by Louise Bay
“But no one knows those systems and—”
“No one’s going to run that department like you would. You have to accept that.”
“Yes, but if I delegate the fundraising piece to people who would be better at it, the whole thing won’t collapse in five months just because Mason and—”
“Are you prepared to take that risk? Put everything you, Abi, and your mother worked for on the line because you would prefer to hide behind your computer or be at home with a book? Make those kids at the rehab center suffer because you can’t be bothered to go and buy some new clothes?”
She stared at her toes, finally out of excuses. I’d gone too far and I knew it. This wasn’t my business. I had no stake in the Harbury Foundation. I should have left it, but I knew what those kids were going through. I knew how easy it would be for them to give up.
I could almost hear her heartbeat racing as her anxiety built.
“You know the perfect solution is staring you both in the face,” Rob said. “Noah, you should help her.”
“What?” Truly and I said in unison.
“It’s perfect. You don’t have anything to do at the moment.” He raised his palm when I began to refute his statement. “I mean, it’s not like you’re running a business or trying to make something work. You have more free time than usual.”
I couldn’t argue with that, but it was hardly like I spent my days in bed watching soaps. I had a series of flying lessons planned, skydiving, and now that I’d recruited an assistant, I was going to start looking for office space.
“You’ve earned all this money. This would be a way of you giving back. Instead of writing a big check, you could actually do something. Be her consultant. You’ve done the schmoozing thing. You know how big business works—you know what the donors will be thinking and what will make them donate. Coach her a little.”
“Truly can cope on her own; she just doesn’t want to.” Why was I giving her such a hard time about this? I should just relax, enjoy my beer, and leave her to get it together. Or not. “She doesn’t need me.” I glanced over at Truly to take in her reaction.
“You’re right. I can cope,” she said, but the worry skating across her eyes said differently. “Thank you for the business advice. I appreciate it.” Her words wobbled as she finished her sentence.
“You’re going to be fine,” I assured her. “You’ve just had a lot to think about. I’m sorry to lay into you like that. I was being a twat. And so was Rob.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she said, breaking our gaze and glancing over at voices coming from the hallway.
I got to my feet and realized Rob was with someone. Shit, the hairdresser. “Are you ready?” I asked Truly.
“Yes, it’s good. I need a haircut. And a personality transplant. So, if you could just dial up one of your New York contacts and arrange that, I’d be very grateful.” She gave me a small smile and I chuckled.
I wished I could help her. The foundation’s plan for the rehab center was admirable and those kids needed the help, and I didn’t like seeing Truly so out of her depth. It wasn’t who she was. Shouldn’t I help if I could? Rob suggesting that I accompany her to functions wasn’t so ridiculous. We’d once been good friends. And anyway, this was business, the best for the foundation. Twenty weeks would pass in a blur, and I’d be giving kids the opportunity that I was once given.
How could I say no?
NINE
Truly
What Noah had said the night before was right—big donors wanted to feel special, to deal with someone with the Harbury name. He just didn’t know how difficult it would be for me, how anxiety-inducing it was. I’d almost slipped into a panic attack, but the hairdresser arriving had distracted me just in time. I hadn’t had an attack in years—not since my short-lived membership of the debate society at university. Even now I was having to concentrate on my breathing. I knew sending Kelly or Mason was potentially destructive, but fear bubbled to the surface every time I thought about having to do what my beautiful, charming sister did so effortlessly. I wasn’t her. I’d never be her. I played to my strengths, which were few and far between. Abigail played to hers, and she could do almost everything.
And the idea of turning my team over to someone else? I hated the thought. The likelihood was that I’d fail at schmoozing donors and the back-office departments I was in charge of would collapse. Abigail would come back, and I’d have burned the place to the ground.
I couldn’t help it, my breathing became choppy and uneven and I pushed my chair out from my desk and leaned forward, resting my head between my knees. I had just about managed to get through lunch today. But presentations? Galas? Lunches and dinners with more people? Disaster was lurking behind every corner.
My phone buzzed and I ignored it. I needed a moment.
I tried to pull in a breath for three counts like I’d seen in films.
In, two, three, out, two. Shit. I tried again. In, two, three, out, two, three. It wasn’t helping. My heart was hammering against my chest, my palms were sweaty, and images of hundreds and hundreds of faces staring at me flashed into my head.
I ignored the knock on my office door. I was too concerned about what was happening to me. Was it possible to have a heart attack at twenty-eight?
“Truly,” a familiar, male voice called.
I couldn’t look up. Couldn’t even open my eyes.
Warm hands covered my knees and body heat radiated in front of me. “Are you okay? Take a breath.”
What was Noah doing here?
I nodded, still counting my breath. As if he was familiar with the technique, he began counting along with me. “Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three.”
His voice was calming. The counting hadn’t worked when I’d done it alone, but hearing him counting too helped me settle into a rhythm.
