At The Mercy of Mr Alexander

AMELIA FRAY

“Miss Amelia, you are under arrest for fraud,” the policeman who had walked into my office, held my hands behind me and cuffed it. “You have a right to remain silent—”

His words were lost on me as my eyes frantically scanned the lobby, trying to convince myself I was dreaming. My doubts vanished into thin air as the policeman nudged me forward.

Beads of sweat formed across my forehead.

“Sir, you have the wrong person,” I cried, trying to get the policeman to stop walking. “I've never stolen a dime before. I'm telling you, sir, there must have been a mix-up.”

My pleas fell on deaf ears as he pulled me out of my office building into a patrol car, waiting at the entrance. His colleague, a fat man in his thirties sat behind the wheel.

The siren went off as they rode through the morning traffic in New York City.

My heart pounded heavily beside my captor. Everything felt surreal. Almost impossible.

A tear slid down my face as they pulled up in front of their precinct and helped me out of the car, moving me from one room to another, taking my fingerprints and photos.

Finally, they deposited me in a tiny room, with a metal table and two chairs, both situated on the opposite side of the table.

“Take a seat.” the policeman uncuffed me and pointed at one of the empty chairs, before walking out. I shivered slightly as I sat down on the cold metal chair.

An ache was beginning to form at the back of my head. And the bright light from the overhead bulb irritated my already sensitive eyes. I relaxed onto the chair, letting my tears spill out from my closed eyes.

Please, God, let this be a misunderstanding, I prayed silently.

“Miss Amelia Fray,” a voice called, followed immediately by a loud bang on the table, pulling me out of my musings.

I jerked, hitting my back on the metal chair. The ache intensified.

“Miss Fray,” the stranger repeated. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Detective James.”

He pulled out the vacant chair and slumped into it. His brown eyes bore into me. He wasn't dressed in uniform, unlike the men who had brought me down here.

“Do you know what you've been accused of?” His voice was unusually loud.

I nodded, unable to speak. Afraid the tears would give way if I opened my mouth.

“I need you to speak. You're on record,” he stated curtly, his voice harsh. His eyes strayed to my trembling hands. “I'm sorry. Would you like water or coffee?”

“None,” I managed to squeeze out.

“So, Miss Fray,” he began, his voice grating on my nerves. “Tell me about your role at Smithson & Co.”

I hesitated, my eyes darting around the grey, windowless room. I knew how this works. They would try to use my words against me.

“I work as a secretary for Mr Williams,” I sniffled, picking my words carefully.

“And you're one of the few people that have access to his passwords and office, right?”

“Yes, yes,” I blurted out, panic setting in once more. “But I've no idea of what I'm being accused of. I've never committed fraud in my life.”

He smirked. “Miss Fray, you can save the act for someone who cares…like your lawyer.” His eyes twitched as he rested his meaty fingers on the table. “We've evidence…Emails, documents, your signatures on them…implicating you. And we also have a witness. Someone who pointed you out.”

My mind raced as I tried to understand what he was saying. A witness? Or he was just bluffing? Someone had named me.

“Mr James, I'm telling you. You have the wrong person. I would never do something like that. I swear on my father’s grave.”

I was trembling as the sobs wrecked my body. The thought of going to jail made me wail louder.

“Miss Fray, get yourself together,” his loud voice ordered, unsympathetic. A pause. “What is your relationship with Mr Williams Roth, outside the office?”

I peeked at the round-faced man in front of me with tear-stained eyes. What has my relationship with Mr Williams got to do with this? Sweat pooled under my armpit.

“I asked a question, Miss Fray.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a lump in my throat. “He is my lover.”

“Your lover, huh?” His sarcastic tone didn't help my anxiety. “I thought it was against company policy to date your colleagues or superiors. So tell me, Miss Fray, what you are doing with a married man, working—”

“Married!?” I screamed, my heart racing wildly. “You've your information wrong…William isn't married.”

“Please, comport yourself. Mr Williams is married to his wife, Laura. And he had stated, for the record, that you forged his signature and had access to his computer due to your personal relationship with him.”

He placed a small device on the table and pushed it towards me before clicking it on.

“…she was always throwing herself at me, despite my numerous rejections. I did not report the incident to HR because I was trying to help her keep her job. But Miss Fray is one sly fucking piece of shit. I'm certain she forged my signature and embezzled the money. Don't be fooled by her innocent face…”

He grabbed the device back as quickly as he had pushed it towards me, clicking it off. Shock rippled through my body, crippling me to the chair.

The gruff voice in the recording was definitely William. He was their witness? I had no idea what he was talking about. Then it crept up on me, slowly like a thief. That one time, at the hotel, he had jokingly asked me to imitate his signature on papers that looked like documents.

I stared at the detective's smug face. My heart felt like it was about to explode. I swayed, dizzy from the realization that Williams was behind my arrest.

The man that I love was married. Hell, he had agreed to follow me to see my mama and baby sister this Christmas. Has he been planning this all along? Everything was a lie?

“Miss Fray,” James' voice pulled me back to the present. “You're looking at fifteen years if found guilty. I think it's best you cooperate with me or would you like me to call a lawyer for you?”

“No,” I pleaded, tears ran down my cheek in torment. “Please, Mr James, I had nothing to do with this. I didn't know Williams was married. I thought…I thought he loved me.” my voice hitched, as I swallowed painfully. “I'm innocent of these allegations. I've nothing to do with the embezzled money. Please, I'm beg—”

The door to the room flew open unexpectedly. Instinctively, I hid my face behind my hands, ashamed of the mess I had created.

“Mr Alexander Smith,” James greeted nervously, scrapping the chair backwards as he approached the intruder. “This is a closed session, sir. You're not allowed to be back here.”

The intruder walked into the room, ignoring James' words. His strong scent filled the room— a mixture of citrus and aftershave. “I want to have a word with her…alone.”

“That's not possib—”

“It is, if I say so,” his tone was curt. “Now, whatever reservations you might have, take it up with your Superior.” He sat on the chair James had just vacated as the door slammed shut.

“Miss Fray,” His deep voice sent goosebumps crashing all over my skin as he addressed me. But my reaction wasn't out of fear. “Here, take this,”

I raised my head slowly, his outstretched hand held his handkerchief. I grabbed it awkwardly and wiped my face clean. It smelt just like him.

“Thank you,” I muttered, biting my lips nervously. My heart stopped in its tracks as his clear emerald eyes rested on me.

I forgot my predicament for a second as I lost myself in his eyes. He was handsome. But his eyes were crystal clear, drawing me into their never-ending void. I would gladly lose myself in them.

He was tall, taller than most men I've ever seen. His wavy black hair was perfectly messy, framing his chiselled jaw and plucked brows.

“Miss Fray, I'm Alexander Smith. The owner of the company you've been accused of stealing from.”

My mouth fell open at the mention of his full name—Alexander Smith. The girls at the office had talked about him but no one really knew what he looked like. He refused to grant interviews or have his pictures taken by the paparazzi.

He was way better in person than we had imagined.

I picked my jaw off the floor. “Mr Alexander…sir…I'm truly innocent of the accusation,” Tears were beginning to form at the corner. “I know nothing of it. There must have been a mistake.”

His sceptical eyes rested on mine. He leaned towards me, wrinkling his perfectly tailored shirt and whispered. “I believe you …but the board of directors wouldn't. They are looking for someone to crucify. And all evidence points to you.” He paused, his eyes roamed my body. “But I believe there's a way I can help.”

Relief washed through my body as I slumped against the chair. Tears spilt down my eyes. But his next words cut my excitement short.

“You'll have to work to pay off the money you stole...as my wife.”