Her calculating eyes hold mine. “She doesn’t love you. She never did. Wake up, Sebastian, you fool.”

I clench my hands at my sides, my anger hitting a crescendo. I’ve never had so much contempt for anyone in my life. “Get out.” I sneer.

“Forty-eight hours.”

I step toward her, unable to help it.

She smiles sarcastically. “Hit me. I dare you.”

I turn my back to her because if I don’t, that’s exactly what I will do. “Get out.”

She stays still.

“Get the fuck out!” I yell.

The door clicks when she leaves, and I inhale with a shaky breath.

“Fuck, fuck… fuck!”

I pick up my phone and call Bart.

“Hi,” he answers.

“Get over here now. We are officially in a crisis.”

“Hello, Porscha?” Bart says. He’s on speakerphone with the manager of the sex club. “It’s Bart McIntyre calling. I’m a lawyer acting on behalf of a very high-profile client.”

“Yes, hello, Bart,” Porsha replies.

Bart glares at me. He’s furious, and so am I.

This is my worst fucking nightmare. I sit back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Please, let me wake up.

“My client has just been delivered photographs of himself in your club with an Escape Girl.”

“What?”

“You heard me. There’s video evidence.”

She gasps. “Oh no…”

“He’s being blackmailed for ten million pounds. Do you mind explaining to me how the hell someone got this footage?”

“Um…” She pauses. “I’m so sorry. Our system was hacked three or four months ago and then again this week. We assumed they were after credit card details, but thankfully none of those were compromised.”

“I’ll tell you what was fucking compromised. My client’s identity!” he snaps. “If this goes live, I will be pressing charges against you to the full extent of the law. You can kiss your fucking club goodbye.”

“Oh my God!”

“How does this happen? What the hell do your clients get for their exuberant fees if not their privacy?”

“Ah…” She’s rendered speechless. “My sincerest apologies. I just don’t know what to say. We were assured by our IT team that nothing was taken.”

“They lied. I’ll be in touch.” He hangs up on her.

Speechless, I put my head into my hands.

“You know…” Bart begins to pace, he’s furious. “When I asked you if you had any skeletons in your closet, the fact that you met April in a brothel may have been one of them, Garcia!” he yells. “How did I not know about this?”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” I growl. “You are speaking about my wife. She is not a prostitute. She worked there one time, and it was the fucking time I met her.”

“Do you have any idea what this is going to do to the political party?”

“I don’t give a fuck about the political party,’ I cry. ‘I’m not worried about myself. I couldn’t care less about my stupid fucking job. I’m worried about April! If this gets out…” I shake my head, the fear in me so present that I can barely push the words past my lips. “She will always be the prostitute who slept with the Prime Minister. She will never shake this. It will be the end of her career.”

He stares at me.

“Do you know how fucking hard she worked to fight her way back?” My voice cracks, betraying my hurt. “This can’t get out, Bart. It can’t. I won’t let it. I will not let her be portrayed in this manner. Not now, not ever.”

“Then you have to talk to April.” He sighs sadly.

“If I tell her, she won’t let me pay it. I know her. Her morals are too high, especially when it comes to my ex-wife. She would rather die than give that woman one penny.”

Bart closes his eyes. “Fuck’s sake.”

We both sit in silence as we think.

“What do I do?” I eventually ask.

“There’s no proof that, even if you do give Helena the money, she won’t go to press, anyway.”

“I know but at least it might buy me some time.”

“For what?”

“In case you missed it, I got married last fucking week, Bart!” I stand in a rush. “Do you really think this is how my new wife wants to spend her first week of marriage?”

“Stop putting everyone else’s needs before yourself. This is ten million pounds, Garcia.”

“I don’t care about the money.” I throw my hands in the air.

He holds his hand out in defeat. “Then, there’s your answer.”

I stare at him.

“You’re going to pay her the money, regardless of how stupid you know it is.”

“What do you want me to do? Throw my wife to the slaughter?” I lose my temper. “Get out!” I bark. “If you have nothing more to say, get the fuck out.”

Bart exhales heavily. “This is a bad idea.”

“Tell me the alternative? Give me a better fucking plan, Bart. Because as of this moment, you’ve got nothing.”

He stares at me, thinking. “What if I barter her down?”

“How?”

“I’ll email her. Tell her you can’t get that amount of money. Ask if we could negotiate a deal of sorts.”

I scratch the back of my neck in frustration. I don’t want to give this bitch a single penny.

“At this point, she’s clutching at straws. She would have no idea that you’re willing to pay. I’ll tell her we have someone who can prove the photos have been manipulated and are fake—that she isn’t going to get any traction with this story. I’ll try and get her to agree to a few million and sign some kind of assurance that she won’t go public. Ten is ludicrous. It’s out of the question.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Leave it with me.” He walks toward the door.

“Bart!” I call, and he turns back. “Thank you.”

