Chapter 11 Cole
Cole
I’d assumed Reuben would know his way around a golf course, but his hot-pink polo shirt, lemon-patterned shorts, and green argyle socks suggested otherwise. He glanced uneasily at the driver offered by his young caddy and lowered his voice. “Is that the right one?”
The caddy nodded. “Yes, sir.”
All the gear, no idea. Reuben had dragged me away from Charlotte to Scotland, and he didn’t have a fucking clue.
“What’s new with you?” I put just enough energy into my voice to look like I gave a shit. I didn’t. But always better to keep your enemies close. Reuben was a talker. He often let slip useful snippets about Thorner Enterprises.
He pulled off his neon-orange baseball cap and mussed his hair, making it flop all over. Someone had to be paying him to wear that outfit. We’d already had to pause twice so he could upload content for his poor, delusional followers.
His smile was sheepish. “Oh, you know. A bad couple of races. We’ll do better in Abu Dhabi. I’m sure of it.”
Formula One bored the life out of me. I wouldn’t be asking follow-up questions. I took my time lining up my shot. If my father had sent Reuben here to spy on me—which was always a distinct possibility—then I’d better demolish him on this course.
With a solid stroke and a satisfying ping, I fired the ball down the emerald fairway. I shielded my eyes from the sun to watch it sail off and land in the rough. Dad’s voice played in my head. Pathetic. Can’t swing a club for love nor money.
Reuben gave me a good-natured pat on the back. “I finally got the big boss-man out of the office. Thought it was about time I hung out with my bro.”
Bro? Nope. We shared DNA. It may as well have been from a sperm donor. I hadn’t known about this man growing up. Reuben’s mother had been my father’s secretary. Philip Thorner left us for them. Traded one family for another. This guy was supposedly the upgrade.
Just because Reuben had the same blue eyes and dark hair as the rest of us, it didn’t make us brothers.
That suspiciously straight nose was definitely not a Thorner nose.
It had to have come from his mother or the hands of a skilled surgeon.
And that was definitely his mother’s cheesy grin.
Smiling so widely and unashamedly wasn’t in the Thorner DNA.
Reuben held his tongue between his teeth as he lined up his shot. With a flourish, he launched his ball. It landed near mine in the rough. Surprising that he’d actually made contact.
I walked casually past Reuben. “How’s things with Philip?”
“Dad?” He fell in step next to me. “Oh, you know. Evil schemes. World-domination plans. Probably working on a piranha tank to torture his rivals.”
This was rich coming from the son my father had chosen.
Philip Thorner had destroyed my mother. He’d made my life a living hell.
This kid didn’t know how good he’d had it.
I located my ball within the long grass.
You’ll never make it, boy. You’re good for nothing.
I lined up the shot and launched the ball.
It bounced nicely onto the green and rolled gently toward the pin.
Planting his feet, Reuben swung his club. The shot was clean enough to make the ball leap back onto the green. A smile of pride lit his face. This was my chance to probe him while his guard was down.
“Anything new with the business?”
“Dad doesn’t talk to me about business stuff.
” He adjusted his ridiculous baseball cap.
“But this is great, isn’t it? Me and you hanging out.
This is what I’ve always wanted. A chance for us to get to know each other.
Maybe we could get Lucas and Theo to come next time? The four of us brothers hanging out?”
Lucas maybe, but Theo? Not a chance. Theo was as sociable as a rottweiler after a tooth extraction. On the green, I tapped the ball lightly with my putter. It landed just short of the hole. Irritation tightened my hands around the club. You need to toughen up, boy. Your mother made you soft.
Reuben tilted his chin and surveyed the grounds. “It’s beautiful up here, isn’t it?”
It was, but I was itching to get back to London.
Time out of the office always made me angsty, and now I had an engagement ring to shop for, a wedding to plan, and Charlotte to get back to.
She’d looked a little lost at the London house.
It probably wasn’t the right place. I had to find somewhere for her to stay where she’d be comfortable.
Reuben slapped his cap back on his head backward. “Oh, there was one thing. You’ll never guess who Dad had over to dinner the other night. Gabe Rivers.”
I kept my voice level. “Gabe Rivers, huh?”
Reuben readjusted his position and drew his club back. He fired his ball just short of the pin. “They’re in talks about a hotel in Rome.”
You better be fucking kidding. “La Dolce Vita?”
Reuben shrugged. “Sounds right.”
I brought my club down too sharply and missed the ball.
No way. Absolutely no fucking way was he getting his hands on that hotel.
Why did he even want it? La Dolce Vita had been Mum’s favorite vacation spot.
It was fucked up that my father wanted it after what he’d done, like a serial killer removing their victim’s finger as a trophy.
All the times I’d try to talk to Gabe about it and he’d sell to my father? Over my dead body.
“How far has he got with it?”
“Not far. He hasn’t made a formal offer yet. But you know what he’s like. He won’t give up.”
