by Bella Jewel
“We should go clubbing, it’s been so long.”
I sigh, “It so has.”
The bell above the door rattles and I lift my head to see five men entering. I’ve never seen them before, but they don’t look happy. Four of them are dressed in black. The one at the front is older and icky looking.
“Better get back to work,” Candy sighs, standing and rushing off.
I smile at her then turn my attention back to the strange men. Only one approaches the reception desk; the other four stand back, arms crossed. It’s the old man that stops and leers down at me. Ick.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
He grins at me. “Katia, is it?”
His eyes are on my nametag. Double ick.
“Yes. Can I help you?”
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I’m confused. “Sorry, do I know you?”
His smile gets bigger. “My name is Walter. I’m, shall we say, a friend of Marcus’s.”
Walter. I’ve heard of him. Marcus told me he used to run the company until his Grandfather signed it over to him after he died. He said Walter is bitter and dangerous, and I should stay away from him. He also said if he ever came in to call him right away. With a pounding heart, I force a smile. “Are you here to see Marcus?”
“Marcus isn’t here,” he says simply. “It’s you I want to talk to.”
I swallow and reach under the desk to pluck my phone from the filing cabinet sitting under it. I unlock it and causally bring it up and sit it on my desk. Walter’s eyes flick to it, then back to me. I keep smiling, as if I’m not at all concerned he’s here.
“Me?” I ask innocently.
I stretch my arms forward, putting the phone where he can’t see it.
“I wouldn’t call him, Katia. What I have to say will only benefit you.”
Yeah, right.
Loony.
I slowly move my fingers over the keypad, only glancing down once to make sure Marcus’s name is on the screen. I type two words. Walter. Here. Walter is too busy smirking at me to notice my fingers moved, and at his words, I lean back, pretending I’m no longer going to call Marcus.
“Okay,” I say, putting my hands where he can see them. “I won’t call him.”
His smirk gets bigger. “That’s a wise choice.”
“I know who you are, Walter. I also know what you’re doing here and I’m just going to say, before you start, that I’m not interested.”
The phone rings beside me. The reception phone.
“Excuse me, I have to take this.”
I don’t let him answer; I just answer the phone. “Tandem Machinery, Katia speaking.”
“Get up, walk out of there, and call security.”
It’s Marcus.
“Of course, sir. He’s currently out at the moment, but can I take a message?”
“Good girl,” Marcus praises. “Don’t let him know its me. He’s dangerous, Katia. He’s also insane and will say whatever he can to make you doubt this. He wants this company and he’s willing to do whatever he can to get it.”
“I understand. I’ll tell him you called.”
“Get up. Get out. I’ll be there in five.”
“Thank you.”
I hang up and smile back up at Walter. Then I stand and say, “Excuse me, I have to pass on this message, and—”
Walter lashes out, curling his fingers around my arm. I gasp as he pulls me closer, and my eyes dart around to see if anyone is around to help. They’re not. Most are out to lunch right now.
“Listen to me, girl. Marcus Tandem is a bad man. Did you know this business is only a cover up?” He laughs bitterly. “He messes with bad people and money. He works with criminals, bringing in dirty money and running it through his business to make it clean. He runs the operation silently. You didn’t think he made enough money for this house with just hiring and selling machines, did you?”
My body jerks.
“You’re a liar.”
“Am I?” he growls. “So you’ve never had strange people show up to your house, telling him to back down.”
I flinch again.
My father.
Oh God.
“That’s what I thought. Your husband is dealing in some dangerous shit, and he’s going to get himself hurt if he doesn’t stop. I’m here to make a deal with him.”
“Let me go,” I whisper.
“What I have to offer is worth listening to.”
“Let. Me. Go!” I scream.
The sounds of a door crashing open fills the space and then there’s Marcus’s booming voice, as he barks, “Fuckin’ let her go, Walter.”
Walter lets me go and turns, grinning at Marcus. “Well, Marcus, so glad you could join us. I was just telling your dear wife about your extracurricular activities.”
