Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
CHRISTIAN
Admitting I’m wrong when I’ve made a mistake has always challenged me in uncomfortable ways.
It reinforces my deep-rooted belief that I’m not as smart or as capable as the rest of my family is, and that’s something I avoid at all costs.
My discomfort with it is so profound, it’s led me to the place I’m in.
A place where I’m blackmailing officials to cover up Nexus’s collapse because I can’t ever let my family find out what happened.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not averse to blackmail, per se. I’ve used it many times to push through a deal, get better pricing, or myriad other reasons. It’s why the blackmail was necessary in this instance I’m having trouble with.
I hate lying on any level, but lying to my family is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
Since the publication of the HSE report released to the media, it’s as though I’m some kind of hero in their eyes.
To them, I handled a tough situation that could have had catastrophic, or at least highly unpleasant, consequences for my family, and I made it go away.
No one has questioned the why of it all. My father, my brothers, my sister, they’ve all just accepted my word for it that it’s sorted, and they no longer need to concern themselves with the details.
Meanwhile, I’m stuck in a vortex of untruths that keep me awake at night.
Guilt is a new concept to me. I reached the grand old age of twenty-eight (almost twenty-nine) before I realized what a fucking vile emotion that is.
If I’d had my way, I’d have gone to my grave never knowing the self-loathing it brings.
It doesn’t matter that Grania and Drew Taylor were culpable in their own demise.
If I’d concentrated more on checks and balances and less on which of the women in my black book I’d be fucking that weekend, maybe I’d have noticed something awry.
Or at least asked more fucking questions.
I am responsible for a huge portfolio of properties, and I’m usually diligent with the management of each and every one.
It’s diligence and attention to detail that help me avoid mistakes and make sure I’ve covered all the bases, but with Nexus, I trusted the Taylors far more than I should have.
This wasn’t our first rodeo. I’d worked with them both on several other projects.
Maybe that was the problem all along. I got too comfortable.
Their kids cross my mind a lot. They might be adults, but losing a parent at any age fucking sucks.
Ask me how I know. I was only eight when my mother took an overdose and drowned in the bath, and I still miss her twenty years later.
Time doesn’t heal a damn thing. It only makes it easier for us to live with our grief.
But guilt… that’s a whole other ballgame. I’d choose grief over guilt every goddamn time.
It’s nine days since I went on that date with Grace, and I still cringe at how I ended the evening.
When she brought up the building collapse, I acted like a complete jerk, cutting her tentative questions down with a scythe sharp enough to shred metal.
I’ve picked up my phone several times to call her and apologize.
On each occasion, I’ve ended the call before it connected.
I doubt she wants to hear from me again.
Normally, I wouldn’t care. Women come and women go.
I’m not interested in settling for one when I can enjoy an array of beautiful companions.
But Grace is, was, different, and I can’t put my finger on why.
I’m surrounded by upper class, well-bred women, but none of them have ever intrigued me like she did.
Her class was stitched into the fabric of her soul, and it showed.
Sure, she’s beautiful, but my interest in her went far deeper than that. She kept my attention, and that’s an issue I often struggle with when I’m dating. My focus drifts, but with Grace, I hung onto every word she said.
Maybe it’s for the best. At some point, my father is going to suggest a bride, and I’ll have no choice but to go along with it. The worst thing I can do right now is become embroiled with one woman only to find out I’m expected to marry another.
“We’re here, sir.”
I blink, dragging my thoughts back to the present. Introspection makes time go fast, that’s for sure. I exit the car and stride into the office building for my two o’clock meeting.
An hour later, I step outside and drop my sunglasses in place. Marshall opens the back door of my car, but I shake my head. He closes it again, primed to react to whatever I decide to do next.
“I need some fresh air.”
“Of course, sir.”
He falls into step behind me as I set off, although I don’t have a destination in mind. I’ve barely walked ten steps when my gaze is drawn to the other side of the road, and there’s Grace, hand in the air, tentatively waving.
Serendipity.
I glance up to the sky to a God I’m not sure I believe in. “If you do exist, I owe you one,” I mutter.
Looking both ways, I wait for a gap in the traffic, then jog across the street. “Are you stalking me?” I grin, unable to hide how happy I am to see her.
Christ, she is a fucking dream—one I don’t deserve.
