Chapter 41
EVIE
Maven Inc. I pull Oliver’s business card from my purse, remembering my mild amusement as he handed it to me weeks ago. I called him a relic, asked if he’d kicked and screamed when his company dragged him into the digital age. He smiled and said, if nothing else, it would save me googling him again. He also said I could drop by the office anytime. He probably had a little afternoon delight in mind.
I hadn’t. Yet. Had sex on his desk. And it’s not happening on my inaugural visit, I decide, as I pull out my phone to call an Uber from Nora’s to take me to swanky Belgravia.
When Nora accused Oliver, my mind said: this land is not worth his time. But shouldn’t I have sprung to his defense? Thought something like, He wouldn’t do that or He’s not so underhanded . Only I know otherwise. He’s never hidden himself from me—I know he’s capable, but that doesn’t mean I think he’s behind the letter or the fence. Not that this makes me feel any better.
I give myself a shake. Mitchell lied to me from the moment we met. At least I know what I’m getting with Oliver. He’s not a devil. Except between the sheets. I love him despite his faults because that’s how love works.
The office building is Georgian, four stories high, with a white stucco facade. If I’d given any thought to what Oliver’s office would look like, this is exactly what I would’ve imagined. No chrome-and-glass tower for him.
I report to the elegant reception desk to hear he’s unavailable. Not not here but not available . I turn away, unsure what the distinction is, and I’m about to call him when I hear my name.
“Eve, hey!” At Fin’s exuberance, I swing around. “How are you?”
He crosses the space in long steps, and I turn my head to receive his kiss, laughing as he moves to kiss the other cheek, and we almost bump noses. “Sorry, I forgot. The European way.”
“We can shake hands, but it seems a little cold blooded, given the news.”
“The news?” I repeat.
“Oliver and you?” he begins in confidential tones, whether because he’s concerned about being overheard or for the sake of my blushes, I can’t be sure. “The big L-word confessions?”
Not my blushes, then.
“Ohmygod.” My words fall in a rush, my cheeks pinking with happiness, not embarrassment. “He told you?”
“Eh.” He shrugs. “Not in so many words. Not that I needed to hear them. It’s so obvious—he’s gone from being regular-level tetchy to next-level asshole, then to sublimely happy.”
I laugh as Fin’s hand gestures make a jolting map of Oliver’s moods.
“Hey, I’m serious. He’s suddenly like this transcendental being.”
“Have you considered the Oliver that’s coming to the office might be an alien ...”
“He’s something else all right. But what are you doing here? Coming or going?” he adds.
“Going. Oliver isn’t here. Or isn’t available.” My eyes move briefly to the reception desk again. “It was just a visit on the fly, nothing arranged.”
Fin snaps his fingers. “He’s out of the office all day. I remember now. Out of London, in fact.”
“Oh.” He never mentioned it, but then we don’t much talk about his work, though he likes to hear about my day. “No worries. I’ll catch him later.”
“Got time for a coffee?”
“No, that’s fine. You must be busy too.”
“ Got time for a coffee? as a pretext for me teasing out all the juicy details Oliver’s not sharing?”
“Nope!” I reply with a laugh.
“So you don’t want to hear how he’s skipping though the office, singing Disney songs, and sniffing tulips?”
“He is so not the skipping type.” I eye the flower arrangement on a nearby table. No cheap and cheerful tulips there.
“But wouldn’t that be something?” Fin says, rubbing the sandy bristles on his chin.
“Something freaky,” I sort of sing under my breath as Fin turns and indicates a nearby door with raised brows.
“That coffee?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “Why not?”
“Fancy,” I murmur as he closes the door behind us. I’m not sure why I say it, other than that it is. It’s not an office—more like an informal meeting room. The room is decorated in muted tones and dark wood, the decor simultaneously masculine and soothing. Abstract art hangs from the walls, a coffee bar taking up the whole back wall.
“How d’you take it?” he asks, standing at the fancy inbuilt coffee machine. “Latte? Cortado? This baby does them all.”
“Flat white, please.”
I take a seat as Fin pushes a couple of buttons, producing a perfect-looking coffee in an elegant white cup and saucer.
He takes a seat opposite me, crossing one long leg over the other. “What’s funny?”
“Just the malicious gleam in your eye.”
“Not malicious, more . . .”
“Mischievous?”
“Gotta have something to entertain me,” he says, sipping from his cup. “Seriously,” he adds, setting it down on the marble coffee table between us. “I’m really happy for both of you.”
“Thank you.” I’m oddly warmed and more than a little embarrassed as I reach into my purse and pull out my glasses and my phone.
“I don’t know what you’ve done to him, but he’s really happy.”
His words make me glow. “He makes me happy too.”
“That’s good. I mean, I had my concerns. Oliver is a complicated man.”
“Aren’t you all?”
He huffs a laugh. “We’re simple creatures, Eve. Essentially big house cats.”
“Because you pee on things to mark your territory?”
“Not me,” he says as he laughs. “Not sure about Oliver.”
“Oliver is not a house cat.” Fiddling with my glasses, I slide them on.
“We just want to be looked after. Loved on. Maybe get the occasional belly rub.”
“That’s not a cat. That’s a dog.”
“ Men are dogs doesn’t have the same ring to it.” He grins. “I’m glad you’re both happy, though ...” Fin stands and leans over the coffee table, actually plucking my glasses from my face. Stunned, I let him.
He peers through the lenses, then hands them back. “Just making sure they aren’t rose tinted.”
