35. KATE
35
KATE
I t’s been a few days since the night in Nico’s office. I’ve barely seen him because he’s been so busy. I don’t know how he’s able to work, because I have little brain power left to think about anything other than him.
He messages every day, at least twice. Sometimes it’s as few words as ‘ Morning, beautiful ’, but even that coming from Nico is enough to make my stomach flip like a pancake.
Today he sent one saying, My apartment. Nine tonight .
He never asks… everything is a demand. Apart from that one question, the smallest chink in his armor: Do you want me ?
Even recalling it now has my heart fluttering. As if there was ever any chance that I would have said no. But the fact that he asked …it’s enough to make a girl swoon, which is pretty much what I’ve been doing ever since.
“Hey, buddy.”
The speaker sounds so similar to Nico that I have to hold back from spinning in my desk chair and greeting him with a bursting smile. But I can’t feel Nico’s energy, or sense his presence. I’m so attuned to him, the fall of his footsteps, the unique quality of his voice, the words he chooses, that I know the man standing behind me isn’t Nico.
It’s close though.
I turn to find Seb Hawkston at the side of my desk. I’m about to query him calling me ‘buddy’, when Charlie’s clipped voice replies, “Uncle Seb. Am I staying with you again?”
Seb flashes a dashing smile. I can sense a slight movement around me, as if everyone in our vicinity is edging closer, just to be near him. Friendlier than Nico or Matt, but just as good looking, I can appreciate Seb’s appeal.
“Actually, yes.” Seb swings round, focusing on me rather than the teenager at the desk opposite. “Nico says he has some… things to take care of.” One of his eyebrows creeps upward. “Needs the space.”
My body inconveniently heats and I break eye contact. Fortunately, Charlie doesn’t notice.
“That flat is huge,” Charlie says. “I swear it has ten bedrooms. What does he need the space for? I’m not even very big. Tall, but skinny. My cubic volume is tiny.”
Seb snorts a laugh, then glances sideways at me. “Privacy.”
I can’t help but wonder if Nico has told his brother we’re sleeping together. I doubt it, especially after what he said about keeping things secret, but regardless, a fierce blush burns my cheeks. I duck my head, pretending to be focused on my computer screen. Spreadsheets have never been so interesting. Thankfully, my desk phone rings and I snatch it up. “Good morning, Kate Lansen speaking.”
“Kate, this is Martin Brooks.” The sound of his voice is like a ghost crossing my path, and a slight shiver goes through me. Nico might have said there was nothing to worry about, but Martin’s sudden reappearance is odd and something about it still doesn’t sit well with me. “How’s that spa project coming along?”
“Oh, hi. Fine,” I stammer. “Just fine.”
“Good. When are you free to meet? I’m in town today. Could you do lunch?”
I glance at my calendar. It’s clear. “Yes.”
“Great. I’ll meet you at Valerie’s on Bread Street. Not glamorous. A sandwich. I’m short on time.”
“All right. See you then.”
“And Kate?”
“Yes?”
“I’m looking forward to dealing with Lansen again.”
The phone goes dead and a sense of dread, the source of which I can’t pinpoint, slowly unfurls in my chest.
The little sandwich bar is crammed with people, and I squeeze my way inside. The smell of coffee assaults me as I look around. There are a handful of plastic tables and Martin Brooks sits at one of them, a half-eaten sandwich in one hand, leaving me confused about why he’s already started eating. Why didn’t he wait for me? What kind of client lunch is this?
He tips his fingers in a half-wave when he notices me.
I dodge the other customers and slide into the chair opposite him.
“Got you a sandwich,” he says, gesturing to the wrap on the table. “Chicken Caesar salad.”
I eye the wrap, tied up neatly in white greaseproof paper. I don’t touch it. “Thanks.”
“I gotta come clean,” he admits, and my heart dips. “When I heard the rumours Jack was selling Lansen to Hawkston, I wasn’t happy.”
His small, pale blue eyes are staring at me as though I’ve deeply offended him. An icy chill spreads through me.
“Oh,” I say. “Sorry to hear that.”
He huffs. “That was my deal.”
The comment throws me for a loop. He’s clearly intending to rake over old ground here.
“Dad was as disappointed as you were—”
His braying laugh cuts me off, and bits of half-chewed food spray from his mouth. A piece hits my cheek and I draw back, wiping my face with my fingers. I want to get away from this man, and not just because he’s spitting bits of his sandwich on my face.
“Oh, Little Kate…”
Little Kate . My chest pinches at the diminutive. It’s so similar to what Nico calls me that I can’t help but think of him. But Martin’s version is laced with so much condescension that I want to slap him.
“Still clueless?” Martin’s lips twist, alerting me to the fact he’s enjoying the power play of knowing something I don’t. “Your dad was the one who fucked it.”
Shock sparks through every nerve ending and I jerk away from him, my shoulder blades hitting the back of my chair. “What?”
