42. KATE
42
KATE
I check my reflection in the mirror. My shirt is ironed, but my skirt is hanging off me. Apparently, if I don’t eat for a week, I shed weight fast. I’m in the ground floor bathrooms of the office. This is the first day I’ve been back, and my spa presentation is in less than ten minutes.
My heart is racing, and my nerves are reaching uncontrollable levels. I need to get in there and get this over with before I chicken out.
The door swings open and a woman enters, but it’s the voice that follows her in from outside that freezes me to the spot, barely able to draw breath.
“Why don’t you fucking have it? I need it now. Fuck’s sake, Elliot.”
Nico sounds furious, and he’s just outside.
I thought my heart was racing before, but now it’s hammering so fast, it could crack my ribs.
I’m not ready to come face to face with him.
I check my watch. The Knightsbridge spa meeting with Argentum starts in five minutes. I can’t stay in here and avoid him. I have a presentation to give.
“Fuck it, Elliot. This isn’t good enough. I promised—”
I exit the bathroom and Nico’s voice cuts short. He stares at me, eyes wild. He looks out of control. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, which I’ve never seen him do in the office. He’s normally so composed that the sight of him disheveled chills me.
“I’ve got to go,” he barks into the phone. “Call me when you have it. I’m waiting.”
He shoves his phone in his pocket and looks at me like he’s about to say something, but the tension in his jaw, the rage in his eyes, doesn’t look inviting. Whatever’s up with him, I don’t want anything to do with it. I walk past before he can speak.
“Kate, wait.”
My heart lurches and I turn back to face him. “What?”
His gaze darts all over me before settling on my eyes. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
Nico Hawkston, speechless ?
“I’m already nervous, Nico. You’re making it worse.”
He rubs his palm over the back of his neck, blowing air from inflated cheeks as though he’s taking a moment to gather his thoughts. When he speaks, I’m sure it’s not what he originally intended to say. “Good luck.”
Unease slithers through me, but I don’t have time to question it. I turn away and cross the lobby, entering the meeting room before I lose my nerve.
Inside, the chairs are arranged in rows. I take my place at the podium at the front and look out at the audience. Everyone at both Lansen and Hawkston who’s ever worked on the Knightsbridge spa project with me, is here. Matt and Seb sit in the front row. Even Charlie is here. He meets my eye and smiles, giving me a subtle thumbs up. It’s such a childish gesture, and his expression full of genuine encouragement, that I feel a flush of warmth towards him.
David Webster is also in the front row, beside Martin Brooks. Martin sits with his hands clasped over his belly, and eyes me with a horrid self-satisfied smirk that makes my skin itch. I don’t know when he’s planning on instigating his new plan, but if I don’t want him to start shouting about Dad, or Nico and Jack, then I need to pretend everything’s fine.
Nico has this in hand. He’ll make sure the project is yours, I swear it. He knows what it means to you.
Jack’s words spark in my mind, but they don’t reassure me. The Nico I just saw outside the bathroom didn’t look like he had anything in hand. He still hasn’t followed me. Is he coming to this meeting? I don’t know if his presence would make it better or worse, but the tiny flame of hope that he’ll be here is fading.
The audience quietens down as I introduce the project.
Applause ripples through the room and the lights fade so my slides can be seen more clearly on the screen.
I’ve barely opened my mouth to speak again when the door opens. Nico slides in, bows his head at me, and takes the empty seat next to his brothers. He’s rolled his sleeves back down, and the gold cufflinks are back in place at the wrists. It’s marginally better than before, but he still looks like a man who’s been stretched way too thin.
My heart rate ramps up, and suddenly I feel like I’m presenting for something much more important than a development project.
Our eyes meet in the semi-light, and his gaze touches my skin like an electric current. All his attention is on me, and he sits upright in his seat. He doesn’t smile, nor does his expression reveal any emotion.
Does he really have this all in hand? Can he guarantee the project is mine?
I desperately want it to be true. I want Nico to have my back. I want him to protect me.
I want him to care.
I want to be able to trust him.
My mouth is dry, and I lift the water glass from the podium and gulp down half the contents.
And then I begin, performing as though my life is on the line. There’s no one else who knows this project as well as I do, except perhaps Nico himself.
When it’s finally time to stop, the applause is polite but enthusiastic.
“Thank you,” I say. “And now I’d like to welcome David Webster, Managing Director of Argentum.”
David gets out of his chair and paces towards me. His jaw is clenched, a marked frown deepening the wrinkles between his brows. I shake his hand, but he doesn’t meet my gaze.
Something’s not right.
He takes his place at the podium as I sink onto a nearby chair.
“This project has a key place in my heart,” he begins. “I’ve been on the team since its inception, working with Lansen in the early days. I confess when Gerard Lansen, Kate’s father, and Martin Brooks”—he gestures to Martin, who lifts his hand in a lazy wave—“originally proposed this idea to me, I wasn’t convinced it had legs. But Kate’s unceasing enthusiasm has shown me that this is a project to stand behind. Argentum has aspirations to open four sites across the UK, targeting Knightsbridge first. After that we’ll open in the East End, Edinburgh and York. It’s ambitious, but exciting.”
He wipes his brow and takes a shaking breath. “It is, therefore, with a heavy heart that I must tell you that we have made the decision not to progress the project with the Lansen-Hawkston team.”
