6. Sterling
6
STERLING
“I thought when we dissolved the company, we might have gotten some answers.” I clench my fist, cursing under my breath. “None of the employees had anything to say?”
Denver shakes his head.
“Nothing?” Mal scoffs. “You don’t manufacture yachts for more than four decades and not amass some disgruntled employees who are happy to slate the company. Especially when it folds and leaves them unemployed.”
“Boss, we’ve been back and forth since it happened.” Denver meets my gaze.
He’s right. I’ve been sending him and his security team on a wild chase around Cape Town for two years, refusing to allow myself to believe there isn’t an explanation for what happened.
The report into the yacht fire was inconclusive. But I was convinced someone was to blame for losing my wife and son. Because if it wasn’t someone else’s fault they died, then that leaves me.
I didn’t save them.
“The engine design?”
Denver shakes his head like it’s the first time I’ve asked him. When in reality, it’s the first thing he checked out years ago.
“Same one that’s in thousands of others without issue. There hasn’t been another fire in any of them since…”
I drag my hands down my face.
“So it wasn’t the company who built the yacht or the one that designed it. We’re back to square fucking one,” Mal hisses, tension lining his forehead.
“I’ve got a contact,” Denver says, leaning forward in his black suit, elbows resting on his knees. “He might be able to help. Someone he knows just started working at the marina. Those CCTV cameras they claimed were out of action?” He cracks his knuckles. “Yeah, turns out they might not have been completely honest with us.”
“How long until you can get your hands on them?” Mal asks, a murderous glint shining in his eyes.
He’s been as hell-bent as me on finding out what really happened that day. What stole his sister and nephew from him. She was the only family he had. Not counting myself and the kids. He and Elaina lost their parents long before mine passed. They were close. He’s never given up hunting for answers, the same as me.
But I’m starting to believe we’ll never get any answers.
“Shouldn’t be long.” Denver looks at Jenson and Killian, two of his team members, flanking one side of my desk.
Beaufort Diamonds has its own security team, as does Seasons. Jenson and Killian work for the family, doing whatever we need. And they’re headed by Denver, an ex-special forces guy who’s worked for me for years.
I trust him with my life.
“Whatever you need, the jet, the house in Cape Town, it’s yours. Do whatever you have to.”
“Thanks, Boss.” He nods.
“That’s not a damn toy,” I snap at Jenson.
“Sorry, Boss.” He catches the pink stone mid-air that he’s been throwing up and down absentmindedly and places it back on my desk. I pin him with a glare until he twists the crystal heart back into the exact position he found it in.
Mal eyes me with interest. “Been accessorizing?”
“They’re Halliday’s.”
“Ah. The love expert.”
“The lady you’ve got us running a check on, Boss?”
I grimace at Killian’s question, guilt swimming in my stomach. We check out everyone who comes into close contact with our family. It’s the way it’s always been. If someone new comes to work for us, we dig deep. We have to know everything. Being the largest diamond jewelry brand in the world comes at a cost. There are always people with ulterior motives.
But Halliday isn’t working within Beaufort Diamonds or Seasons. She’s working with me personally. The only sensitive information she’ll have access to is what I choose to share with her.
“Just surface level. Criminal history, that’s all. I don’t want to know anything personal. She’s not a threat.”
“Maybe not, but she sure is pretty.” Jenson whistles. “I would.”
“You. Would. Not,” I grit. “Halliday’s too sophisticated for a kid like you.”
Jenson scowls as Killian breaks out laughing.
“Maybe when your training wheels are off, eh?” Denver smirks.
“I’m twenty-fucking-one,” Jenson grumbles.
“Yeah, and if it weren’t for the fact you’re built like a truck, you’d look about twelve,” Killian jibes.
Jenson’s got a baby face. But Denver trusts him, and his work is impeccable. He’s smart with good instincts. The bravado and cockiness that rolls off him will lessen with age and experience.
I throw him a brief wink so he knows we’re messing.
“All right. Keep me up to date and let me know if you need anything else.”
“Boss.” Denver nods, exiting my office with Jenson and Killian on his heels.
“So this date you’re going on?” Mal arches a brow, his lips curling up.
“To appease Sinclair, that’s all.”
“Hey, we’ve known each other long enough now. I’m happy for you. I know you and Elaina were… I know things weren’t good in those months before she died. You should think about what Sinclair wants for you. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s time.”
I crack my knuckles, tension bunching up the muscles in my shoulders.
“Maybe it will never be time.”
“Sinclair and Sullivan are adults now. They don’t need you the same as they once did.”
I wince at his words, and he sighs.
“Why not get some happiness for you?”
“I’m not lonely…”
“When was the last time you saw the same woman twice? Shared a bed with her for more than a night?”
I shake my head. “Don’t.”
“I’m just saying. You only live once. Make it count.”
“Are you heading back to Africa before I go to LA to check on things there?”
Mal chuckles. “Trying to get rid of me, huh? How long will you be gone?”
“Only a day or two. I’ll check on the club. Visit Clay.”
Mal nods. “Give your brother my regards.”
“I will.”
The LA club is fine without me. Bradley has been doing a good job since he came onboard as a manager six months ago. But I still like to check in once a month. It’s what I do.
Work.
Sinclair pursued modeling after what happened. And Sullivan told me he wanted to take over as CEO of Beaufort Diamonds earlier than we had planned. We all needed to keep busy, by any means possible.
