The Bird in a Cage
Summary: Howl, a wealthy CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, is threatened by anonymous letters. Bodyguards are all the rage and Howl hires only the best… ending up saddled with the infamous Mad Hatter. Sophie and Howl, AU.
WARNING: The beginning of the end.
Chapter Thirty-five
Under a tree
Sophie had been more than vocal in her rebukes over Howl's second date with the lovely Miss Angorian, but Howl, no matter his flaws, was a man of his word. He was determined and the woman had called him the day before to ask him if he was free Thursday evening. Given that Howl had promised a second date and that he had no plausible cause to refuse the engagement, he'd promptly invited her to one of the most prominent restaurants downtown… to Sophie's great annoyance.
Michael was still impressed that Sophie, in her agitation, could go up to a decibel human ears could not detect. Calcifer looked to be enjoying every single minute Sophie spent cantankerously showing Howl exactly how crude and vulgar she could get when pressed. Having lived almost five years surrounded by the underworld's most dangerous criminals, Sophie took almost an hour yelling and had yet to run out of imaginative adjectives to fling at his partner. Gleefully, Calcifer had even written down a few of them to peruse during those days he seriously needed a laugh.
The dark haired man of the hour did not look the least bit amused as he waited for Sophie's tirade to end. When she took a short pause for breath, Howl cut in smoothly, used to slashing her to the quick when she could not keep her surprisingly volatile temper. "It'll be just like the last time, Sophie. You'll keep me company and nothing will go wrong."
Her eyes narrowed and all three men in the room felt their souls shrivel under the spitting rage in her gaze that seemed to lash fire at them. "Oh? Like how a motorcyclist nearly sliced you in half at two hundred kilometers an hour?" she hissed in a low voice that carried like a living threat in the quiet office. Howl flinched, aware of the truth of the accusation. "The new letter arrived just this Monday, you fool! And it featured me as well this time! They're watching you, Howell! You cannot risk being out and about!"
She sounded more and more distressed and became even more animated, the line between her job and her emotional attachment blurring actively. Her worry for his safety stemmed from the terrifying realization that had been brought by the new letter at the start of the week. She even used his true first name instead of his last name or his alias, clearly scared.
The new Polaroid had been delivered via Lizzy once more, but the secretary had been more attentive this time. She had not seen who had dropped it off, having been out on her morning coffee break. She had, however, managed to spot the letter the moment she had gotten back. After Calcifer heavily berated her for not being able to detect the presence of the past letter back in their main offices, Lizzy had been extremely vigilant about the placing of everything on her desk. Instantly, she had noticed the bone white envelope on the hard surface of her work space and had promptly screamed shrilly.
Sophie had come to her at a run and though Lizzy did not like the beautiful bodyguard out of mere principle, she'd never been gladder to see the slim young woman. Like a damsel in distress, she'd fallen into Sophie's arms and cried to her heart's content. Surprisingly, Sophie had comforted her with ease, soothingly crooning and wrapping warm arms around the sobbing woman. With two younger sisters who were often prone to theatrics, the eldest Hatter was a master at handling hysterical females. Michael had come next with ground eating steps, swooping to pick up the letter and quickly opening it. He'd almost crumpled the picture when he'd seen the contents, his skin taking a pallor Sophie had never seen before.
It wasn't until she took up the picture herself, borrowing one of Calcifer's latex gloves to pick it up without tainting the evidence, that she knew why.
The deeply disturbing picture was of an imitation of her and Howl, tough her own likeness had been torn to pieces completely, eviscerated and dismembered messily. The poor woman had been spread all over the place around the male body, both naked, cloaked only in blood and entrails. The man's scalp had been torn off and chopped to pieces, decorating the floor with shiny black strands that had caused Howl to clutch his own hair for reassurance. The CEO had been so spooked he'd been visibly shaking until Sophie went to him, ensconcing him in her warmth and her guileless scent. She silently lent him strength even as she felt her own self tremble in terror at what the people threatening her employer were capable of.
Before she could succumb to her fear, she looked at the pale, drawn face of Howl and something within her crystallized slowly, like a hardening diamond under extreme pressure. Pure, fiery resolve overwhelmed her fear like a tidal wave, filling every capillary in her body with determination.
They will not touch him.
