Gobsmacked! Chapter 6

"His Nibs got up late; he's still eating his breakfast."

Boris smiled as he followed Mrs. O'Malley to the breakfast room; he found her Irish brogue charming.

"Would you like some breakfast, Mr. Boris?"

"No, thank you Mrs. O'Malley. I've already eaten."

"Perhaps a cup of tea, or coffee?"

"I will take a cup of coffee; thank you."

"Cream and sugar?"

"No, thank you. I'll just take it black."

She ushered Boris into the breakfast room and went to get Boris his coffee.

Declan looked up from his huge English breakfast and his newspaper. "Good morning, Boris! You're out and about early today."

"Well. . .I am a busy man, Declan!"

"So you are, Boris. . .so you are."

It was at that moment that Mrs. O'Malley returned. "Here's your coffee, Mr. Boris." Then she turned her attention to Declan. "And you, sir, can't be lollygagging around here all day; I have cleaning to do, and I don't want you underfoot. And, you have an appointment at 2:00."

"Thank you, Mrs. O'Malley; that will be all." Declan waited until Mrs. O'Malley left the breakfast room and closed the door on her way out. "You know. . .I'm a little bit afraid of her!"

Boris smiled and took a sip of his coffee. It was good; almost as good as the coffee at Shadow Pond. "Ja. . .that's what Annabelle and I decided last night at the party!"

"Oh. . .speaking of Annabelle. . .I spoke with her this morning. She got some much needed sleep, and is feeling much better this morning. She's waiting for your Dr. Hank to arrive. . .and she's fretting about covering the bruise on her cheek."

"Sehr gut. . .I am glad she is feeling better."

"Hmmm. . . ." Declan looked up from his breakfast, took a sip of his English breakfast tea, and gave Boris a suspicious look. "Well. . .Boris. . .try to contain your enthusiasm." When he got no answer from Boris, he pushed his plate away, took another sip of tea, and asked the question. "Boris. . .why are you here?"

"I want answers. No. . .I need answers."

"Answers. . .to what, Boris?"

"Hrmph!" Boris took another sip of coffee, and set the cup down so hard that the coffee sloshed over the top and the saucer rattled. "Answers to the mystery that is Annabelle!"

Declan smiled and gave a slight shake to his head. "Boris. . .you have the soul of a poet. Who knew?!"

"I am serious, Declan!" Boris was frustrated. . .and becoming more so by the minute.

"As am I, Boris." Declan leaned forward and put his hand on Boris's arm. "Calm yourself, old friend. If your head explodes. . .Mrs. O'Malley will never forgive me for making a stain on the carpet."

Boris felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. Both men sat back in their chairs; the tension in the room seemed to fade away.

"Now, Boris. . .tell me what happened to get your knickers in a knot?"

"All right." Boris took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Last night, in the car, Annabelle said something that. . .concerned me."

Declan waited for Boris to continue, but he seemed to be somewhere else. Declan suspected that he was back in that sleek black Porsche, with Annabelle sitting oh, so close beside him. Declan reached out again, this time touching Boris's arm much more gently. "Boris. . .what did Annabelle say?"

Boris closed his eyes, and slowly rubbed his thumb back and forth above his eyebrow. It was a gesture Declan had seen Boris use many times; it seemed to help him focus. Finally, Boris drew in another deep breath, then slowly exhaled. With a slight shake of his head, he finally answered. "She said it very. . .softly. I am not even sure she realized that she said it out loud. I do not think I was supposed to hear it. . .but I did."

"Boris. . .what did she SAY?"

"I should have let Declan tell you the truth." Boris was watching Declan. . .looking for a reaction. But Declan stayed quiet, sipping his tea. "So, Declan. . .old FRIEND. . .what IS this truth? What did you. . .and Annabelle. . .not tell me? Hmm?!" Declan still didn't respond, and Boris was getting angrier by the minute. "Declan, you know that I cannot abide being lied to!"

Now it was Declan's turn to slam his cup down. Angry, Declan pointed his finger at Boris. "Now you listen here, boyo. NOBODY lied to you." Declan leaned back in his chair, trying to rein in his temper. "There are things in Annabelle's past that she has. . .difficulty. . .dealing with. You saw that manifest itself last night with her panic attack. But. . .should we have told you about her panic attacks. . .and what brings them on? I honestly don't know. What I DO know is that NOBODY is obligated to bare their souls and tell all their secrets on a first date!" Declan picked up his cup and took another sip of tea. "And, speaking of secrets, Boris; did you tell Annabelle all of YOUR secrets last night? Because you do have secrets, Boris; you know it and I know it. So. . .tell me, Boris. . .did you tell her your secrets?" Boris sat. . .silent. "Hmm? Did you, Boris?"

"No. You know I did not. . .and you know why I did not."

"Sauce for the goose, Boris. . .sauce for the goose!"

Boris uttered an exasperated curse in German. . .and then got quiet, lost in thought.

"What I don't understand, Boris, is why you seem so utterly uninformed. You always investigate your girlfriends; did you not investigate Annabelle?"

