The Other Side of Greed

by Lily Zante

  I need to get through to her, and I am determined that it is today. This can’t fester any longer.

  The clock ticks, tension ratcheting up by the second. When Fredrich leaves, I snatch my chance. Kyra hasn’t looked my way once. She hasn’t spoken properly to me in days. I clear my throat.

  “Long day, huh?”

  She glances at me for one second, before tapping on her keyboard, her eyes fixated on her screen.

  I take my cue, and my courage, wondering how the tables have turned and our roles have switched. How is it that I’m the one being anxious around her? I never used to care whether I had upset someone before.

  “I’ve booked dinner.”

  Her brows push together, the first indication I have that she’s not as calm as she’s making out.

  “For us,” I add.

  This earns me an icy stare. “You booked dinner? For us?” she spits out, as if I’ve presented her with a search warrant.

  “I want to make it up to you, after the last time … I have things I need to tell you.”

  “You want to take me out to dinner to make up for it?”

  “You know I do. Give me a chance to explain.”

  “Ecuador,” she volleys at me.

  I quirk a brow. “What about it?”

  “You told me that you helped out on some community projects in El Salvador when I first interviewed you, and when I asked you yesterday, you said it was Ecuador.”

  I scoff, then shrug for added nonchalance. I had a feeling I might have messed up. That was sneaky of her to ask me again, but I would have done the same thing if I had been in her shoes and some slimy son of a bitch had turned up at my company. I would have had a private detective shadowing her by now.

  She’s gone easy on me. “So?” I feign indignance. “It’s an easy enough mistake to make.”

  “They’re two different places more than a thousand miles apart.”

  “My friend is in the hospital, these last few weeks haven’t been easy, you and I have been on a rollercoaster journey, and you’re picking on me because I said the wrong country name?”

  She blinks, clearly not expecting this reply from me. Emboldened, I spew more of my pity.

  “Do you know how hard it’s been for me?”

  She’s about to frown again, but I’ve done the Jedi mind trick and turned it around. She’s now questioning her logic and it takes the attention off me, but I feel wretched for being such a snake.

  “Are you married?” she throws back.

  The absurdity of this makes me chuckle. “Married? No. Is that what you think?”

  “I don’t have anything else to go on, given your scheming and lying. You’re not who you claim you are.”

  “I know you have questions, Kyra. I want to give you answers. That’s why I booked dinner. It’s not to wine and dine you, it’s to get out of here and have somewhere to talk, someplace civil where you can’t shout and scream at me.”

  “You think I’d just happily trot off to have dinner with you? After what you did?” Her face flushes, as her voice and temper rise.

  She scans the door, catching herself. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you. The last thing I want to do is to sit down and have dinner with you. I would rather choke.”

  I walk over to her desk. “I’m not married, and I’m not seeing anyone. I haven’t been married before and I have no exes lurking in the background.”

  The lines on her forehead relax, but her narrowed eyes still regard me with the suspicion I deserve. My intentions are always to tell her. But when she looks at me, through me, inside me, the way she does now, delving deeper and deeper into my psyche, I balk. Because when she knows, she will never want to talk to me again.

  “Then why do you jump every time Emma needs you?”

  I can’t answer that question, but maybe I can get rid of her suspicions. I grab her hand. “Come with me.” I hold out my hand.

  “I don’t want to go to dinner with you.”

  “It’s not dinner. I need you to meet someone.” What I’m doing is bold, and wrong, for Emma, but it’s time I did the right thing by Kyra. “I want you to meet Emma.” I hate to throw this on her, and the only reason I’m pushing for it is because Emma suggested it. It should at least convince Kyra that I am not a love cheat.

  I expect her to say no, but when she says, “Okay,” I have no choice but to keep my word.

  KYRA

  * * *

  It’s not right, him asking me to go to the hospital with him to meet this ‘Emma’, so that he can prove that she is not his girlfriend. I feel as if I almost know this woman, because we’ve talked about her more than a few times and I know a lot about her. She probably knows nothing about me.

  I should have declined his invitation, but I’m not sure I know who Brad is, and going along with his suggestion is the only way that I will come to know the truth.

  He drives us to the hospital. The car ride is fraught with tension as thick and as heavy as the steam in a sauna turned up too high.

  We have been on a rollercoaster ride. Embarrassment and shame have blanketed these last few times I’ve had to face him at work. This evening will put an end to my suspicions.

  I hope.

  As we make our way up in the elevator, my breath hitches in my throat. This is wrong. So very wrong. This woman has been in a really bad car accident. A near-fatal accident, and Brad is taking me, a complete stranger, to meet her.

  We’ve come this far, and I’m tempted to say ‘Stop!’ This is enough. I believe him already. It must be true. She’s here and recovering, and she’s not his lover. He is single, and he isn’t the monster I’ve made him out to be.

  I’m about to tell him that we don’t have to do this, when the elevator doors open and he strides out with me in tow.