Howl was making matters difficult by allowing himself to be lured outside and out of Sophie's comfort zone. Even if some part of her admired him for his courage and his own quiet strength that echoed in his determination to keep his promises, she could not simply allow him to walk into the potential belly of the beast. That he was allowing her to follow him and stick to his side like a burr was thoroughly inconsequential. The possibility of someone getting the upper hand on her was still doable, though however improbable. She was not invincible and she was not willing to risk him by testing to see if someone out there could match her.
Howl was not to be dissuaded and by nightfall, he was dressed to impress and Sophie was right by his side, clad in loose jeans and a simple tee that did nothing to hide her toned frame. Howl had kicked up quite a fuss at her choice in attire, but because their argument had run on too long, they did not have the chance to buy her suitable clothes for the evening. In the end, she had won and sashayed into the car, looking three years younger when she'd smirked in impish triumph. That expression had been the ultimate final blow and the poor, besotted man had given in without further ado.
He'd made reservations at the new restaurant named The Social, a place Sophie had never seen before in her life. As per her humble personality, Sophie would never have dreamed of going to dine in the dark interior of the Parc Hotel. Despite her usually gruff behavior toward such classy places, the young bodyguard had to admit that The Social had a good reputation and AA rosettes because it had rightfully earned them. Their richly decorated interior was muted and spoke of taste, with tiles the deepest shade of gold, their walls a pleasing clash of thick brown, red, orange and yellow. The tables were both round and squared; a dark mahogany that still smelled softly of fresh wood. The chairs were a wonderful contrast of tasteful gray, just the right amount of cushy to be pleasant but to steadily grow uncomfortable enough to ensure that the patrons rotated at a regular rate.
Their menu, Lord, was it the most wonderful thing Sophie had ever seen. A true culinary activist, the young woman recognized fusion cooking and clever mixing when she saw it. Having spent most of her adolescence starving, Sophie had grown to become someone who took everything done in the kitchen very seriously. So when she and Howl had been seated, their cups filled and a pre-ordered entrée set before them, she had almost melted at the smell. (Howl made some or other excuse about waiting for the lovely schoolteacher all the while knowing Sophie, in her anxiety, had skipped lunch). Eagerly, she'd dug in and almost moaned in delight, quickly turning to instruct Howl to do the same.
Pleased by her renewed vigor, Howl simply obeyed and soon found himself being catered to by both the waiter and Sophie, who seemed to take great delight in forcing him to eat. The two entrées were small and tastefully decorated with sauce and vibrant vegetables on stark white plates, allowing them to appreciate the aesthetic genius of the head Chef. The waiter had scurried to tell the Chef how much they had adored his dishes; taking with him both plates wiped clean of their contents. Promptly, he returned and placed two more delectable entrées before them, compliments of the Chef. Soon, the rotund, jolly Chef himself came bustling out to make conversation. Despite the fact that the restaurant was teeming with patrons, the Chef enjoyed making a lengthy conversation with the friendly CEO of Pendragon and Co. and his lovely female companion. He'd been made to leave, though, a harried sous-chef stealing into the darkness of the restaurant to drag his laughing boss back to work.
Both Howl and Sophie burst into laughter at this and waved him away, falling into a conversational lull that was peaceful and enjoyable. Both of them picked at their plates then, shared the contents with the other and smiled when they realized the parallel reactions. Their bubble was shattered with the arrival of the hostess leading the beautiful Miss Angorian to their table.
The young schoolteacher greeted Howl with enthusiasm and Sophie with thinly veiled disdain. However, Howl did as he had done the last date by filling the uncomfortable standoff between the two women with chatter. Mindless as it was, it distracted the lovely Lily Angorian and she directed her attention back to him.
At intervals, the waiter would come and leave dishes of the table; since Howl had been thoughtful enough to pre-order everything he wanted delivered the moment he'd made his reservations. A few extras were snuck in by the exuberant Chef and Howl couldn't quite find it in himself to scold the fat cook when Sophie's eyes glittered like jewels in pure, innocent delight.
In the end, Sophie had ended up favored that night by both the Chef and Howl.
To be Continued…
The Social is a real restaurant in a very real Parc Hotel. Indeed, it has two AA rosette awards and from what I have seen, they really do deserve them. The clever decorations on their plates, the cooking techniques and the sheer explosion of taste of each dish (as told by patrons), they look beyond wonderful. If you guys ever get the chance, you should drop by and take a look. It's probably as expensive as a bag of pearls, but it's probably worth the cost.
The Parc Hotel is about a minute's walk from the St. David's Centre! What a wonderful coincidence! It's almost like I planned it!
I'm rolling around in self-contentment right about now.
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