Marcus’s eyes swing to me and I swallow. “Is it true?” I whisper.
“No,” Marcus barks, but there’s something in his eyes.
He’s not going to tell me the truth, and that fucking burns.
“There’s more for me to tell her, of course,” Walter begins, but Marcus lunges forward. He’s got six men with him, so Walter’s guys are no match.
I scurry backwards, moving towards the door.
The news my husband is messing with criminals and helping them with their illegal money has put my body into some sort of shock, I’m almost sure of it. With tears in my eyes, I run out, knowing exactly who will have the answers for me, the answers my husband is refusing to give.
My father.
CHAPTER 27
NOW
Katia
My phone rings constantly as I drive towards my father’s workplace. My mind is spinning and I honestly don’t know what to think. My life just seemed to come good and now it feels like it is spiraling out of control again. Is Marcus dangerous? Is he a bad man? Does he help bad men? Is he lying to me? It’s all too much.
I hunted down my father’s workplace by Googling his name. Turns out he’s been living here for a while now. God, he was so close. I wonder if my mother knew all that time and just didn’t tell me? Nerves fill my tummy as I pull into the car lot in front of a massive twenty-or-so story building. My father is well off, it would seem.
The sign on the door states that I’m at Penner’s Holdings. Okay, scratch that, maybe my dad isn’t the rich one, because whoever this Penner is, clearly he isn’t struggling. As I walk through the front doors, Penner’s name is everywhere. Screwing up my face, I walk to reception with shaky legs. There’s a pretty blond girl standing behind the reception counter, giggling on the phone.
Professional.
She looks up when she sees me and seriously, she does a double take. Yeah, yeah, I know my eye is swollen and I look like shit. Jesus. You would think she’s never seen someone in despair before. I ignore the look she’s giving me and ask, “Is Pierre here?”
She blinks. Again.
Jesus.
“Um, yes. I’ll just call him. What’s your name?”
“Katia.”
She nods and picks up the phone. “Yes, Pierre. I have a girl at reception. She says her name is Katia.”
She nods, then hangs up the phone.
“He’s coming. He’s just wrapping up a meeting. He won’t be long.”
Swallowing down my nerves, I take a seat and wait. While I’m waiting, a young group of males come charging into reception. There are three of them, and holy mother, they’re all handsome. One is tall, dark and . . . my mouth drops open. When he turns to look at me, everything in my world stops.
He’s the spitting image of Pierre.
Spitting.
My heart leaps into my throat and I stand suddenly. His eyes, black as my father’s, are trained on me. They widen slightly and I struggle to breathe. I . . . I . . . have a brother? He starts striding towards me and I can’t take it. I turn and rush towards the door when I hear my name being called.
“Katia.”
I stop, clenching my e
yes shut. Slowly, I turn to see Pierre standing just beside the reception desk. His eyes are trained on me and he looks . . . almost soft. God dammit. I flick my gaze back to the three men watching me, and I realize they are all dark-haired, brown-eyed, and just like him. I don’t just have one brother—I have three.
“I see,” Pierre mutters, when he sees the looks being passed between the men and me, “you’ve met your sister.”
Now I have three sets of eyes on me, and my cheeks heat as I meet each of them. The first man, the one who was quick to notice me, he looks to be about three or four years older than I am. He’s rugged, he’s handsome as hell, and he looks broody. His dark hair is long like his dad’s, curling around his shoulders. His eyes, so dark brown they’re almost black. From this distance, that’s exactly how they look. Black.
The man next to him looks to be about my age, possibly just a touch younger. He’s got long—I mean, down-past-his-shoulders long—hair. It’s slightly lighter than his father’s, but his eyes are equally as dark. He too is well built, but he looks softer, his face kinder. The last is around about nineteen, I’d guess. He’s got his dark hair cropped short and messy, and his eyes are more milk chocolate than dark brown. He’s smirking at me.