  I follow him, then take a step back when he talks to the nurses at the reception desk. They seem to know him, which fills me with confidence. This isn’t a trick. He isn’t lying. He’s not hiding anything. This is enough.

  “Come on,” he says when I stand there, debating on this insane turn of events. I hesitate, but only for a few seconds, then follow him. He stops by a door, looks through the window and knocks. My anxiety soars, and my heartbeat spikes.

  “Are you… are you sure about this?” I manage to say. My mouth is dry, and I’m left wondering about the stupidity of this.

  “You think I’m with her. This is the only way I can prove to you I’m not.”

  The way he says it places the blame on me. Like I’m the one who is demanding this. He opens the door, and I see a woman sitting in bed. She looks as surprised as I feel.

  “Hello, Emma. I’m really sorry to show up like this, but this is Kyra.”

  BRANDON

  * * *

  Shame curls in my gut. This situation is absurd—like something out of a Tarantino movie. It’s almost funny. I smother the guilt which rises like a phoenix from the pit of my stomach.

  Emma looks shocked, but her eyes soon go to Kyra, who is standing timidly by my side. “Oh,” she says.

  “We won’t stay for long. Sorry.” I make an apologetic face. I will explain everything to her properly later, but her searching look sees through me. I introduce the two women, being extra careful to tell Kyra that Emma is a dear friend.

  Surely Kyra won’t have any questions after this. Surely this will suffice? Kyra looks uneasy. I can see it in the way she is standing, hovering by Emma’s bed. It’s surreal to watch and I feel awkward as I ask Emma how she’s feeling, then ask about her family. We make small talk about Emma’s recovery, and she tells us that she’ll be able to leave the hospital soon, then tells us about the physical therapy she has to undergo.

  She looks a lot better lately, and tells me that she is walking around more, and the pain of her injuries is lessening.

  When Kyra steps out to take a phone call, Emma gives me a look that makes my insides shrivel.

  “I’m a shitbag, I know.” I exhale, because I don’t k
now where to begin, and I don’t have time, and Kyra is just outside. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ask this if—”

  “You’re sleeping with her.” Her voice is thick with disappointment. It’s not even a question, but stated like a fact.

  “No.” I meet her gaze.

  “Something is obviously going on.”

  “I’m not … sleeping with her.”

  She doesn’t seem to believe me. Wise woman. “You set out to deceive this woman. Even you should know when to stop,” she hisses.

  “About that … I’m going to set things right.”

  She struggles to sit up, and I help her, adjusting the pillow slightly. “Is this setting things right?”

  “She thought I was married, or that you and I were … you did say I could bring her here.”

  The silence is deafening.

  “Obviously, you didn’t think it would come to that,” I say, realizing now how misguided my actions are.

  “Sorry about that.” Kyra returns, looking sheepish. She smiles at Emma. “I’m so sorry about showing up here like this. It’s my fault.”

  “It’s perfectly fine.” Emma is all smiles. The two women seem genuinely friendly towards one another and I feel like an extra on a show.

  “We should go. I’m sorry that this happened at all, but Brad and I were talking and …” Kyra looks to me to help her out, as if she doesn’t know how to explain her sudden appearance here.

  “It’s not a problem. I like having visitors. Being on my own isn’t much fun.”

  “It’s great that you’ll be able to go home soon,” says Kyra. “Good luck with the physio.”

  I raise my hand at Emma, steering clear of words. She’s furious with me, and rightly so. Once more, this was all about me. My desire to prove that I am not a cheat or involved with Emma. That’s all I thought about, and wanting to set the record straight with Kyra, but if I were brave enough, I could have set the record straight by telling her the whole goddamn truth.

  But to do that, I will have to go back to the beginning, to tell her who I really am, and that’s something I’m not ready to do.

  Chapter Forty

  KYRA

  * * *

  We walk back to his car silently. After a while, he asks, “Do you believe me now?”

  He was obviously desperate to prove it to me. I don’t know this woman from the next stranger, and here I am, intruding in her personal space, at the hospital of all places. And this after her traumatic car crash.

  The cynic in me rises to the fore. I can’t trust anyone enough to get close to them, and maybe this is what it takes. I should give the guy a break. I should let this go and allow myself to open up to someone again.

  “Thank you for doing that. I shouldn’t have asked you to go this far.”

  “This far?” He quirks an eyebrow. “You have doubts about me, Kyra, and I don’t blame you. There are many things unexplained; things you probably wonder about. The last thing I wanted was for you to think I was a cheat.”

  He leans against the car, arms folded as if he’s not ready to get in until we’ve sorted this out. I let out a shaky breath. I’m lucky to have someone like Brad, someone who went to such lengths to prove to me that he isn’t a cheat.

  He seems like the type of man who would move mountains for me, and maybe, for once, I should let myself enjoy the moment. Taking his hand, I tiptoe up and kiss him, missing his lips intentionally and placing a kiss just to the right of his mouth.