Everything changed the day we lost them both.
“I’ll head out in a week or so. Ade already knows how my chat with Sullivan went, but I’ll visit him in person. Then I’ll be back. Trudy’s mother is coming to stay next month,” Mal says, breaking the contemplative silence.
I chuckle at his grimace. “Ah, the mother-in-law.”
“Yeah. Maybe I’ll stay in Africa.” He snorts. “At least my mother loved you.”
“God rest her soul,” I say.
Mal nods. “God rest all their souls.”
At 6:15, Halliday walks into the restaurant’s bar in a fitted black dress and heels. I rise from my seat and signal to her.
She walks to me and kisses me on both cheeks. “You’re early.”
“So are you.”
A smile curves her lips. “Can I take this as a sign of you being keen to meet Juliette?”
“You can take it as a sign that a gentleman should always be first, so he never keeps a lady waiting.”
“Ah.” She sits as I pull out a chair for her. “So in this instance, it’s me who was on the gentleman’s mind?” she teases.
“Indeed,” I murmur. “I believe you’ve been on it ever since you suggested my kissing needed work. A man doesn’t easily forget a woman who suggests such things.”
She laughs as I wink at her and take the seat beside her, signaling the bartender. He takes our order, then leaves.
“Don’t take it personally. I ask everyone that question.”
“And do they?”
“Do they what?” Halliday’s eyes are bright as she looks into mine.
“All require work?”
She pokes her bottom lip out, and the urge to suck it past mine and see what it tastes like smacks me like a punch to the jaw. She’s barely thirty. Not much older than my daughter. The daughter who hired her to find me love with a woman my age . I’m the proverbial dirty old man, having impure thoughts about my relationship coach.
My gift , as Sinclair reminded me when we spoke earlier.
“Almost always.” Halliday holds my eyes, hers twinkling. “But they get to work on it once I match them, so…” She shrugs. “I don’t think they mind putting in the work.”
“I see.” I chuckle as the bartender returns and places two glasses down.
“You didn’t want something stronger?” I ask as she takes a sip of her orange juice.
“I don’t drink.” Her smile thins before she places her glass down.
I nod and lift my brandy to my lips.
Her phone chimes in her purse, and she pulls it out.
“Rory?” I enquire.
She’s frowning as she looks at the screen, then her features soften into a beautiful smile. She turns the phone toward me.
“She spoils that dog,” I say as I look at the photo of Monty wearing a sweater with a cupcake printed on it.
“She says it’s his birthday soon?” Halliday types a reply to my daughter, then slides her phone into her purse.
“It is. I got him as a gift for her shortly after…” I swirl the amber liquid in my glass before lifting it to take a large gulp, savoring the burn that runs down my throat.
“I’m sorry.”
Soft, warm fingers curl around mine on the tabletop. Pale pink nails glisten back at me.
“Thank you,” I murmur, something shifting in my chest as I stare at her hand on mine. It should look wrong against mine. It should feel wrong.
I turn my wrist and entwine my fingers with hers until there’s one beautiful, slender finger followed by a rougher, weathered one.
One, then the other, over, and over.
I take a deep breath, studying how they look side by side.
“That dog is about the only thing that makes her smile. I’d get her a whole pack if I thought they’d make it happen more often.”
“Sterling.” Halliday’s voice comes out breathy.
“I love my family. They’re everything to me. All I have.”
She listens intently, and I can feel her gaze fixed on my face as I admire our entwined fingers. I stroke her thumb, desperately soaking in the way her small hand fits inside mine like I was always meant to keep it safe.
Treasure it.
I don’t know what possesses me, but I bring our joined hands to my lips and press a soft kiss to the back of hers.
“Thank you,” I murmur, placing them onto the table, running my thumb over her knuckles in a gentle sweep before letting go.
“Why are you thanking me? I haven’t done anything yet.” Frowning, she looks into my eyes like she’s trying to figure out a puzzle that has no answer.
“You’ve given my daughter something to feel excited about. This quest of hers to find me someone—regardless of if it happens—it’s made her happier. Given her something new to focus on.”
“The only reason it won’t happen is if you refuse to allow it to. If you choose not to be open to it. It’s your choice, Sterling. And yours alone.”
I look into her eyes, a confession from the past teetering on the tip of my tongue.
Choice.
So much in life boils down to it.
I take another sip of brandy to prevent myself from speaking. When I know I can trust my own voice, I speak again.
“Tell me about you. Your family. Life in London.”
“Actually, I thought we could go over Juliette’s?—”
“I’d love for you to share it with me. You’re getting to know me. I’d like to know more about you too.”
She hesitates, and maybe she’ll put my interest down to reluctance to my upcoming date. But it’s not.
I just want to know more about her.
It’s both as simple and as complicated as that.
Her lashes flutter, and she bites her lip.
“Please, Hallie,” I breathe.
The name slips out so easily, as if it was always supposed to be what I call her.
Her brows shoot up before lines pinch the corners of her eyes as though she’s in pain.
I’ve overstepped.
“Forgive me, I?—”
“What do you want to know?” She captures me in her gaze, dark lashes fanning out over her cheeks with each blink.
And I’m damn mesmerized.
“Everything,” I rasp, unable to tear my eyes from her as she blushes. “Every little detail.”