He nods, still unimpressed. “I’ll be in touch.”

I climb out of the car just as April bounces out of the front door. I look up, and my breath catches at the sight of her beautiful smile.

“Hello, Mr. Garcia.” She smiles as she kisses me.

“Mrs. Garcia.” I smirk.

I hold the car door open, and she gets in.

We are on our way to dinner with our friends to celebrate our marriage.

What a fucking joke.

What I should be doing is packing April up and moving her to the moon.

I have this sick lead ball in my gut telling me that shit’s about to get bad, and there’s no way to stop it. My world is spinning out of control on its axis.

If I tell April, her name is dragged through the mud and her career is over.

If I don’t tell April, she is protected.

But I lie to her.

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Fucked up, either way.

We sit in the back of the car as the driver whizzes through the traffic.

April’s chatting and laughing, being her gorgeous self, while I sit emotionless, watching her. Her hand is resting on my thigh, and I look down at the gold band on her finger. The one that matches mine.

I close my eyes in sadness. All my life, I waited for a love like this.

“What’s wrong, babe?” She lifts my hand to her mouth and kisses my fingertips.

“Just tired, darling,” I lie.

“We won’t stay late.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m fine. We can stay as long as you want.”

She bounces around in her seat. “I’m so excited to see everyone.”

I fake a smile. “Me, too.”

The procession of security cars pulls up outside the front of the restaurant, where a photographer is waiting. The driver gets out and opens the back door. I climb out to the flashes of the camera, and I help April out by taking her hand.

“Mrs. Garcia!” The photographer calls. “How is married life?”

“Wonderful.” She smiles.

My heart drops, and we walk inside to see our friends sitting at the back. They all stand. April holds her hand up and wiggles her fingers to show them her ring, and the girls dance with excitement as we approach the table.

“Congratulations.” The girls laugh as they kiss us.

The boys shake my hand and slap me on the back.

“You old dog,” Spencer jokes. “Why weren’t we invited?”

We sit down. April is laughing and chatting. She’s so happy, and I just want to die a slow, painful death.

Because I should. My terrible taste in ex-wives should be a death sentence.

Spencer watches me and gives me a subtle frown. Masters, too.

They know me too well for me to hide anything from them.

“You guys want to get cocktails at the bar with me?” I ask.

“Yep.” Their chairs are both out before I’ve finished my sentence. We take the girls’ orders and walk over to the bar. We stand in the corner at a small round table as we wait for them to be made.

“What is it?” Spencer whispers.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I whisper back. “Swear on your life.”

“What?”

“Helena has video footage of me in the Escape room with April.”

Their eyes widen.

“She wants ten million or she’s going to the press.”

“What?” Spencer shrieks.

“Keep your voice down.” I look around.

“What the fuck?” Masters whispers. “How did she get it?”

“Their systems got hacked. Can you imagine the fucking headline? The Prime Minister and the prostitute who is now his wife.”

Julian’s and Spencer’s eyes widen in horror. If my files have been hacked, hell, we’re all fucked.

“Christ almighty, what are you going to do?” Julian asks.

“I say we kill this bitch.” Spencer punches his fist. “For real this time.”

“Will you be fucking serious for one minute?” I hiss.

“Who says I’m not?” he huffs.

“I think I’m going to pay the money.”

“What?”

“Have you got a better idea?” I whisper. “I won’t have April dragged through the mud.”

“Fucking hell,” Julian mutters.

“How does she sleep at night?” Spencer whispers. “God damn it, she’s a real fucking mole. I mean, I always knew it, but this is some next level crazy shit.”

“Drinks are up,” the waiter calls.

“Not a word to the girls,” I whisper.

“Yep,” they both reply, and we walk back to the table.

I sit down and place April’s drink in front of her.

She looks over at me lovingly. “Thank you.”

I smile and take her hand in mine. I kiss her fingertips and glance over at the boys. Their traumatized faces say so much.

I’m fucked.

I watch her chest rise and fall as she sleeps like the angel she is.

April’s blonde hair is splayed across her pillow. Her big, pouty lips are slightly parted.

There’s a peace that she brings.

I’ve never loved anyone as much as I do her. I didn’t even know that it was possible.

I keep going over and over the ramifications of not paying this money.

I imagine the media circus that will surround us, the judgement on my beautiful wife, watching her deal with the criticism, and her heartache.

The end of her career. The end of mine.

Our families and future children knowing how we met… that’s if we even make it through this to have children.

She will blame me, and how could she not? I blame me for having an ex like Helena.

I can’t do it.

I won’t risk April at any cost. I would give my soul to the Devil if it meant that she remains untainted.

I know this is wrong, but I don’t care. I’m giving Helena the money.

I’ll deal with her later. She will pay for this.

But right now, I need time.

April

I wake when I hear the shower turn on. It’s early morning, and I smile as I stretch.

Life is good.

