Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
PEN
I lead us upstairs in silence. My head spinning. It’s been years since we’ve been in close proximity, just the two of us, and it’s messing with my equilibrium.
We enter the kitchen. My pride and joy. It sits along the back of the house, overlooking my landscaped gardens and the woodland and fields beyond. I love entertaining here. It’s my happy place, and baking has always been my stress reliever, so when I designed this space, I wanted airy. A place to sing and dance freely, somewhere to let go . The opposite to my work sanctuary.
The kitchen itself is modern, with sleek units and hidden draws. The surfaces are granite and reflect the cleverly positioned lighting. It’s minimalist, apart from my necessities, which include my coffee machine and toasted sandwich maker. A girl has her favourites.
Elijah walks up to my sandwich maker and turns to face me.
“You can take the woman out of the uni, but you can’t take the student out of the woman.”
“What? I can’t like toasted sandwiches because I earn millions a year?”
“Of course you can. It just surprises me.”
“I haven’t changed that much,” I say, suddenly defensive.
“Don’t kid yourself. Everyone changes as they get older. It’s called growing up and being responsible. You might like to think you’re still the same carefree Pen you were, but it’s impossible when you have responsibilities to staff and clients. Look at the house you live in. A far cry from the two-bedroom apartment you lived in with your mum with the broken tap and cracked sink.”
“I don’t think you can say I was carefree at university,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “I had a stick rammed up my backside and a chip the size of Greater London on my shoulder.”
Elijah chuckles but doesn’t deny it. He can’t because he knows it’s true.
“I may not be scratching a living, or living pay cheque to pay cheque. True. But I still enjoy the same things. Tuna melts, or a ham and cheddar cheese toastie are still my favourites.”
He wrinkles his nose, and it’s my turn to laugh. He always was anally retentive about what he put in his body.
“You’re just a food snob. But don’t worry. I’m going to order us a takeaway. I won’t offend your tastebuds.”
He says nothing, instead he walks around the space.
“Kat said this space is amazing,” Elijah says, moving to the wall of windows that look out over the lit garden. “The light must be incredible during the day.
I’m surprised at his words.
“It is,” I reply, unashamed to admit. “I had reflective windows installed to offer additional privacy, but with an unhindered view out. After drones became a thing, I didn’t want anyone able to spy on me.”
Call me paranoid, but such is life. My privacy and the safety of my friends and family are my number one priority. I love my home, but I’m not so na?ve to think my wealth doesn’t make me a target for the gutter press. Salacious gossip sells.
“It must be hard to up sticks and leave. You’ve put a lot of work into this place,” Elijah says, facing me.
I shrug, although my stomach rolls each time I think about leaving, but I shake it off. I’m moving to start a new life.
“One of us had to compromise. It’s easier for me to upend my life than for Kris,” I say.
Elijah remains silent, his eyes focused on the garden.
I move to one drawer and pull out a pile of my favourite takeaway menus. Moving towards Elijah, I hold them up.
“Any preference?”
When we were students and working late, we often had a takeaway delivered at Elijah’s request, although he always ordered the plain and boring, healthy versions of dishes. When I was in the zone, I was happy to ignore my stomach. However, he always needed refuelling and always ordered enough to feed an army. At the time, he was swimming over a hundred laps a day, and he was weight training with additional cardio.
I would complain, as I hated anyone eating near my keyboard. The thought of the germs alone gave me the ick. It still does. That’s why my office provides a first-class, subsidised canteen, and we encourage all staff to take breaks for meals instead of eating at their desks.
“I’m happy with whatever you fancy,” Elijah says.
“Really?” I say, unable to hide the hint of sarcasm.
Elijah always had a preference.
“Don’t sound like that,” he says, turning to face me. I don’t miss the glint in his eyes. “You’d think I was fussy or something.”
“You bloody well were. You always influenced what we ate. I know it’s been fifteen years, but I can’t imagine you’ve changed that much. Old habits and all that.”
His face falls and I realise I’ve hit a nerve.
“Fine, how about Chinese?” I say, not wanting to go there.
Knowing it’s what he always chose.
“I’d prefer Indian,” he says.
I shake my head, and he shrugs. Indian was always my preference. Is he trying to be thoughtful?
“Indian it is,” I say, not wanting to argue. “Here, take a look.”
Elijah takes the menu out of my hand, and I keep our fingers from touching. I don’t need this added complication. I’m already too aware of his presence.
He shoots me his order. I open my phone and access the app my company developed. It’s installed in all of Caleb’s new developments, connecting the residents with local businesses, encouraging a symbiotic relationship. It’s done wonders for building communities, giving the smaller, independent businesses the same reach as many of the franchises have.
I input our order and hit send.
“Forty minutes,” I say, gesturing for Elijah to take a seat on one of the sofas. “Can I get you anything to drink? Wine, beer?”
I know I won’t be drinking. I need to keep my wits about me. I need to stay on my guard. I’m sure alcohol and Elijah would not be a good combination.
“A beer,” Elijah says as I move to my wine fridge, grabbing a bottle and using the bottle opener to pop the top.
“Glass?” I ask as he shakes his head.
Still the same. Elijah always preferred swigging from the bottle. Said it lacked flavour in a glass.
I grab myself a juice and move to join him, taking the seat opposite.
I hand him the bottle.
“Any more ideas about who could be behind this?”
He rests his forearms on his thighs, cradling the bottle in his hands.
Something passes over his face.
I wait.
“I’ve been wracking my brains and come up empty. As a company, we pay over the odds, and our staff are all vetted.” He looks up, his eyes locking with mine. “If you’ve got in, is it possible someone else has hacked in?”
I shake my head. “I doubt it,” I tell him truthfully. “I searched for evidence of an external hit. Nothing. They are also using your login. That seems personal.”