"Ja, I did. But my security team did a basic background check; they didn't do a deep dive into her personal life."

"Well. . .what did they find?"

"There were two red flags in their final report."

"And what were those red flags?"

"Two volatile relationships. . .with Lionel Kent and Archibald Gordon-White."

"Hrmph! Volatile relationships; interesting turn of a phrase."

"Meaning what, Declan?"

"Meaning. . .I would call them abusive relationships, not volatile relationships."

"Declan. . .are you saying that those two men abused Annabelle?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Boris!"

"Well, Declan. . .I still have questions, and now I definitely need answers!"

Declan shook his head, and exhaled. . .loudly. "I can answer some of your questions, Boris; I can't answer all of them."

"Why in the hell not, Declan?"

"Because this is Annabelle's story, Boris; it's her life. And there are just some things that she needs to tell you. . .and she's going to need to trust you before she does."

Boris knew Declan well enough to know that he wasn't going to change his mind about this. "All right. . .we will put those things aside. . .for the moment. Right now. . .tell me about Annabelle's grandfather."

"Well. . .Lionel had one son, Jeremy."

"Annabelle's father, ja?"

"Yes. Like you, Boris, Jeremy was the crown prince, the heir to the throne. And from what I understand, he really had a feel for the hotel business. Lionel was giving him more and more responsibility. When Annabelle was four, Lionel sent Jeremy on a business trip. Jeremy decided to take his wife, Rose – Annabelle's mother – with him. The original plan was for Jeremy to complete his business, and then he and Rose were going to get away for a few days, just the two of them. But they missed their baby girl, so they decided to come home early.

"They were driving back to London. . .and a truck hit them head on. Annabelle's mother died at the scene; Annabelle's father died a few hours later in the hospital. And every time Lionel looked at Annabelle. . ."

"Lionel was reminded of what he had lost." Boris finished Declan's sentence, and Declan nodded. "Lionel blamed Annabelle."

"Yes, he did. And he never missed an opportunity to remind Annabelle."

"Annabelle was just a child. I just don't understand. . ."

"Boris, Lionel isn't worth trying to understand. He is just a mean, bitter old man. He was never able to move past Jeremy's death. So he made Annabelle's life a living hell."

"How so, Declan?"

"Well, Annabelle told me about one incident that happened when she was, I believe, eight? Her hair was long. . .down to her waist. She had been playing outside, and I guess it was very tangled. Her nanny was trying to brush the knots out, and was not being particularly gentle. Annabelle started to cry, and Lionel heard her. He wanted to know why she was crying, and when the nanny told him, he found a pair of scissors and chopped her hair off."

"Gottverdammt!"

"I have no idea what you just said, Boris. . .but you're probably right!"

Boris sat quietly, trying to process what Declan had just told him. After a moment, he turned his attention to Archie. "Tell me about Archibald Gordon-White."

Declan's expression hardened. "Archie is a sick bastard. He almost destroyed Annabelle. But this is the part of the story that Annabelle needs to tell you herself."

"Well. . .what CAN you tell me about Archie?"

"I can tell you that he seeks out young, vulnerable women. . .and then he destroys them."

"Why?!"

"The short answer is. . .because he can. He twists them. . .he likes to twist pleasure and pain. And he manipulates them with five little words – if you REALLY loved me. . .you would. . .fill in the blank! When he gets bored with them, he ends the relationship, and then he usually passes them on to one of his friends."

"What. . what happened with Annabelle?"

"Annabelle ended the relationship before he could completely destroy her. She did a very brave thing. . .but she paid very dearly."

"He hurt her, didn't he?"

"Yes. . .he did. He broke her cheekbone, he broke several ribs. And he. . .he. . ."

"He WHAT, Declan?!"

"He beat her with a belt. He broke the skin in several places; she has some scars on her back. Boris. . .she was a mess when it was all over. She wasn't eating, she wasn't sleeping; her weight dropped to 90 pounds. She didn't leave her house for months."

"How. . .how. . . .?"

"How did she recover?" Declan answered Boris's unanswered question, and Boris nodded. "She found an amazing therapist, and she worked very, very hard."

"So, last night, when Parks put his hands on her. . ."

"It took her right back to that night when Archie put her in the hospital. Parks triggered the panic attack."

Boris sank back in his chair; he was starting to really feel his lack of sleep. "I have never understood the mindset of a man who hurts a woman in anger."

"Nor have I. Women are such delightful creatures; they're so much fun to play with!"

Shaking his head, Boris couldn't help but smile. "They are indeed, Declan. . .they are indeed. And YOU, Declan, are incorrigible!"

"Hrmph! That's what Sister Mary Margaret used to tell me when I was still in short pants!"

Chuckling, Boris glanced at his watch. "Declan, I don't think we have time to explore your various and sundry adventures in short pants!. And I do have some business to attend to, so I must take my leave." Boris stood, as did Declan, and the two men shook hands. "You have given me much to think about, Declan."

"Well. . .think long and hard Boris; Annabelle is worth it!"

And with that. . .Boris departed.