  “Is that all I get?” He tugs my hand and pulls me towards him. This time, he lowers his head and plants a kiss on my lips. It’s chaste by comparison to the way he’s kissed me before—all hot and heavy and needy. My insides still heat at the memories of the last time we’d kissed and, as if they remember, the cells in my body jump to attention. I kiss him back, sliding my tongue between his lips, putting my arms around his neck. Just as we begin to deepen the kiss, he slowly moves my arms away, then slides his hands down to hold mine. He breaks our kiss. “Does this mean we’re back?”

  “Back to what? I don’t want to sneak around anymore.”

  “Me neither.” He strokes my face, and my skin tingles at his touch, a reminder of where we had last left things. “I want to do something nice for you.”

  “Something nice?” Surprise makes me smile. “This is nice.”

  “This?” His eyes grow round. “Being nice to you, kissing you, is nice?”

  “Yes.”

  “He must have really hurt you,” he says, quiet as a mouse.

  I muster a brave smile. I have tried to hold back and keep my distance from this man, but it seems as if Brad Hartley and I can’t keep apart. I lean my face towards his stroking finger.

  “It rips you up, tears you down. Makes you think you’re worthless. That’s why I’m just extra cautious now.”

  He nods, understanding heavy in his eyes as he pulls me into him and holds me. We have gone from zero to one hundred. He wants me, but he seems to be in a contemplative mood again. I can’t read the expression on his face, and I can’t gauge his thoughts. But he holds me tight, and I lean against him because, after a long time of putting up my walls, I’ve finally find the courage to trust again.

  * * *

  BRANDON

  * * *

  We go our separate ways. She might think I have cooled off and wonder why we’re not continuing on from where we left off, but I can’t go into this being Brad Hartley, the guy who has lied to her about everything.

  I want to show her the real me, but who is the real me?

  Am I Brandon Hawks, the man who wants Greenways? Or am I Brandon Clements—a poor neglected and unwanted child?

  I still want Kyra, but I want to also do things properly. It means I’ll have to reveal everything slowly. Bit by bit, and only the parts I am comfortable for her to know about.

  Chapter Forty-One

  KYRA

  * * *

  We revert back to normal at work, but we no longer sneak around in the storeroom like before. There is a more steadied attraction between us. It is evenly keeled. I trust Brad, and even though he still remains a mostly closed book to me, he has hinted that he will tell me in his own time. I will wait.

  On the next food night, we work as usual, and then clear up at the end. As we’re finishing up in the storeroom, Brad is pensive again and I find myself worrying about him.

  He catches me staring. “You always seem on a downer after these nights,” I say. He doesn’t say anything. I reach forward and put my hands on his chest. “You’re not supposed to feel sorry for anyone. You’re supposed to feel good. Remember, the work we do here helps people like these to get back onto their feet.”

  “You’re doing all the good things.”

  “It’s what I love, and that’s why I am so eager to expand. Redhill is thriving and we need more people, which is why I need more premises.”

  “How was the committee meeting the other day?”

  “We had the usual complaints from the city officials.”

  “What complaints?”

  I tell him. “But now I’m starting to think that your advice is the right advice,” I say. “Maybe we should move elsewhere, to bigger premises, instead of trying to make this higgledy-piggledy plot of land work.”

  His face twists. “Don’t listen to me.”

  “Why not? You have a good business head on your shoulders and being around you has made me see things from another perspective.”

  “You should go with your gut, Kyra. You told me you wanted to stay here. You said this area was starting to turn around and you got this factory at a good price.”

  “This factory which now needs a roof to be fixed as well as a long list of items, and that’s just in this building. How will I expand? Buy one of the other buildings?”

  “Wasn’t that your plan?” he asks, confusing me further. “To stay here and fix everything.”

  “But you told me to think about—”

  “You shouldn’t listen to
me.”

  I squint in confusion. “But I do. I’ve been thinking about what you said and it makes sense.”

  He frames my face with his hands then brings his head lower so that we are touching foreheads. “Don’t let me sway you. Do what you feel is the right thing.” Then he kisses me, so-so-slowly that it feels as if my feet have lifted from the floor. “I want to take you out.” His hands slide around my waist, then lower to my bottom which he squeezes gently. Past reminders coil and twist in my gut. If I’m not careful, he’ll have his fingers inside me again. I press against him.

  “Take me out, where?”

  “Somewhere nice. It’s about time we went on a proper date,” he replies. His hands keep sliding around my hips then lower, then back up again as if he’s caught in a battle of the wills between the Sweet Saint and the Dirty Devil.

  “We skipped all the dating niceties,” I whisper, tugging at his earlobe gently. Breathing in his cologne sends the blood pumping through me. “Come back to my place …” I plead.

  “Tempting,” he murmurs, his voice low, his lips teasing my neck. I grind my hips into him, wanting more, more, more. This teasing and flirting has gone on for too long.

  We kiss again, and I groan against his mouth as the force of his hardness presses into me reminding me of what he denied me the last time.

  He pulls away quickly, then takes a step away, as if he needs to get away from me because he can’t trust himself.

  “Keep the weekend free for me.”

  “What?”

  “The weekend, keep it free.”