by Lulu Pratt
The lights glare down on me. The emails that pour into my inbox demand solutions, demand so much of me. I am just about to grab a coffee, hoping that a five-minute break will have me back up to speed, but as I stand, the phone begins to ring.
With a groan, I sit back down. I clear my throat and pick up the phone, sounding as professional as ever, “Cade Harlow speaking. How may I help you?”
“Mr. Harlow, I am so glad that I got hold of you.”
It might just be the exhaustion talking, but the voice on the other side of that line sounds too smooth. Too unruffled. Too calm and composed. He has only said a single sentence and already I have a feeling that he believes he holds all the cards.
But I have no idea what game we are meant to be playing.
He continues, “I’m Adam Jones, a lawyer. I’m calling in regards to the release of your trust fund.”
I feel my heart clench in my chest as I stare at the figures on the screen, the terribly bleak figures. I steel myself, my voice as even and professional as ever.
“Mr. Jones. Thank you for your call. How can I assist you with that?” I ask.
“I would like to arrange a meeting to discuss the transfer of funds upon your birthday.” I can hear a quiet smile in his voice. “When would suit you?”
“My schedule is quite full at the moment.” I glance at the computer. I am most definitely not lying.
“I understand, Mr. Harlow. Running a company must take so much of your time.” I feel defensive, chilled. He’s done his research on me.
He continues, “But if you could find some time, I would really appreciate it. The quicker we can get through the paperwork, the quicker we can get the money transferred to you.”
I skim through my calendar, considering his words, “I’m free Wednesday morning.”
“That would be perfect. Let me give you my details.” He rattles off an email address and I take it down, so that I can give him a more concrete time.
“Is there anything I should bring?” I ask, curt, polite.
“Just the standard paperwork, proof of identification and so forth.” He pauses and I can feel the tension crackle in the air as he adds casually, “And bring your fiancée. It would be good to meet her.”
I freeze. It is so causal and so threatening at the same time. Completely harmless, a simple request and yet it gets my back up.
“I’ll see if she is available. Thank you for your time, Mr. Jones.” I know the edge in my voice is cold, but I am beyond caring. I’ve played nice with this man for long enough and it is clear what he is up to. What worries me most is the fact that he doesn’t seem interested in hiding his true intentions – he must be pretty confident in himself, in finding a chink in my armor.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Harlow. I look forward to seeing you there.” So pleasant, so polite.
I put down the phone and I am angry to see that my hands are shaking. It’s nothing. This man doesn’t know anything. He’s just a hired snoop, lawyer or not. He’s the hired help and there is no way I am going to let him topple the empire my father built.
There will be no reason for him to doubt the relationship between Ellen and me. No reason to snoop any further or get anyone else involved. There is no reason for me to worry and I need to keep that firmly in my mind, and not worry about the rest of it. Just play my part well and leave the rest to fate. And to Ellen.
I stare at the phone, the longing for a cup of coffee strong. I have to make yet another phone call now, deal with yet another set of problems. My head is starting to throb and resentment builds in my chest against Adam Jones, even though I have never met him in person.
I pick up the phone again and with a sense of reluctance, I dial Ellen’s number.
It rings for so long that I’m worried she is not going to pick up. When she does, I sigh in relief, “Ellen. When’s your break? I’m dying for a coffee.”
CHAPTER SIX
ELLEN CASSIDY
I jump when my phone rings, scrabbling to find it in the bottom of my bag. I finally manage to get it out, just before it goes to voicemail. I answer and hold it up to my ear. I sound breathless, “Ellen speaking.”
“Ellen. When’s your break? I’m dying for a coffee.” It’s Cade. There’s an odd tone to his words and I quietly wonder if there’s news.
I glance at the customer in the chair, waiting for highlights to finish developing, “In about half an hour. Where would you like to meet?”
“I’ll see you at the salon.” He sounds distracted, like he has had one heck of a busy morning.
I smile, despite my frustration. “What if I have plans?”
