Chapter 8 Companion

• Rickard bent, adjusting her body, and opened the passenger seat. He gently set her in and buckled her in. She seemed to be in a daze.
• "Mirabel," Rickard called as he pushed a strand of auburn hair that had escaped from her top knot behind her ear.
• "I have to inform the hospital," Mirabel whispered, her sense of duty strong despite her current condition.
• Rickard nodded.
• "Stay here I will explain," Rickard said as he closed the door and jogged back to the hospital. He walked up to the main reception and this time there was another receptionist.
• "Dr. Mirabel has to step out because of some personal reason. She told me to convey the message." Rickard said to the man at the reception.
• "I was already informed by Dr. Mann about her family emergency. We have it covered." The man smiled at Rickard.
• "Family emergency?" Rickard thought. "Okay, thanks." He said as he went back outside back to his car.
• He got in the car and noticed Mirabel had her eyes closed with her head leaned back against the headrest. He decided not to say anything. He pulled out his phone and called Cecelia, his secretary.
• "Good morning sir," Cecelia answered on the first ring.
• "Good morning. I will not be coming in today. Postpone the meetings for tomorrow and ask Robert to attend to any urgent matter. Call me only if someone is dying."
• "Of course sir. Anything else?"
• "No. Thank you." Rickard said and hung up.
• Rickard decided where to go. He wasn't going to show up at Michael’s place again with Mirabel and he knew she needed privacy. Whatever it was, had hit her pretty bad. He glanced at the letter clutched between her fingers.
• A lover's issue? Rickard didn't like that thought but he hadn't considered it as well. For some reason, the thought of Mirabel being in a relationship irritated him.
• "I really need a place. Jesus." He growled innerly. He was a billionaire and homeless at the moment. Well in New York anyway but he couldn't possibly fly to London, Dubai, Italy, or other several countries where he owned property. He seriously needed to get his life together.
• He decided to head over to one of his hotels here in NYC. He connected his Bluetooth and called up his real estate agent.
• "Hello Mr. Clark,"
• "Yes, Anthony. I wanted to know what the update on the sale of the mansion is."
• "Sir, we have potential buyers. When would you like to meet up with them there is also the issue of the furniture and various others of your belongings are still there."
• "Let me get back to you in a minute Anthony."
• "Sure,"
• Rickard hung up and called Cecelia. "Cecelia, I want the study and the gym of the mansion cleared and the belongings from those two rooms shifted to rental storage." Rickard rattled off very well knowing the excellent efficiency of his secretary. "Also from the bedroom, I only want the closet cleared of my belongings and have those packed and brought over to the office."
• "Okay, sir, and rest of the mansion?"
• "Donate rest to charity."
• "And when do you want this done and over?"
• "End of this week."
• "Consider it done sir."
• "Alright, thanks." Rickard hung up and called his real estate agent again. "The mansion will be cleared by the end of this week. I want it sold and gone by next week. You handle everything. I don't want to be involved."
• "But Mr. Clark---"
• "You can charge double. Also, I have shortlisted three of the penthouse properties you have sent Over."
• "Excellent Mr. Clark. If possible we can meet up tomorrow and visit and finalize?"
• "I will let you know by tomorrow morning," Rickard said as he hung up and glanced over at Mirabel as he parked outside his hotel stepped out, and handed the keys to the valet.
• He pulled open the passenger door.
• "Hey Mirabel, we are here." He said as he kept his hand on her shoulder. She was still in her hospital scrubs with her white Coat on. She opened her eyes and winced. Her eyes were swollen and red.
• Rickard helped her out and kept a hand around her waist as she steadied herself.
• "I just want to sleep," Mirabel whispered as she kept her head against Rickard’s shoulder.
• "Of course you do," Rickard muttered, worried about her current state of mind.
• They walked into the reception and the manager immediately came up to Rickard.
• "Good afternoon Mr. Clark." The manager glanced at Mirabel who was on the verge of passing out as she held on to Aaron.
• "Is the presidential suite free?"
• "Of course it is Sir." The manager said as he called up the staff and a minute later Rickard and Mirabel were escorted to the presidential suite.
• Rickard lifted Mirabel and tucked her in the bed after removing her white coat and shoes. Just as he was about to turn around and head into the living area, he felt her grab his hand.
• "Carl, why did you leave me?" She asked and Rickard’s clenched his jaw.
• He was starting to feel ticked off. He didn't want to be the guy who hauled her around while she was having a lover's tiff.
• "But you are, aren't you?" a voice in his head retorted back and Rickard groaned. Why was he so concerned about this woman? What was so special about her? He gently extracted his hand from hers and walked out of the room and closed the door after him.
• He went to the bar adjoining the living area and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He looked at the closed door.
• "It is just an attraction." He muttered and threw back the whiskey in one gulp.
• He knew he was done with this relationship stuff. Hannah Miller had taught him a kick-ass lesson. He had viewed her and their relation with a love-tinted glass and to him she could have never been wrong but now that love-tinted glass was tainted with hatred and he didn't have enough fingers to count off the signs that were there that spoke volumes about how their relation was spiraling out of control.
• He realized he should have never proposed.
• "Did I actually love her or did I just crave the security of having her?" Rickard asked himself and that question was going to haunt him.
• His childhood had messed him up more than he had realized.