“So, you still think it’s an inside job?” His expression hardens. “It’s driving me crazy trying to think who is walking past me every day, wanting to put a proverbial dagger in my back.”
His jaw clenches, the tendons on his neck standing out. A thick vein pulses on his forehead as it always did when he was stressed. I don’t think I’ve seen Elijah look so stressed since Darra announced her pregnancy.
I move my head, capturing his attention and holding his gaze.
“It’s okay. We’ll figure out what they’ve done, and then we’ll find out who is responsible. We’ll get them and stop them.”
“I believe you. My question, however, is how? How do we track the perpetrator?”
“We’ll set a trap and see who springs it,” I tell him.
There’s so much he doesn’t know. Darra wasn’t solely responsible for driving a wedge between us. I single-handedly achieved that through my own sheer stupidity and ego.
“Clearly,” he says drily. “Just like that.”
A shot of adrenalin shoots through my system as he pauses, as if weighing up his next words.
“This isn’t a standard setup, Pen, even for you. I’m not stupid.”
My pounding heartbeat steps up a notch.
“How would you know?”
We stare at each other, our eyes locked, waiting for the other to give.
The gate chimes.
Saved by the buzzer.
I move to the intercom and buzz the delivery driver through.
I grab my purse from the side, but Elijah holds out a wad of cash.
“This far out, I take it you give the driver a generous tip?”
I nod and accept his cash.
Why not? I’m doing him a favour.
I move to the door and open it.
“Hey, Ms P,” Jeremy, the local delivery driver, says.
He unzips his bag and holds out a large paper bag containing our takeaway.
“Evening, Jeremy. Thank you. How are your studies going?”
“Great, especially after you explained that coding tip. I got eighty-nine per cent on my project.”
His smile lights up his face.
“I’m pleased it helped. Remember to send your CV to the office for our summer internship program,” I remind him.
“Already done,” he says, and I make a note to ensure the enrolment team keeps an eye out for it.
I hand him his tip, and his eyes widen.
“That’s too much,” he tells me, shaking his head while trying to hand it back.
“My guest has donated to your college fund,” I tell him with a smile. “And believe me, he can afford it.”
Jeremy smiles and stuffs the money into his pocket.
“Thank you,” he says.
“Keep up the good work,” I say as he climbs onto his motorbike.
“Will do. Take care, Ms P.”
“You too, Jeremy.”
I watch as he heads back down the driveway. The gates open, and I check on the camera to ensure nobody enters as he leaves. We don’t need any uninvited photographers waiting in the bushes. I wait until they close before returning to the kitchen. I inhale deeply before I enter, the smell of the food making my mouth water. I didn’t realise how hungry I was until now.
“He sounds like a nice kid,” Elijah says, having clearly listened in on my conversation with Jeremy.
“He is. He works hard and has a lot of potential. His mum and dad run the post office in town. I overheard her telling one of her friends he was struggling with his assignment. His teacher was off on sick leave, and the supply teacher wasn’t an expert. Since it was not something that could be taught by reading a textbook, I stepped in and took their classes for a couple of weeks. I have my police check from working with the foundation, so it was easy enough.”
“That was kind of you.”
I smile. “You forget, I was that child once upon a time. They’re good kids, all of them. But Jeremy is a natural if given the right support and encouragement.”
“Well, if he doesn’t enjoy gaming, send him in my direction.”
I laugh. “Are you trying to poach my potential staff, Mr Frazer?”
My heart stills when Elijah grins back, the sight making me draw in a breath. It’s been a long time since I last saw him smile like that.
I hold up our dinner and it is then I notice Elijah set the table while I was gone.
I move across the room and begin unloading the containers. We’ve over-ordered, but then we always did. Elijah always had a voracious appetite. But that was a long time ago. He’s enormous now. Years of working out have made his shoulders broader and his legs and biceps wider, although his waist is still trim. I doubt there’s an ounce of fat on him. His physique has always been impressive; summers spent by his parent’s pool proved that.
I stop my thoughts from going any further. I will not think about him naked! I’m about to marry another man.
I turn away and grab two plates from the cupboard before taking a seat opposite.
Silence descends as we both tuck into the food.
“Have you spoken to Kat recently?” Elijah asks.
“We were due to meet in New York, but I’ll see how things go here,” I tell him.
He nods, and we continue eating, each lost in our own thoughts.
When we’re done, he helps me clear away the leftovers and puts the plates in the dishwasher. Robert and Franny ensured their children pulled their weight, even though their house had an army of staff. No billionaire brats. According to his parents, the staff were there, not for picking up toys, but so Franny could raise her children when Robert was away. Their stately home was too large for one person, and Franny refused to employ a team of nannies. When I asked her about it, she replied, “I wanted children. They are my and Robert’s responsibilities. The men and women they become will be due to the values and lessons we bestow on them, not a stranger.” When I stared at her wide-eyed, she rubbed my arm. “I am blessed, Pen. My husband has money, which means I can raise my children myself. Not everyone has that luxury, but I do, and I’m making the most of it.”
She knew my situation and how hard my mother worked to keep a roof over our heads, but I appreciated her sentiment. Mum didn’t have that luxury, even though I know she would have loved it. But lack of resources meant she had to work. My grandparents and the after-school club cared for me in her absence, and it was fine for me. But I could also appreciate Franny’s philosophy and loved that she was always around when I stayed at the Frazers during our university breaks. And I’ll give her kudos. Her dedication to her family has paid off. Every one of her children has gone on to make something of themselves.
When we’ve finished, I look over at Elijah, who is leaning against my kitchen side.
“What now?” he asks.
As if on cue, my watch chimes.
“Well, time to see what Tiffany has uncovered.”
“And then?”
“We make sense of the code changes and set a trap.”