Eventually, his hands slid from my knees, and I sat up and opened my eyes, right into his.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
I was such an idiot. A mess. And this was why Noah and I had only ever been friends. He was used to seeing me in no makeup with a smear of kung pao chicken on my face. And now I was panicking about a meeting that he would think nothing of. Yes, Noah only ever saw me at my absolute worst.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I didn’t want him to see me like this.
“Do you want some water?” He stood and poured me a glass of sparkling water from the bottle on my desk.
“Thanks.” I took a sip and sat back in my chair.
“I came to talk to you. Apologize if I seemed harsh last night. I’m sorry if I made this worse, Truly.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m fine. Just a little . . .” I watched as he slid into the chair opposite my desk, his long legs unfurling in front of him. “I just have a lot to do.”
He nodded, steepling his fingers. “And I’m here to help.”
I stared over his shoulder, trying to figure out how to respond. I thought he might forget about Rob’s suggestion of being my personal consultant. At least I was hoping he would. The last thing I wanted was to be forced to spend time with someone who I found impossibly attractive. “I’ll be fine. I just need to adjust.”
“I totally agree,” he said.
“Oh. Well, that’s settled. Thank you for your offer.”
“But until you are fine, until you adjust, perhaps I could help.”
I groaned. “That’s really nice of you, Noah, but Rob shouldn’t have asked you—this isn’t your problem.”
“Rob wasn’t wrong. I do have a little more time than usual as I ramp up my next project, so I have the capacity to do this.”
“I don’t know what you think ‘this’ is, but we have it handled. It’s all going to be fine.” Perhaps one of the girls in the office could help me with clothes for future events. And although I was sure Noah would be helpful in lots of circumstances, I didn’t want to spend any more time with him than absolutely necessary. I was a grown w
oman. I didn’t have time for crushes.
“Truly, I just walked in to find you having a panic attack. Please—let me help you.”
As much as I wanted to say yes, I didn’t want to fall for him all over again, knowing I would only ever be a friend to him. It was too painful. Too much of a reminder that I would never be enough. I’d always be the less pretty, the less charming, the less loveable twin. “It’s really nice of you to offer but really, you—”
“I can come to some of the meetings where you don’t know the donors, help you work on your presentations, attend the dinners with you. Just until you feel more confident.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. And anyway, since when are you the guru when it comes to charitable foundations?”
He blew out a breath. “Okay. Cards on the table. I’m not really giving you a choice. I’m going to help you and you need to get used to the idea. Remember, I know how business people think. I’ve done thousands of corporate presentations, dinners, and lunches. I know the rules. Understand how to play the game. And if I don’t have any other credentials, I’ve at least proven I can calm you down.”
“What do you mean, you’re not giving me a choice?”
He stood. “I can work from Abigail’s office, I presume? And I’ll need an assistant.”
This time I stood up. “Hey, wait a minute, you can’t just come in here and . . . You’re not the boss around here.”
He raised a single eyebrow. “But someone needs to be, so I suggest you step up, stop being so stubborn, accept my help, and let’s get on with the job.”
My heart was beating through my chest. I rarely saw this side of Noah. He was usually so laid back and affable. I guess this was him in work mode and it was . . . kinda hot.
“I have a tendency to want to . . . fix things,” Noah said, thrusting his hands in his pockets. “And seeing those kids at the rehab center? It just brought back some stuff. I need to do my best for them, Truly.”
Shit, of course, his accident would make the rehab center’s funding so personal for him. I rounded my desk until we stood just a foot apart, tilted my head up, and our eyes met.
“I’d not made the connection. Were you at the same hospital?” I asked.
He nodded, looking away. “I don’t like to dwell on the past. You know, besides Rob, you are the only person I’ve ever talked with about the accident who wasn’t around at the time. But, I don’t know, this feels like I would be doing something positive for the future. It feels right.”
How could I possibly not let him help if that’s what he wanted to do? He needed this. The center needed him. Turning him down would be selfish. I’d just have to visualize someone else when I looked at him—Ricky Gervais or Steve Buscemi instead of the blond-haired, blue-eyed, six-foot Viking in front of me. “I’m sorry. I’m being an idiot. It would be good to have you help.”
When the chips were down, those kids should be the only thing that mattered. Noah was more comfortable charming people and making small talk than I was, and he was good at calming me down. “It’s business. Right?” I needed to see things in a different way. Use him for my own ends. Squeeze out all his knowledge and know-how. Not focus on his hard abs or the way he could make me laugh, calm me down, make me cry.
TEN
Noah
Truly shifted from one foot to the other in the boardroom of the foundation, and she craned her neck to see the screen behind her.
“No, don’t look behind you. Look at the people in front of you. You’re the one they have to buy into.” We were about twenty minutes into our presentation prep, and the look in Truly’s eyes suggested she already wanted to kill me. She’d get over it.
It was good to have a focus, a goal, my teeth buried in something I believed in.
“It’s too much to remember. The screen, the clicker, what I’m saying.” She slumped into her seat and tossed the remote across the table.
