hotel, in pristine condition—his last act as head of the company, future-proofing the jewel in the Faulkner Group crown for his sons.
His eyes narrow, his mouth thinning, as if by reminding him of his father’s wishes I’ve asked for double his original offer.
‘I know what’s best for my family and my company.’
I nod. ‘Yes. And I know what I discussed with Graham, and what he wanted.’
His eyes narrow but there’s respect and heat layered in his irises. ‘Quite spectacularly ruthless, aren’t you?’
The way he enunciates every word makes me acutely aware of my body, my every heartbeat and breath—who knew sparring with him would be so...invigorating? Now he’s thrown down the gauntlet, I can’t resist. I scoot closer.
‘You’re right—I’m not too shoddy at negotiations, and I know what I want.’ We’re so close, his glittering eyes haze out of focus. His warm breath gusts over my tingling lips, lips I’m aware are parted to emit the rapid pants of my fired-up breathing.
Time passes. A thrilling face-off neither of us seems to want to lose.
I want to kiss him. The thought slams into me from nowhere.
At that second the office door swings open, snapping our attention from our intense staring contest. Our heads swivel in unison to the new arrival, the swing of my ponytail glancing off the side of Reid’s face—that’s how close we were.
Graham Faulkner stands in the doorway, his face wreathed in a smile of welcome and recognition. ‘You two...’ He waggles his finger, an indulgent grin on his face. ‘Looking cosy.’
‘Dad.’ Reid jumps to his feet. ‘What are you doing here?’
I follow, grateful to emerge from the sexual fog.
‘I just popped in to collect a file.’ Graham raises his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Don’t let me interrupt you two lovebirds.’
My face flames. Is that how we appeared? Was our chemistry obvious to anyone with eyes, despite the face-off that was taking place? Adversaries, more like... But now Graham is here, we can clear up this mess.
Graham grips my shoulders and presses a kiss to my cheek, catching me off guard. Last time we met it was handshakes and professional praise, albeit layered with the warmth of our longstanding personal relationship.
Reid slides me a look and then winces. ‘No, Dad. This is—’
‘Sadie, good to see you again,’ says Graham, his smile warm. ‘I’m so looking forward to your engagement party.’
Sadie...? Reid’s ex-wife. Engagement party...?
I glance to Reid, my face draining of blood. ‘It...it’s good to see you again, Mr Faulkner,’ I say. What the hell is going on?
Reid looks ashen, his smile brittle for his father. ‘Dad...this is—’
‘Now, now, Sadie,’ Graham interrupts, ‘I’ve told you before—we’ll have none of that Mr Faulkner stuff. You’re going to be my daughter-in-law. Call me Graham.’ He hugs Reid and bustles back out of the room, muttering something about preparing for a meeting, which takes Reid’s complexion from pallid to waxy.
At the threshold Graham pauses and spins, pointing at Reid. ‘Bring Sadie for lunch on Sunday.’
‘But—’
‘I insist.’ Graham holds up a hand, silencing Reid’s protests. ‘I want to get to know your future wife better.’
Beside me, Reid stiffens.
I step up alongside him, close but not touching, offering solidarity for this bewildering conversation, which renders me both speechless and sets my stomach in knots.
Graham’s stare slides my way. ‘What do you say, my dear? Reid’s brothers will be there—it’s a family tradition.’
I smile, caught between rational and sympathetic responses. Graham Faulkner clearly has no idea who I am or how he knows me. No idea that he taught me to play chess as a girl or gave me business advice when I left university. My stomach turns—something is clearly very wrong. This isn’t the man I’ve known half of my life, a man my father considers a long-time friend, a man who has often treated me like the daughter he never had.
Reid’s tension is a force field of repressed energy. I shift on my feet, a tangle of responses blocking my throat. What do I say? Should I remind him who I am and run the risk of upsetting or embarrassing a man I have great respect for, or simply play along with his confusion?
At my baffled silence, Graham’s face drops, his bewildered eyes becoming glazed as they dip to the carpet.
‘Please, just go along with it,’ whispers Reid.
I swallow past my dry throat and nod. ‘Absolutely. I’d love to. Thank you, Mr Faulk—Graham.’
His beam knocks ten years off his age, and, no matter how worrying this turn of events and how weird Reid’s request, I’ve done the right thing.
‘Fantastic—it’s all arranged. See you Sunday.’ He leaves, his whistle echoing through the distant offices.
In his wake, a vacuum sucks all the air from the room.
I stand frozen to the spot beside Reid, my mind whirring over what just happened. Why did Reid ask me to go along with Graham’s misunderstanding? And what does all this—Graham’s obvious confusion—mean, not only for his health, but also for my contract to renovate the Faulkner? I flush at the selfishness of my thoughts, my gaze falling to the carpet. I’ve just spent so long picking up the scant pieces after Josh left, I’ve been counting on this contract to finally put a line under my past. To move forward, alone. Stronger. Independent.
Reid shifts beside me, looks down, wariness clouding his stare. ‘Thank you.’ His breath gusts from him in a long exhale, and I have the crazy urge to reach out and comfort him by touching his arm. But touching Reid Faulkner has always been forbidden.
‘What for?’ All I did was gape and smile and pretend I’m his ex-wife.
‘For playing along.’ He scrubs a hand over his face, his eyes suddenly tired, fires off a text and slips his phone into his pocket.
‘I... No problem.’ My mouth opens and closes, the words springing to mind inappropriate in the muddle of my mind. ‘Is Graham...is he okay?’ Reid and I have never shared confidences, given I’m closest in age to Kit, but Graham was always kind to me growing up, even encouraging my career dreams when my own family considered them an act of childish rebellion and mere frippery.
Reid turns to face me, shoulders back and hands slung in his pockets, wariness at the edges of his stare hinting at his vulnerability. ‘He will be,’ he says, shutting down the line of conversation.
Goose pimples prickle along my bare arms. What now? Do I walk away from my deal? Settle, again, for less than I deserve? Forget the contract I worked hard to secure when Graham Faulkner seemed to be a different man?
As
