earned his money in the last few months, that’s for sure,’ she quipped, then sighed again. ‘Gideon is preoccupied with this Russian deal. You occupy yourself with wrapping up your life in America. Leave everything else to me.’
‘For now, Aunt Flo. Understand that I won’t let this be for ever.’ I ended the call nowhere near satisfied by the outcome.
Waves of frustration, anger and guilt rolled over me, followed closely by the yawning pit of despair and shame that inevitably arrived with it. The black hole of unanswered questions didn’t erode the reality that I’d let myself down in the most spectacular way.
Two drinks that had turned into three, then four.
Then...total blackout.
Somewhere along the line that night, I’d let my guard down and trusted Penny Winston-Jones, Gideon’s ex-fiancée.
Only she hadn’t been his ex...
And in so doing had betrayed the one person who meant the most to me.
I gripped my phone tighter, the urge to go against Aunt Flo’s advice pummelling me. Only the reminder that she’d been there for me when my own parents abandoned me stopped me.
She would probably forgive me eventually if I went against her advice but could I afford to add another black mark against me?
I slid my phone back into my pocket just as Rachel, my executive assistant, knocked and entered.
‘Your next appointment is here, sir,’ she announced.
As the primary representative for The Mortimer Group, I’d freed myself from the everyday constraints of a single role to explore deals that would suit the family company. It was meant to be a temporary deviation from my usual role as President of Global Expansion so Jasper, my younger brother, could learn the ropes. The grand plan had been to eventually co-CEO the entire Mortimer Group with Gideon.
In the aftermath of Penny’s treachery, that idea had crashed and burned along with our relationship, resulting in this self-imposed, godforsaken exile. One I intended to end ASAP now my investigators had presented me with the near certain facts of what had happened to me that night.
Briefly, I toyed with cancelling the meeting, calling fuck it to the whole day and burning rubber out of Manhattan. I could head to the Hamptons, grab my surfboard and pound the waves until I was too tired to think. Or I could jump on my plane, head to Colorado, pick a mountain and climb it.
I rejected both ideas. Years of trying had shown the futility of attempting to outrun my demons. Staying right here, pursuing The Mortimer Group’s best interest, would at least bring a modicum of satisfaction.
So I nodded to Rachel. ‘Show him in.’
I’d be done here in another two or three weeks. A month, tops.
Then I intended to throw the gates of hell wide open and confront the devil.
Neve
The warehouse in the Meatpacking District in Manhattan where the latest series of Raider’s Den was being filmed had been decorated to resemble a pirate ship. Treasure chests with costume jewellery spilt out over red embroidered silk strategically placed around a wide rectangular platform on which were set six throne-like antique leather armchairs.
On the far side of the wall hung two banners with a matte black imprint of a skull and crossbones denoting the show’s name. The rest of the space was draped in blood-red curtains, cherry-oak tables and black, red and white spotlights.
The whole marauder vibe added dramatic tension to the show and even though I wanted to roll my eyes as my heels clicked on the hardwood plank from the audition area towards my designated seat, I had to grudgingly admit that the set designer had done a fabulous job. The scene was perfect. Enough to make me tingle.
Applicants who braved the plank to present their ideas had to bring their A games. The formidable panel wouldn’t be a walk in the park.
I’d arrived an hour early not just to stop the butterflies in my stomach from turning into crows, but also so as not to be wrong-footed in any aspect of this project.
But Damian was already there, seated in prime position in the centre, once again impeccably dressed in a bespoke three-piece suit, one ankle resting casually on his knee.
It would’ve been cheap and snarky to mock his need to project his presence but the chair could easily have been a minor accessory. It in no way detracted from his imposing presence.
He didn’t even need the spotlight poised above his head that would be activated when filming started. From producers to make-up artists to film crew, eyes flickered to him with the frequency of homing beacons.
He remained oblivious to all of it, his gaze on the document he perused.
My heels echoed louder the closer I got to him and he raised his head when I was a few feet away.
Intelligent, piercing hazel eyes flicked to me, dropped in a quick skim over my body before rising. ‘Neve. Glad you made it.’
I delivered a neutral smile. ‘And with a whole hour to spare.’
Long, capable fingers tapped his ankle as his eyes conducted another sweep over me. ‘The commute from out of town wasn’t horrendous, I hope?’
I wasn’t going to be impressed that he’d remembered my flagship resort was based in Westport, Connecticut. It hadn’t mattered an iota when he’d advised Malcolm Cahill to kill the affiliation deal without giving me a chance to argue my case for my business and home. ‘I’m staying in town this week. To avoid any unforeseen timing issues.’
One sleek eyebrow lifted at my chilled tone. ‘Am I still not forgiven for arriving at the meeting late?’
I shrugged. ‘Forgiveness, like trust, is earned.’
He paused for a long stretch. ‘The cameras aren’t rolling, Neve. No need to show your claws just yet. We’re all friends here.’
My stupid breath caught at how easily he said the words. How unnervingly sincere he sounded. How could I not have spotted this two years ago? Oh, yes. Lust completely blinded me. ‘This is all a game to you, isn’t it?’
He tensed. ‘Beg your pardon?’
I waved a hand around the room. ‘All this is one giant playground for you to roll around in, isn’t it? What do you do, get up in the morning and roll a dice and decide who you’re going to meddle with?’
Hazel eyes narrowed. ‘I’m sure I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.’
My hackles rose. ‘Of course you don’t. Must be hard to keep track of your games when you’ve been at it for as long as you have.’ My voice dripped with bitter acid.
His face grew tauter, his lips twisting with that unique mixture of amusement and cynicism. ‘I’m attempting to get back into your good graces but I see I’m wasting my time here.’
The utter