“Do you?” He shoots back.
I sigh, “I’ll see you in half an hour.”
“Good.” His tone softens a little, “Thanks for agreeing at such short notice.”
We get off the phone and I turn back to my client. Only five more minutes on the highlights and I take my time preparing the equipment I will need, readying the sinks and more. Five minutes later and I am rubbing the lather into her hair, rinsing it out and styling it into a flattering cut, a quick blow dry and a spritz of hair product and another happy customer is leaving the salon. I glance at the clock, and tell my manager that I’m taking my break now.
Ducking into the back, I change into a more flattering shirt. I leave the same old jeans on – not really bothered to change them. A quick brush through my hair, flash of hair product and application of lipstick has me feeling a little fresher.
I pull on my coat, grab my bag and head out of the store. Cade is right on time, standing at the corner. He smiles at me and I feel my insides flutter despite myself. He’s carrying a single rose, which he presents to me, “Thank you for joining me.”
I shrug, although I cannot hide the blush that grows on my skin at the lovely gesture, “Thank you.”
We begin walking down the street, the cool air teasing my hair and brushing down my neck. I shiver and I can see Cade hunting for a suitable coffee shop. He eventually settles on a little one not far from my salon. It’s quaint, almost boutique and it is not the type of shop I would have thought Cade enjoyed.
We sit down and we both order our coffee. Cade orders a double shot of espresso and I notice the sallow look to his skin. He is as handsome as ever, and you’d have to have seen him many times to notice when he is looking a bit pale. There is little doubt in my mind, though – Cade is working himself hard.
When the coffee comes, he doesn’t hesitate in drinking it as quickly as he can. I sip mine slowly, enjoying the taste. “So, what’s the matter?”
“Does something need to be the matter for me to take my fiancée out to coffee?” He smiles, smooth as ever. Tired or not, he’s still the same as he always is.
I shrug, “You tell me. You seem a bit tired.”
Cade glances at me. “Busy morning. Got a phone call from the trust fund lawyer.”
The hair on the back of my neck prickles at the news and I feel a little sick, a little giddy at the thought. I’m trying to keep a straight face, but I am sure that I am failing hopelessly. “What about?” I ask as casually as I can.
There’s tension around Cade’s eyes, but he’s remarkably casual and calm, “Just a meeting to get all my documents in order.” He smiles and it looks a little thin, “Meet you, my fiancée. The usual.”
He’s as casual and composed, but I can feel the tension crackling in the air between us. His meaning is absolutely clear as day. They don’t believe our relationship is real. They’re going to do everything they can to disprove it. I feel nausea settle in my stomach.
I want to ask him questions, to talk about a game plan. Instead, I reach across the table and take his hand, looking at him lovingly. “I’d love to come with you. When’s the meeting?” I smile.
For a moment, I am convinced that I have caught Cade off guard. Then he sighs and I can tell that everything’s going smoothly again, “Wednesday.” He looks at me with concern so believable that I swear it is genuine, �
��Will you be able to get off work?”
I consider this in earnest for a moment, before I nod, “Should be okay. What time?”
“I’ll send you the details. The morning, I expect.” he smiles. “We should grab breakfast before the meeting.”
“Sounds great.” I have a sneaky suspicion that I will not be up for eating anything at all on the day of the meeting, but I will do whatever I need to in order to keep up the pretense.
I grin in an attempt to ease the tension that is still very much in the air, “Maybe I will take you up on the offer to go shopping.”
Cade shrugs, “You look gorgeous no matter what you wear.”
I’m annoyed at myself for how easily he is able to take me off guard. Sweet words, flowers, coffee dates. He surprises me at every turn. I know he just has to keep up pretenses, but it is easy to get caught up in it all.
“Flattery, Mr. Harlow.” I rummage in my purse.
This time, I’m able to call the waitress first. However, before I can pay, he has slipped a card into the bill and sent it back with a tip. I shoot him a dark look, “I can pay for coffee.”