“The fuck?” the older man grunts.
I guess he doesn’t like having a sister. Fine by me.
Okay, that’s a lie.
“Katia,” Pierre says carefully. “Meet my sons, Ford—” He points to the oldest, “—Landon—” he points to the middle, “—and Wyatt.”
I swallow.
“Sons,” he says to the boys. “Meet my daughter, Katia. Remember, I told you about her?”
He told them about me?
I close my eyes, squeezing them together. This is too fucking much.
“This is too fucking much,” I breathe, and then gasp as I realize I said that out loud.
Wyatt snorts and I open my eyes to see his smirk has gotten bigger. “Always wanted a sister. You got any hot friends?”
I stare at him.
“Wyatt!” Pierre growls. “Go easy.”
“She looks like she’s goin’ to chuck,” Landon says. “Anyone fancy gettin’ a bucket?”
I turn to him, scoffing in a pathetic voice, “I’m not going to chuck.”
My eyes flicker to Ford, who still hasn’t said a damned word. He’s glaring at me, seriously glaring. Pierre follows my gaze and stares at his son. “Ford,” he says, low. “Say hello.”
Ford’s eyes slash to his father and in a low, gravelly voice he mutters, “Fuck you, cunt.”
Oh, boy.
Then he storms out.
Pierre closes his eyes, as if searching for patience, before turning back to me. “Katia, I’m sorry about that. Why are you here?”
“I . . .” I swallow. “I need to talk to you.”
He nods, then turns to the remaining two boys. “Go back to work.”
“Do we get to see you again?” Wyatt asks, grinning at me.
“Dude,” I mutter. “We’re related, stop grinning at me like I’m a piece of candy you found in your pocket.”
With that, I follow Pierre down the hall to the sounds of Wyatt and Landon’s laughter. A sound I kind of like.
~*~*~*~
“You want to know about Marcus?” Pierre asks.
“That, and why you have three sons, one that’s older than me,” I mutter.
His eyes flash. “One story at a time. Firstly though, I’m glad you’re here, Katia.”
“I’m not here for you, Pierre. I’m here for answers.”
He looks slightly pained and that pisses me off, but I say nothing.
“First, Marcus,” he begins. “What do you want to know?”
“Does he run dirty money and make it clean for bad...dudes?”
He flinches. “Pardon?”
“Don’t play the fool to me, Pierre. I’m not a stupid girl; my momma raised me better. I know you’re a bad man; she also told me about that. What I want to know, clear and straight, is if my husband is a bad man too.”
He stares at me for a long while, then he sighs and mutters, “Marcus has been helping change dirty money for years now. He’s well known. He’s clever and he’s good at it.”
“I don’t fully understand...dirty money?”
“Criminals run money from drugs they sell, or guns, you know the drill. Marcus takes that money, which is classed as dirty and he runs it through his company, and he makes it look clean. It’s basically a way of making their actions untraceable.”
“He’s helping bad men, basically?”
“Yeah, he has his fingers in a lot of pies. He’s a smart man and he doesn’t like people coming and messing with his business. He’s remained clean this long, and when people, like me or another man called Lucas, come in and start messing around, he doesn’t take to it well.”
Everything in my world comes to a screeching halt and my breath catches in my chest, refusing to exit my body. Pain radiates through me like a giant kick to the stomach.
“And you?” I croak.
“I’m involved, too. I can’t tell you how, and I won’t. Marcus and I don’t see eye to eye, because we both believe this is our side of the state. Before you get upset, Katia, remember that it’s not what a man does that makes him.”
I shake my head, glaring at him. “What would you know about being a decent man?”
His eyes soften. “I never knew about you, Katia. Do you think for a second if I did, that I would have just laid down and let her leave?”
“She has a name!” I scream.
He flinches, but his eyes remain soft.
“What about Ford, huh?” I yell. “He’s older than me, Pierre.”