Restless movement ripples through the audience. Murmurs begin, and confused expressions spread like a virus. What the fuck? My stomach plunges through the floor and my legs feel wobbly. Did David just cancel the project? Is this really happening?
I expected him to announce he was stepping down, not that the whole project was off. I anticipated it from Martin… but David? And what about Nico?
He’ll make sure the project is yours.
Another fucking lie.
Betrayal and anger swell within me until it feels like my chest might burst, and tears stab behind my eyes.
I glance at Martin and there’s a sparkle of amusement in his gaze like he’s enjoying this, and I have to swallow around the lump that’s forming in my throat. I scan the crowd for Jack, who lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug and shakes his head, like he doesn’t have a clue what’s happening either. I don’t dare look at Nico, for fear that if I do, the tears that are pricking at my eyes will leak out.
David clears his throat and continues as if the entire room isn’t reeling in shock. “Martin Brooks will be leading us as we search for a new partner. And in order to provide you all with some form of closure, he’s going to speak to you now.”
David slopes down from the podium, sinking into his seat. He looks dejected, defeated; an unfamiliar look for him.
An oily smile ripples across Martin’s mouth as he takes David’s spot at the front. “I’m deeply honoured to take over this project. It was, after all, my idea in the first place.” He shoots a vicious look in my direction as if I’m the one who stole it from him .
“I’ve had to make some hard decisions. The first, and most important, is to dissolve the partnership with Hawkston. It is my belief that Hawkston is reaching beyond its area of expertise. There is a huge difference between a boutique spa and a large global corporate hotel chain, and Hawkston is not the right partner for Argentum.” Martin presses a hand to his heart and an expression of sympathy so false that I want to throw up spreads over his face. “We take this moment to thank all of you for your hard work, and wish you the best for the future.”
Martin takes a little bow and nods at the rest of the Argentum board members, including David, who all rise to their feet.
It’s over. The whole fucking thing is over.
There’s a brief moment of stunned silence from the Hawkston employees, but when it’s clear there is no second act, they get up, clutching folders and notepads, whispering and casting uneasy glances at each other on their way to the exit.
I chase after David, grab his elbow, and pull him to face me. “What happened? I thought you wanted us to do this together?”
He meets my eye, compassion in his gaze as he says, “I’m sorry, Kate. There was nothing I could do.” His voice is so raw it scrapes at my insides and I know he genuinely means it. “It was out of my hands.”
“But your position on the board—doesn’t that count for something?”
David shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Some of the members weren’t happy with the Hawkston takeover of Lansen. They thought we’d lose control of the project.”
“Webster.” Martin calls. “Let’s go.”
David winces at the sound, clasping my hand. “I’m sorry, Kate.” He moves off, leaving me alone in the centre of the room.
I drop into one of the empty seats, trying to absorb what’s just happened. Since Martin approached me in the cafe, I knew this was what he intended. But when Jack called and said I needed to do this presentation, I really thought I had a chance. I believed him. I believed him because he said Nico was going to sort it…
Anger rises in my chest, but beneath it my heart breaks afresh because yet again Nico hasn’t protected me. I place a hand over my ribs like I can contain the splintering agony beneath. Behind me, the door clicks open. I know it’s Nico before I see him. I recognise the way he walks, the pattern of his footfall. Or perhaps it’s some sixth sense; some part of his energy reaching out and touching mine before he even comes into view.
“Kate?”
I stand, twisting towards the door. Before I can tell him not to come near me, he’s closing the space between us. I hold up my hands and he halts just out of reach.
“My project…” The words contain so much pain.
“I know,” he says. “I’m so sorry.” He sounds sincere, but it’s not enough.
“Jack said we had a chance to save it. That you had it in hand. He said you’d make sure the project was mine.” I tear both hands through my hair and a noise that sounds disturbingly like a sob escapes my throat. “What the fuck, Nico?”
His handsome face screws up and he reaches for me, but I step back and his hand falls to his side. “I will fix this,” he tells me. “I just haven’t yet.”
“You could have stopped me,” I say, desperate. “Before the presentation. I knew there was something wrong with you. But you didn’t say anything. You knew what this project meant to me and you let me go out there and stand up in front of everyone…”
“And you did a brilliant job.”
His arms are suddenly around me, holding so tight I can barely wriggle. I want to sink into his embrace, to be held, to let him soothe all of this away.
“I will sort this out,” he whispers against my hair.
“It’s too late,” I reply, sobs rising up my throat now. “Too fucking late.” I push away and stare up at him, that splintering ache inside almost breaking me.
Nico blinks, breathing rapidly through flared nostrils. His dark eyes burn with an emotion so intense it sears me to my core. My thoughts are swirling out of control. Part of me wants him to grab me, to force me to relinquish the anger that holds us apart. To make it all fucking disappear. Another part of me wants to slap him, to strike my palm against his cheek and feel it sting. But I won’t do that. I refuse to lose my temper over this man again.
His phone rings, and he holds my gaze for a few tones before he pulls it from his pocket.
“You should take it,” I tell him.
He cancels the call. “We’re not done here.”
I bristle. “You do not get to choose when this is over.”
“Kate—”
I hold up a palm. “Please, go away. Leave me the fuck alone.”
He stares like he can’t believe what I’ve just said. The air strains with tension. I’m about to walk away when his phone rings again.
He drags his next inhalation, only breaking eye contact to check the screen. Without a word, he puts the phone to his ear and leaves the room.