“I know… but I asked you out.” He raises an eyebrow, “I do have manners, you know.”
Suddenly, I feel pushed aside, acutely aware of how fake this all is. It’s not a relationship – it’s a business transaction, and no amount of searing kisses will fix that.
“No, I don’t always notice that.” I mutter as I rise to my feet. I turn to the door, making my way to the exit. Cade catches up with me as I step outside. He catches my arm and turns me around to face him.
There’s anger in his eyes and something sizzles within me. His grip on my arm is gentle, though, and he lets go quickly despite the embers in his eyes, “Look, Ellen. I’m trying here.”
I feel tears prickle at my vision and I am horrified to realize that I want to cry. I glare back at him instead, “Trying? Yeah, that’s great.” I feel hurt blossom in my chest. It happens so suddenly that I feel winded, caught off guard.
Cade frowns and I can see something lingering behind the anger. It looks almost like hurt, but it can’t be. Not Cade. He sighs, “Yes, trying. I know this isn’t the perfect circumstance, but I didn’t think I was that impossible to be around.”
His tone is tight and I don’t know how to respond. I’m not sure why I’m reacting like this at all. He’s done everything right – been polite, paid for it all, brought flowers and rings and dressed up nicely. He’s complimented me, he’s kissed me in a way that makes me melt.
He’s done it all right.
But none of it is real. The thought strikes me with a thud in my chest. None of it is real, and he can try all he likes – all it does is make it more painful. I’m in a relationship where all my wildest dreams are coming true. He could be the man of my dreams… but he doesn’t mean a single bit of it, and that hurts more than I want to admit to him. To myself.
Instead, I swallow my tears and smile, “You’re great to be around.” My words sound shallow, even to my own ears, “Life’s a bit hectic. Sorry for taking it out on you.”
He stares at me for a long moment and I have a suspicion that he knows I’m lying. His face smooths quickly and I’m left doubting myself. Did I ever see the anger and the hurt in his eyes? Or did I imagine the whole thing?
“Don’t worry about it. I know you’re stressed right now.” He smiles and it’s like nothing ever happened between us. He moves in and touches my cheek, “Don’t worry about it. Is there anything I can do to help?”
I feel moved to tears again, and I just smile, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, all right?”
It’s in his best interest not to argue with me. It’s in his best interest to act like he cares. It doesn’t mean anything and it doesn’t have to. I agreed to this, I signed up for this and I am benefiting from it too. The very least I can do is honor my commitment instead of blowing up at him for honoring his.
Cade nods, “Well, let me know if you change your mind. I’ll walk you back to work.”
I don’t have the energy to argue. We walk back in relative silence, broken only by our footfalls and the hum of traffic, the sound of voices as we pass more shops and cafes. It’s a chilly day, but the sky is clear. I relish in the sight of it, relish in the way the wind seems to blow away the cobwebs in my soul. It’s a refreshing feeling.
By the time we get back to the salon, I’m feeling a lot better. Emboldened, I lean in and give him a quick hug, “I hope work goes well.” I say, and I realize that I mean it. I want work to go well for him.
I want him to succeed, and I kind of wish I didn’t.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELLEN CASSIDY
Wednesday rolls around and I wake with nerves in my stomach. I can feel the butterflies fluttering around and making me feel sick. I push myself out of bed and stare at the alarm clock. In a few hours, I will be in a meeting, technically lying to a lawyer about a fake relationship.
I drop back down onto my pillow. For a wild moment, I contemplate not going. I contemplate doing something insane, like calling in sick or something. I wonder if I should call off this lie. But I can’t, I have too many people depending on me. My mum, my brother, Cade.
I sigh and reluctantly drag myself out of bed.
I can’t call in sick to life, although sometimes I wish that I could. I wish that with all my heart. I put on the coffee machine before making my way to the bathroom. I need a shower – a long one. I also need to look my very best for this meeting, whether I am invested in it or not.