He closes his eyes, exhaling loudly. “I met Ford, Landon and Wyatt’s mom before I met yours. I didn’t fall in love with her in the same way, but she was a good woman. She got pregnant with Ford before I met your momma and I didn’t know about him until two years after your momma left me. I was alone, and I’d lost the woman I loved. I found out about Ford and I got back together with Sherry. She had Landon and Wyatt, and our marriage wasn’t great. She died of cancer three years ago, leaving the boys alone.”
Oh.
I blink, sad for them. They lost their mom? How awful.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly.
He nods.
“I’m not a heartless man, Katia. I love my children, and I want to be in your life.”
“I can’t . . . I just can’t . . . I can’t process this right now. Can you accept that?”
He nods again. “Yes.”
I stand. “I need air. Thank you for talking to me.”
“I’m here, Katia,” he murmurs watching me go to the door. “Always.”
CHAPTER 28
NOW
Marcus
Where the fuck is she? It’s been six hours and I haven’t heard from her. Fuck, what the hell am I doing? I’m stuck in a God damned emotional spiral I can’t get out of. I want her. I don’t. This isn’t how this was meant to go. It was meant to remain emotion-free and smooth, and at the end of the two years, it was meant to end. Not this. None of these feelings.
My phone rings, causing my body to flinch. I’ve been pacing my office for the last two hours, waiting for her to call. She hasn’t. At the sound of my phone ringing, I lunge at it, reaching down and snatching it up without looking at the display. “Katia?” I yell, hating how fucking frantic I sound. I shouldn’t care. Not at all.
“It’s not Katia, it’s Pierre.”
“What the fuck do you want?” I bark.
He sighs. “Marcus, you and I are never going to be close but you’re married to my daughter and she came to see me today, asking about you. I told her the truth, which means she knows what you do. I’m not going to judge anything, Marcus, but I’m her father, and I wanted you to know because she’s hurting. This is me, giving you a heads up.”
Fuck me.
He’s helping her.
And he�
�s helping me.
“Thank you,” I mutter.
“She loves you, Marcus. For whatever reason. Because of that I’m going to have to step aside and let her. Don’t give me a reason to have to hunt you down.”
Then he hangs up the phone. Fuck. This shit just keeps getting better. I sigh loudly, running my hand through my hair and growling low and deep. Before I have the chance to process the fact that Katia went to her father and asked about me, not to mention that Walter came this fuckin’ close to blowing everything, my phone rings again. I glance down at it this time, and see Katia’s name. I reach for it quickly, answering and pressing it to my ear.
“Katia, where are you?”
There’s a long silence.
“Marcus?”
There’s something wrong, I hear it in her voice instantly. It’s scratchy, like she’s been crying, but it seems worse, like she’s been told her best friend is dead.
“Katia, what’s wrong?”
“It’s my mom . . .” she whispers. “She’s been in a car accident.”
~*~*~*~
KATIA
I stare blankly at the stark white wall. I feel nothing. Nothing at all. My entire world is crashing around me and I have no one to lean on. Dusty tried, but I don’t want him. Candy has called, but I didn’t answer. I called Marcus, and he told me he was on his way, but nothing feels okay. My mom is in surgery, Ellie is hysterical, and I’m sitting out here alone. Dusty disappeared half an hour ago to get coffee.
Unable to sit still, I stand up. My entire world is spinning as I run down the halls. If something happens to my mom . . . I can’t live with that. She’s all I have. I know it was an accident, I know Ellie didn’t mean for her car to crash, but now I could lose the only good thing I have left. Who the hell will I have if I don’t have her? My body jerks and tears finally break over the wall they’ve been welling up behind.
They spill over and I sob loudly.
I run outside and into the rain. The cool drops hammer against my warm skin, and it only makes my tears come harder. My legs are weak, my heart, it fucking hurts, and my eyes burn with the tears welling up and cascading down my cheeks. I make it just pas the car park when my legs give out and I sink to the ground. My fingers tangle into my hair and I cry, I cry so hard it turns into ragged screams.