“If I said I was, would you have me arrested?”
“Only if we can share a cell.” I wink at her, and when she blushes, I have to tamp down the urge to kiss the fuck out of her right here in the middle of the street.
“I was going to call.” She grimaces. “I am sorry I pried.”
I shake my head. “No. The apology is mine to make. I started to call you several times, but apparently, I’m a cowardly idiot who bottled it every time. The collapse of Nexus is a touchy subject, but I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did.”
“Do you, maybe…” She bites her lip. “Do you have time to go for a coffee?”
I’m due on a call in ten minutes, but it can wait. She can’t. “For you, I’ll make time.”
As we stroll down the street, I fish out my phone and message my assistant.
She can attend in my place, take notes, and update me later.
Coffee with Grace is far more interesting than a meeting with the council over a brownfield site I want to develop north of the river.
Truthfully, a meeting with Lucifer himself trumps the council.
Petty fuckers, each and every one of them, and I don’t have the patience today, or any day, for their bullshit.
“I’m not keeping you from something, am I?”
“Nope.” I slide the phone back into my jacket pocket and give Grace my undivided attention. “Did you know I’d be there today?”
She nods sagely. “Yeah. The tracker I slipped in your pocket at dinner came in handy.” She pauses for a beat and then laughs. “Pure coincidence, Christian. Although I’m not mad about it.”
See, this is what I adore about Grace. She’s sharp and funny, and I like that in a woman.
I also adore how she’s coming out of her shell a little more.
Granted, my treatment of her at dinner must’ve sent her scuttling back into it for shelter, but today’s meeting is a chance to do some damage control.
“I’m not mad, either.” I push open the door to an independent coffee place that, in my opinion, makes far better java than the chains.
A bell dings over the door. Marshall steps inside with us, then positions himself next to a rubber banana plant; his hands linked behind his back. The woman behind the counter looks from him to me, and back to him again, but says nothing.
“What’ll you have?” I ask Grace.
“Latte, please.”
I make eye contact with the woman who’s still staring at Marshall. “Two lattes.”
She blinks, eventually focusing on me. “Huh?”
“Two lattes. Want his phone number? He’s single.”
Her cheeks bloom with color, and she ducks her chin. “Two lattes, coming up. Go take a seat. I’ll bring them over.”
I gesture to a table, and Grace sits. As I take the seat opposite, she grins. “That was mean.”
“I like teasing people. Besides, he is single.”
“You know she’s not staring at him because he’s good looking, right?”
I press my palm to my chest. “Oh, no. Is it the bulge... under his jacket?”
For a second, her eyes flare, then she narrows them. “Are you ever serious?”
“When the situation calls for it. But life’s too short, no? We’re a long time dead.”
She pales, breaking eye contact. I curse.
“Fuck, Grace, I’m sorry. That was thoughtless.” I take her hand, and she lets me. “You must miss your mother.”
She bites her lip. “Dreadfully.”
“I lost my mother when I was eight.” It’s public record, but only if she cared to research, and I can’t see why she’d do that.
“You did? God, Christian, that’s awful.”
“Yeah, it was.” Still fucking hurts, too.
“Not sure why I told you that. I haven’t mentioned my mother’s death with anyone outside the family in years.
” I frown. “Strike that. It’s more like never.
I don’t talk about her with the women I date.
” Narrowing my eyes, I study her. Really study her. “Why are you different?”
“I hope that question is rhetorical.” She grins. “I’m glad you shared, though. It shows you can empathize with my loss, and that means a lot.”
“Losing anyone is hard. Losing a mother is on an entirely different level.” I lean back as our lattes arrive. When the woman serving moves back behind the counter, I pluck a sugar packet out of the holder, tear it open, and empty it into my drink.
“I wanted to thank you again for the other night. I’m still buzzing over meeting Destiny.”
“She’s good people. Her husband, too. On some level, you’re probably related.”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
“He’s an earl. The seventeenth Earl of Montford. Maybe you should map your family tree. Might find out you have a claim to his estate.” I chuckle. “Loris would love that.”
“I doubt that,” Grace murmurs, briefly casting her gaze out the window. “It was a wonderful night, though. One I’ll remember for a long time.”
“Despite the arsehole who ruined the end, huh?”