I need to look like I really care about this. In a way, I really do care. So I start by putting a mask on my face. I grab a shower scrub and a razor and get to work. Once I have scrubbed and shaved every inch, I feel a lot more polished than I have in quite a long time.
I wet my hair, next lathering it up with a sweet smelling shampoo. A condition follows and I try to let the product sit in my hair for as long as possible. When I finally rinse it out of my hair, and step out of the shower, I feel more put together than I have in months.
I rinse off my face mask with cold water in the sink, the blast of ice helping me wake up a little more. I wash my skin and put on lotion.
My face is first, followed by a moisturizer all over my body. It leaves my skin feeling fresh and soft and it adds a glow to it that I haven’t seen recently. It’s usually masked by a haze of exhaustion and lack of time.
Now, my skin is glowing and I have to admit that I love it. It’s been far too long since I’ve taken time to do this for myself. I run some product through my hair and twist it into a soft towel. Once I am all wrapped up in my robe, I move to the bedroom and bring out the hair dryer.
This part I am good at. I style my hair simply, blasting it with the dryer until it’s mostly dry. A gentle comb through and a few moments with the curling iron, and my hair is looking good. I spray it with a bit of product to keep it in place and check that it looks polished.
Next, I make my way over to my wardrobe where my latest outfit sits. It’s very rare I splurge on new clothes, but I did buy one outfit with the credit card from Cade – a neat new one for the meeting today. It’s professional and I am confident in my choice. I slip into it – a simple black dress that hugs my curves and stops just above my knee. It shows some skin, but not enough to look trashy.
I smile and put on a simple necklace. The ring that Cade got me is next. I have not put it on since the night of the engagement, and I admire the sparkle. I hadn’t worn it as I didn’t want to expose it to the chemicals at the salon or get clients’ hair caught in the setting. Tasteful earrings, stockings and low heels complete the look. I apply my makeup, taking care to keep it subtle, before grabbing my bag.
I flick off my coffee machine with a sigh of disappointment – I didn’t get a moment to drink it – before I head out of my apartment, locking the door behind me.
The pain from before has eased to a low ache in my chest, but I am still worried about my meeting with Cade. I ha
ven’t seen him or spoken to him since our last coffee break, except for him to relay the details of the appointment. I feel nervous, despite myself.
We’re meeting at a cute little restaurant about a block away from the meeting. I know the shop, so I catch a bus into the heart of the city. I consider what Cade has told me about today. We’re meeting a lawyer. He’ll be handling the trust fund settlement.
Cade has a suspicion that the lawyer has just been hired to dig up the dirt on us. We can’t let that happen, obviously. My stomach twists at the thought and I wonder what the heck I have gotten myself into.
I arrive at the restaurant early and find a seat in the corner, at the far end. I order myself a coffee. After a moment of debating with myself, I order Cade a coffee too. They arrive at the table before he does and I sip mine slowly, letting the caffeine seep into my system slowly.
Cade arrives soon after and I offer him a small smile. He sits and glances at his coffee. “Thanks.” He smiles, smooth as ever, but there’s an edge to his voice and I wonder if it’s got something to do with me. It’s probably just about the meeting.
I nod, “It’s going to be okay.”
We sit in silence for a moment as he sets down his briefcase and takes a long drink of his coffee. Double espresso. It seems like I guessed right.
“You ready?” he asks, glancing my way.
“Sure.” I shrug, sounding far more confident than I feel.
He nods and looks me over, “You look lovely.”
His compliment sends little shivers down my spine, though I shrug it off. I’m also forced to consider the fact that he’s looking rather handsome himself. Freshly shaven, neat hair and a crisp suit, pleats pressed so perfectly they look like they could slice through stone.
“Not too bad yourself.”
He smirks and I swear it could melt even the hardest of hearts. Let’s hope the charm works with this lawyer guy.
“You hungry?” he asks, glancing at his watch. “We have a bit of time.”
“I suppose.” I smile, just to be polite. In all honesty, my stomach is in knots.