He nods, then takes a large bite of his sandwich. He keeps his beady eyes on me as he chews, ruminating like a cow before finally swallowing. “Didn’t they tell you?” He watches me, his eyes moving over my face as though he’s desperate for me to react. When I don’t, he leans in and every muscle in my body tightens. “You don’t know, do you?”
“They?” I croak out, having no idea who he’s talking about.
“Your brother and Nico Hawkston.” My heart drops to my stomach as Martin takes another bite of his sandwich, and I pray to God he chokes because I’m certain I don’t want to hear whatever he’s going to say next. My palms get sweatier with every second he makes me wait. Eventually, he washes his mouthful down with a gulp of water. “Your father was a crook, Kate. Destroyed the company. Embezzled hundreds of thousands of pounds. Millions probably. Gambled it all away. Screwed me over.”
My breathing shallows. Nothing that’s coming out of his mouth makes sense. I blink at him.
“A criminal,” he repeats slowly, like I’m a child who can’t understand. He’s right. I can’t understand. I hear the words, but they mean nothing.
“He was lucky he didn’t end up behind bars, but I suppose he wouldn’t have lived long enough to see the inside of a cell, anyway. He got what he deserved, your dad. Better off dead, all things considered.”
Pain pierces my heart, like he’s thrusting daggers into my flesh and my hand jerks to my chest. Martin’s lips curve up as though he’s pleased to see me react. Like he’s feeding off it.
“Did you never wonder why Nico Hawkston didn’t pursue the acquisition all those years ago?” Martin continues. “Once they dug into the numbers, the entire pack of cards collapsed. Your dad couldn’t hide it. The deal didn’t stack up. He nearly lost your family home and everything in it, too.”
“I don’t believe you,” I hiss, relieved to have found my voice. “I would’ve known. Someone would have said something.”
“Would they?” He sits back, laying a hand on his stomach, where the buttons of his shirt strain over his girth. “You’re not as important as you think, are you? Little Kate, left behind, left out. The child who can’t be trusted with the truth.”
My hands are shaking. I clasp them tight in my lap. It can’t be true. It can’t . “What proof do you have?”
“By all means, don’t take my word for it. Ask your brother. Ask Nico Hawkston. Maybe one of them will finally tell Little Kate the truth. And you deserve the truth, don’t you, little one?”
“Stop calling me that.” I try to sound assertive, but my voice is weak.
Martin casually takes a bite of his sandwich like his words haven’t turned my world upside down. He watches me as he chews, and when I realise he’s offering nothing else, I speak.
“What do you want?”
He lowers the sandwich. “It’s been hard watching you and your brother thriving; getting the payout I ought to have had. I built that company alongside your father, you know? Seeing your brother taking all the glory for the sale… well, it makes me mad.” He taps the plastic tabletop with two swollen fingers that look like raw sausages wrapped in cellophane. “I’m finally taking what’s mine. I’m going to take your Knightsbridge spa project elsewhere. No more glory for Lansen or Hawkston if I can help it. Your involvement will be reduced to nil.”
My heart is racing, my throat feels like it’s swelling up, choking me, and each inhalation is harder than the last. “You can’t take the spa project,” I plead, and I loathe how pathetic I sound. How helpless. I’m sliding into the unknown and it’s terrifying. “What about David Webster? The Argentum board?”
“Oh, I’m not worried about any of that.” Martin dismisses my questions so easily that a chill runs down my spine. What could explain his lack of concern? “And if you do anything to try to prevent it, I’ll tell everyone about your father. He might be dead, but I’ll destroy anything that’s left. And while I’m there, I’ll take down your brother and Nico Hawkston for covering up your father’s crimes.”
My breaths come unevenly, my brain scrambled. I try to make sense of everything he’s told me, but I can’t, and judging from the way Martin is looking at me, he knows it.
Martin scrunches up a paper napkin and dabs his lips before throwing it onto the table. “How does it feel to be the daughter of a criminal, Kate? Seeing Daddy in a new light now, are we?” He stands. “I’ll let you digest.”
He leaves and I sit in stunned silence for a moment, the surrounding noises filtering out of my awareness until they’re an incoherent buzz I barely hear.
Then, I break. Tears rush like water over a dam. I can’t contain them, can’t hide them. I sob like I haven’t since Dad died. All the grief I pushed aside rushes up, and there’s more of it than I ever thought possible. I’m weeping for everything I’ve ever lost, and it’s ripping at my heart, tearing through my chest. I cry until I’m breathless, soaking my sleeves with the tears I don’t remember wiping away.
Martin Brooks tore a hole in my world and carelessly tossed me into another reality. And I don’t like this one at all. My father; the most wonderful man I’ve ever known. A thief? A criminal? Memories shatter and words I thought were true warp until I no longer recognise them.
Did Jack know?
And Nico…
The wave of pain that smashes into me shatters my heart into a million pieces as I realise that he’s lied to me this entire time.
Fury rises, burning like acid.
My phone buzzes and I pull it from my handbag to read the message.
Nico: There’s something we need to talk about. Tonight. I’ll explain later. Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal.
I stare at my phone, and two words come to mind.
You bastard .