Sebastian’s phone beeps with a text on the side table. I reach over and pick it up.

Your withdrawal is ready, Mr. Garcia.

We look forward to welcoming you at 1.00pm.

Bank of Britain.

I frown. Huh?

What does that mean?

I hear a fuss out in the hallway, and a vase smashes. I get up in a rush. Bentley has brought his lead up to try and make us go for a walk. It got caught on the side table and has knocked the vase over.

“Hey, what are you doing?” I ask.

He looks up at me innocently, and I smile. I can’t be angry with such a cute face. “Come on. Let’s get the dustpan.” I make my way downstairs and grab the dustpan.

This is the last thing I feel like doing. Good morning to me.

11:50 a.m.

Jeremy walks into my office and closes the door behind him.

I glance up. “Hey.”

He looks like he’s just swallowed a fly. “If I knew something… something bad… would you want to know?”

I frown. “Like what?”

“Okay.” He winces. “So, does that mean yes?”

“Yes.”

“You know how I think Bart is seeing someone else?”

“Yes.”

“Well, don’t judge me, but I didn’t see him again last night, and I was going crazy all night. This morning I illegally logged into his email for evidence.”

“Jeremy,” I whisper. “You can’t do that.”

“Sebastian is being blackmailed by his ex-wife,” he blurts out in a rush. “Bart’s been negotiating a deal with her.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

“She has footage of you two in a strip club. Sebastian has to pay her ten million pounds today at 1:30 p.m. in a hotel room or she is going to the press.”

“What?” I explode.

“Shh.” He looks around guiltily. “I’ll lose my job if Bart replaces out that I told you.”

I think for a moment. That text this morning from the bank…

I forgot all about it.

What the hell?

“That stupid fuck,” I whisper.

“Who, his wife?”

“Sebastian.” I get out of my seat. “Sit down,” I demand.

“What?”

“You log into that email right now. I want to see exactly what the fuck is going on.”

1:40 p.m., and I’m standing in the shadows of the broom closet on Level 3 in the London Hilton. I had to book a damn room on this floor to get up here, but I don’t care.

Drop off of the ransom money is apparently anytime now, and I’m waiting for Sebastian to arrive. I don’t think I’ve ever been so fucking furious in my entire life.

Why didn’t he tell me?

The elevator dings, and I lean back against the wall. Sebastian walks out with a duffle bag, and my eyes glow red.

You are so dead.

He walks to the door and knocks. I begin to creep up behind him. The door opens, and Helena stands before him.

“Have you got the money?” she asks.

“Oh, he’s got the fucking money, all right,” I snap.

They both turn toward me, shocked.

I push past them both into the room. Helena tilts her chin, but Sebastian looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Give me the money and get out,” Helena says.

“He’s not giving you a single fucking penny!” I snap. I glare at Sebastian, and he rolls his lips.

“She’s got footage,” Sebastian replies.

“Ha.” I huff. “She hasn’t got shit.”

“Yes, I have. I’m going to the press. Now get out.” She tries to snatch the bag from him.

“Do not give her that fucking bag!” I yell. “She’s lying.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I have the footage,” I snap. “I’m the one who hacked the system. I wiped all the footage of the two of us months ago, so you can go to hell, you scheming fucking bitch.”

Sebastian and Helena’s eyes widen.

“You hacked the system?” Sebastian whispers, shocked.

“Of course, I did. I wiped everything with you on it.” I snap, adrenaline is coursing through my body. “There was one image that was encrypted that I couldn’t get, but it had nothing about the club on it. That’s the only picture she’s got.”

Sebastian gasps. “It was you?”

“Call the police,” I demand.

Helena’s face falls.

Sebastian’s eyes are wide as he looks between the two of us.

“Call the fucking police!” I scream at him.

He takes out his phone.

“Did you tell her?” Helena asks him in an eerily calm voice.

He frowns.

“Did you tell her about our night together, Sebastian?” She turns to me. “Do you know?”

Uneasiness falls over me. “What are you talking about?”

“Sebastian called me from Bath a few months ago. Said that he was moving forward with you, and he wanted to say goodbye to me properly. Begged me to come see him. He wanted to make love to me one last time…the way I needed it. We never got that last goodbye, and it was something he always regretted.”

“I did not,” he scoffs.

“What story did you go with, Seb?” She asks softly. “Did you tell her you were drugged? Or did you go with the fell asleep excuse? We couldn’t decide on that night.”

We never got that last goodbye, and it was something he always regretted.

What….

My heart begins to hammer in my ears.

“You, stupid girl,” she sneers. “You think you have this all sewn up, don’t you? You think you have everything sorted.”

I stare at her, contempt dripping from my every pore.

“Well, guess what, April?” She smiles sweetly. “I have the one thing that you don’t.”

I glare at her.

“I have his baby.” She turns to Sebastian. “I’m fourteen weeks pregnant with your child.”