“You’re right. This isn’t working.”
She gave me the side-eye.
“I mean it. I want to change things up. We don’t need to turn you into Abigail, just a version of yourself that’s the most attractive to donors.” It was up to me to show her how to be her best and convince her that was more than enough.
She rolled her eyes. “You want me to show them my boobs?”
I chuckled.
“I swear, I’ll do it. It’s a whole lot easier than remembering all this stuff that I’m not good at.”
“As much as I’m sure you have very nice boobs, I’m not sure that’s the answer.” I was pretty sure the money would roll in, but wasn’t sure the Harbury Foundation’s reputation would recover. “Let’s abandon the screen and use printouts. It’s not like it’s a presentation to an auditorium. It’s how many? Five?”
“Maybe six.”
“Perfect. So you’ll all be around a table. You can get hard copies of the presentation for everyone and just take them through it.”
“What, just like I do for the board?”
“I guess. I’m not sure what you—”
“I sit and talk everyone through the slide pack. Abigail always does her bit standing up, but I never do. It freaks me out.”
“Exactly. So, this way will be better.” I glanced down at the paper copy of the slides I had in front of me. “And I want you to take out this slide.” I drew a diagonal line through slide three. “It doesn’t make sense the way you’re talking about it.”
“But Abigail—”
“I don’t care. Slide three goes. I think you should replace it with testimonials from recipients of the foundation’s help.”
Truly frowned but tentatively drew a cross through slide three and scribbled down some notes.
“And we can work on your greeting, add in some of your humor and passion, and you’re going to nail it.” There was nothing Truly couldn’t do if she set her mind to it. She just needed to believe in herself. My eyes dipped to her worried mouth. “We have a whole twenty-four hours before you give this presentation. You know all the material. We just need to make it work for you and then practice.”
“And you’ll be there, right?” She leafed through her slides. I’d never seen her so uncertain, so questioning of herself. She was usually so confident in her opinions and decisions. This more vulnerable side of her was new, and I found it drew me to her, motivated me to ensure she was completely prepared to take on this new role.
“You want me to come into the presentation with you?”
“Of course. You can’t just send me into the lion’s den on my own.”
I chuckled. “It’s hardly the lion’s den.” She glanced up, concern crossing her face. “But if that’s what you need then sure. It’s at three tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Once you’ve done one of these, the rest will get easier. It’s always the same content, right?”
“Mostly. We have variations for new donors and repeat, then we tailor those to high net-worth individuals versus corporations.”
“Good. Once you nail the first one, it’ll only get easier. So make sure you wear something you’re comfortable in and—”
She groaned. “I tried to get that curry stain out and it didn’t work. And I found a hole in my good pair of black trousers.”
“So, shopping is a priority for you.”
“Shopping is never a priority for me.”
Truly had the exact same attitude about clothes that I did. They were functional. Something you put on so you weren’t cold or naked. “I can make a call. Have a stylist pick out some outfits for you.”
“Oh God, a stylist? They’ll have me wearing jumpsuits, blue lipstick, and over-the-thigh boots.”
“Thigh-high boots might not be such a bad thing.” I grinned at her. She’d look fucking phenomenal in a short skirt, red lips, and boots that hit mid-thigh.
She scrunched up a piece of paper and threw it at me.
“What? I’m a straight guy with a pulse. You put it out there.”
>
“Seriously. Stylists just want you to spend a lot of money you don’t have and dress you in things that are fashionable on the hanger but look ridiculous in real life.”
“Truly,” I growled. “I told you, you need to trust me. I’ll get her to call you, and she can arrange something for tomorrow and then going forward, we’ll go and see her together to put a working wardrobe together. I’ll be honest and tell you if I think it doesn’t suit you.”
She paused, as if she didn’t know whether or not she was going to accept. “I could really use your help, but I don’t know how I can repay you. First, you were there to help with Abi, and now with this. It seems like each time I have a problem, you come and unknot it.”
I didn’t understand why that was an issue. “That’s what I’m here for. And, yes, the rehab center is important to me too but . . . I want to help you.”
She groaned, as if my response was the last thing she wanted to hear, and headed to the door.
“I’ll let you know about the stylist.”
She nodded and forced a smile. “Thanks. I do really appreciate all this. It’s just . . . a lot. The speech. The clothes. You.” She shook her head. “Anyway. Thanks.”
She swept out, leaving me in the meeting room, not quite understanding what had just happened. Why had she mentioned me as one of the things worrying her?
I pulled out my phone and dialed Veronica’s number. Truly was right—I was here, unknotting her problems. But that’s what I was good at. She needed my help. Those kids at the rehab center needed my help.
Truly liked to stay in her comfort zone, but I’d never realized how uncomfortable she was accepting assistance. She’d have to get over it. I wasn’t going anywhere until that twenty-five-million-pound target was met, and Truly knew she was more than capable of filling her sister’s shoes.