“And he’s your friend?” I laugh as I fold the arms, then rest them in my lap.
“It’s a hard job, but someone has to do it.”
Hard and do are not two words I intend to discuss with Oliver’s friend.
“You know ...” He pauses as though weighing his words. “I swore he was up to something that night we met you for dinner. I don’t know if he told you, but I might’ve accused him of stringing you along. What with Atherton and all that crap that passed between them and Lucy.”
“Yeah, Lucy.” I stare down at my cup as I suffer that familiar sinking sensation. He loves me, but all the trouble, the stuff he put me through, was on her behalf. I know she was more than his PA, but I can’t bring myself to ask about her. My pride won’t let me.
“He told you about her? Wow.”
“No,” I add quickly. “I know about losing the land at tender and what Mitch did. But, honestly,” I say, painting on my I don’t give a fuck face, “I’m not interested in going over old ground.” He shoots me a doubtful look, but I just raise my chin. “He’ll tell me if he wants too.” No way I’m lowering myself to ask him.
“Oliver swore he’d crush Atherton.” Fin pauses, his attention turning inward for a beat. “I can’t say I blame him. I guess I worried he was making you part of that.”
“I think he’s got his closure,” I say, lifting my cup, not about to mention our troublesome beginnings. Like Yara says, love has sprung from stranger wells.
“I told him months ago he should’ve set the guy on his ass. But I might’ve also suggested the pair hate fuck it out.”
“What?” I splutter, worried my coffee might shoot out my nose.
“Shock tactics,” he adds with a grin. “I’m glad he’s getting over it, though God only knows what he’s going to do with that monstrosity.”
“Northaby? I kind of love the place.”
“I said he’d look at home there, playing lord of the manor.”
“He’s got the tweed,” I add with a giggle.
“I told him he should move out there, give running that giant petting zoo a shot.”
“I bet he loved that.”
“He replied, ‘I’m a businessman, not a philanthropist,’” Fin says, mimicking Oliver’s cut glass tones. “Then he shot me down when I tried to turn the conversation to breeding.”
“Oh my gosh. I am not touching that.”
“You should persuade him.”
“No way. As long as the animals aren’t destined for some exotic-animal trade, I’m happy for him.”
“Oliver’s a lot of things, but I know he wouldn’t do that. Think about it, though. Access to your very own safari park.”
“Actually, it’s animals I came to speak to Oliver about.”
“Oh?”
“Well, I wanted to pick his brains about the sanctuary I volunteer at.”
“Will I do? I’m on my fifth coffee of the day, so I guess now is as good a time as any.”
“Do you happen to know how I can trace the owner of a company in England?”
“Depends. What kind of company is it?”
“A limited company, I think.” Slipping on my glasses again, I flip over my phone and bring the touchscreen to life. “Atterir Limited is its name.”
“You can find the owner of a limited company easy enough.” Stretching out his long legs, he pulls out his own phone. A few taps on the screen, then he rounds the low table to sit next to me. “So, this government website makes the names of limited companies available. And this company, Atterir—do I have it spelled right?”
I glance down and nod. “Yes.”
“Well, its owner is listed as another company,” he says, tapping a little more. “And it looks like that company is registered outside of the UK in an offshore jurisdiction.”
“Can you tell who owns that company?”
He gives a quick shake of his head. “The second company is registered in the Marshall Islands. Companies there aren’t required to disclose their shareholders. It’s basically an offshore haven for shell companies. Mind telling me what this is about?”
So I tell him about Nora and the new fencing and how distressed she is. “It seems kind of ridiculous that there’s an ancient law still in force that allows people to just claim land.”
“That’s not strictly how it works. The land must have been abandoned and due diligence undertaken to make sure there are no other claimants. And even then, it takes years.”
“Nora thinks the owners are all dead. What would that mean, do you think?”
“She needs to know, not just surmise. That’s what this company will be doing in the meantime—finding out. I guess Nora could also claim it’s not abandoned, given she’s maintained the land for those years.”
“She could do this herself? Get in before whoever this is? I mean, she fenced it first.”
“It’s possible. Why don’t you leave this with me, and I’ll do a little digging.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course not.”
“My next idea was to engage a lawyer, so yeah.” I draw my shoulders up. I guess I wasn’t expecting his help. “I’d appreciate it.”
“Let me see if I can trace the company, then find out what Nora’s legal standing is.”
“Thank you so much, Fin.”
“Hey, what are friends for?”
“In my experience, big knickers and inappropriate text messages.” I bark out a laugh. “Sorry, I was just thinking of my friend, Yara.”
“Should I be buying Oliver underwear?”
“He’d just love that.”
“No, he wouldn’t. But I think I’d like to be introduced to Yara, Eve’s friend.”
“That is not happening,” I say, sliding my phone away. “She’s looking for a husband.”
“Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy a good time while she waits. Is she pretty?”
“She’s pretty fierce.”
“My favorite kind.”
“Like a flavor of milkshake?” I say in the vein of Don’t you dare .
“Eve, come on. I don’t have a date for Northaby’s charity ball.”
“Take Matt,” I say, laughing as I swing my purse onto my shoulder. Yara would probably ask if his dick is decked in diamonds. Maybe ask for visual proof. Seriously though, I don’t know Fin well enough to get involved, and there are the aunties to consider. If he didn’t treat her right, he’d likely find himself impaled on one of the Gulabi Gang’s sticks.
“Come on, what do you say?”
I pat his arm like an elderly aunt. “Honestly, Fin. I don’t think you could keep up with her.”