No, he wouldn’t do that. A stubborn streak was as much a part of the Thorner genome as this fucking nose. My father must have caught wind of my plans. It wouldn’t be the first time. Now, he was out to sabotage me. If Reuben had nothing more to tell me, then I needed to jump on this immediately.
Reuben putted his ball. He flashed a shit-eating grin and shrugged. “Beginner’s luck.”
Smug fucker. I should have done better on that first swing. This was a waste of time. I’d had enough. Enough of Reuben’s grinning selfies and his vertigo-inducing outfit. It wound me up just looking at him.
I pulled out my phone and sent my PA a message to ready the jet. “Work emergency. We’ll have to cut this short.”
Reuben’s face dropped. “Already? We’ve only just started.”
“You know how it is. Work comes first.”
His laugh was all white teeth. “You’ve got it twisted, Bro. Work to live, not live to work.”
My father had wanted an heir, and instead he had a work-shy kid who spent his time racing fast cars and lazing around on yachts.
Reuben hadn’t worked a day in his life. Hurtling around a racetrack like a madman didn’t count.
Dad had played the worst game of poker when he’d left us for a new family. He’d twisted when he should have stuck.
He held up his phone on his selfie stick and flashed a hopeful smile. “One with my bro for the grid?”
Nope. “Goodbye, Reuben.”
“Another time? I’ll ask Lucas and Theo to come.” His imploring voice chased me across the fairway.
Good luck with that.
I phoned Theo from the office. He answered on the fourth ring. Sloppy.
“I’m in the middle of something.” His voice was a derisive growl.
And people called me the arsehole brother. Theo’s charm knew no bounds. “I need your help. Philip’s not going to be happy with me in the coming days.”
“What have you done now?”
“He wants a new hotel. I’m going to make sure he doesn’t get what he wants. But it’s only fun if it blindsides him. He mustn’t know what I’m planning until I’m ready.”
My father always knew what I was up to. Anyone else would have called me paranoid, but not Theo. Theo knew what Philip Thorner was capable of. I’d long suspected my father had spies in my company. Rooting them out wasn’t easy.
Strange noises filtered down the phone: clanking metal, thuds, grunting.
It sounded like he was at the gym or some kind of orgy.
Theo was such a dark horse it could have been either, or both.
An orgy in a gym was probably a perfect Sunday morning for Theo.
He never took a call with video. Only ever voice.
“You haven’t wound him up enough already? People heal, Cole. They try to move on.”
I’ll heal in hell. It was easy for him to say. He’d moved out as soon as he could. “Philip hasn’t moved on. He won’t leave me alone.”
“He would. If only you’d stop poking him. He’s like a wasp at a picnic. Just keep still and don’t flap your hands so much and he’ll buzz off.”
Yes, he was a wasp, and he’d spread too much venom. He’d ruined my picnic. He’d ruined my fucking life. “Are you going to help me or not?”
A deep sigh. “I know a counterespionage specialist. We’ll set up surveillance. Scan for bugs. Standard cybersecurity measures.”
An ache blazed between my shoulder blades. I’d been up all night working, and my spine wasn’t happy. “I need thorough security countermeasures and monitoring of threats.”
I could hear his condescending smile in his gravelly voice. “I know what you need. I’m on it.”
“What do you know about Gabe Rivers?”
“The football club boss? Not much. He was on the party circuit when he was younger. Bit wild. Seems to have settled down.”
“I need a meeting with him, but he won’t take my calls.”
Theo snorted. “Sensible man.”
Idly, I lifted a silver ball on the Newton’s cradle on my desk, watching the metal spheres tap lightly against each other. “If you hear anything about his whereabouts, let me know. I’m not averse to accidentally bumping into him somewhere.”
“Stalking him, you mean?”
He sounded nonplussed by the prospect. Theo’s security firm had an impeccable reputation.
On the surface, everything was above board.
My brother was a war hero with a medal for bravery, but he’d come back from Helmand different in a way I couldn’t put my finger on.
It wasn’t just the physical scars. It was something rippling beneath the surface.
A darkness that I didn’t like to think about too much.
“Just some light stalking,” I said.
A pause. “I know he’s hosting a big fundraising shindig next week. Lots of high-profile people. I’ve got my team running security on a few attendees.”
“Perfect. I need a ticket.”
“Then get one.”
The line went dead. Prickly fucker was always hanging up on me.
I swiveled in my chair to take in the jagged London skyline through the expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows: the shining ribbon of the Thames, Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament.
Clouds drifted in a clear blue sky. A warm feeling spread through me.
What a beautiful day to fuck with my father. It always gave me a smile.
I put a call through to my PA. “I need a ticket for Gabe Rivers’s charity fundraiser next week.”
“Just one?”
Actually, no. This was the ideal time to debut my charming new fiancée. “Make it two.”