Lie to Me

by Preston, Natasha

  “Why is it hidden?”

  That’s something a business has handy, not chucked in some box.

  What’s Savannah really up to with my sister’s banking documents?

  Heidi needs to be more careful with who has access to those.

  “It’s not usually. Heidi threw it in one of the four accounting boxes last week, but with the reorganisation, she forgot which one.”

  I grit my teeth. That does sound like Heidi. She’s an incredible designer, but when it comes to the business side of things, she’s a nightmare. But that doesn’t mean that Savannah isn’t up to something she shouldn’t be.

  I don’t think she’s being true, and I don’t like her because she could easily take advantage of Heidi’s kindness and scatty approach to business.

  Swallowing a sick feeling, I say, “I’ll help. It’ll be much faster with someone with two hands.”

  Her full lips curve in a smile. “You know I still have my arm, right?”

  I kneel down and put my coffee on the floor. “Which boxes have you been through so far?”

  “This is the first. I might still have the arm, but it’s slow-going without the use of it.”

  I lift the lid off the second box. “How is the wrist?”

  “Painful. Much more today than yesterday.”

  “You taking those pain meds the doctor gave you?”

  “No, I thought it would be more fun without.”

  Whoa.

  She shakes her head, and her cheeks tint pink, like she’s embarrassed by her outburst. “Yes, I take them every four hours.”

  I find myself grinning despite not wanting to. Is this who she really is? Is the dull personality an act? I’m not sure yet. “And I see they’ve turned you into a comedian. How strong are they?”

  “I can’t drive on them, but then I can’t drive with this either,” she replies, raising her injured arm.

  “Well, that’s what happens when you don’t look where you’re walking.”

  Her mouth drops open, but I can tell from the light in her eyes that the action is playful. “I couldn’t see over the damn box. I thought the floor was clear.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “Yeah, no shit.” She dips her stunning eyes and picks up her tea. “How much are you hoping to get done today?”

  All of it. I want out of here.

  “Not sure. I’m starting with the fucking full-height cupboards first, as they’ll take the most time. I should be out of your way by the weekend.”

  “You’re not in my way, Kent. Technically, I am.” She gestures to the box and papers over the floor and raises her eyes to me again.

  I dig in the box in front of me. “It’s fine. You’re the one who has a job to do. I’ll work around you.”

  “Ah, here it is,” she says, lifting the paying-in book out of the box. She puts it down and brushes her hair off her shoulder, revealing her neck.

  Yep, she washed her hair this morning. I clear my throat, my gut tightening.

  “I’ll just tidy this stuff away and let you get on. I’d offer to help, but I’m not sure how helpful I’d be,” she says.

  Fire rages in my chest, and my hands clench. “You’d be more of a fucking hindrance than a help anyway. I’ll wait outside for you to finish up and leave.” Grinding my teeth, I rise to my feet and leave an open-mouthed Savannah frozen on the floor.

  Fuck. Fuck it.

  5

  Savannah

  I can feel my face burning, and my mind is trying to make sense of what just happened. Only it doesn’t make sense. We were fine one second, and the next, he was telling me I was in the way.

  Kent is an arsehole, and I shouldn’t have ever thought we could be civil. I mean, for the first thirty seconds there, it seemed like we could work alongside each other for this week without another incident but obviously not.

  I’m already over trying to be nice to him, and it’s only day two.

  Scooping the papers with one hand, I shove them back in the box, not caring that I’m moving slow. He can wait. There was no need for him to be such a wanker back there.

  But I guess he can’t help it.

  Very awkwardly—because I’m one-handed here—I manage to get the paperwork away. He’s absolutely tripping if he thinks I’m moving them out of the room for him. I no longer feel guilty that Heidi and I didn’t manage to get around to clearing the room before he started.

  In fact, I feel like messing it up even more. And hiding his tools.

  Clutching the banking documents I need against my chest, I head out into the office. I left my empty mug on the floor. Oops.

  Kent is standing by the kitchen, drinking. He’s leaning against the countertop with his legs crossed at the ankle, like he owns the place. He seems to think that, just because this is his sister’s business, he has more right to be here. Or maybe he’s just an entitled prick who thinks he owns everything. I don’t know what he does for work, but his clothes are nice, and his car is an expensive, new Range Rover, so he must earn a decent amount. Maybe money has ruined him.

  I think his family is wealthy. Heidi said they own their own business and have a decent-sized house on a lot of land, but I don’t think they’re rich enough for him, a grown man, not to have a job.

  Anyway, I don’t care what he does.

  He probably doesn’t do anything. I bet he claims money from the government while spending his days stealing sweets from children and pushing over old ladies.

  I keep my eyes on my desk as I walk through the main studio. My handbag is on the desk, which has the money inside to be paid, so I focus on getting that and getting out. The air is thick, though I don’t think Heidi senses the tense atmosphere. It wouldn’t surprise me if Kent didn’t either.

  He has to know that snapping at me was out of order, right?

  Yeah, unlikely.

  Heidi looks up and smiles. Her blue eyes are almost identical to Kent’s when his look bluer, but hers look at me with kindness, not contempt. “You found it?” she asks.

  “Yes. I won’t be long.”

  “Do you want me to write out the paying-in slip?”

  I shake my head. “That’s okay, thanks. I have to get used to using one hand.” My right hand is fine, but I’ve found it difficult to write without being able to hold the paper still.

  “I’ll drive you,” Kent says.

  I almost fall over. Like proper drop-to-the-floor falling over. My legs are weak. Twisting around, I gawp at him with my jaw wide open.

  Did he forget what he said two minutes ago? Perhaps he’s planning on running me over with his car.

  “No, that’s fine. The bank is only a few minutes away. I always walk.” I turn away because I don’t want to look at the bastard. Ever again.

  “Yeah, but you were told to take it easy and rest your wrist to begin with. I’ll walk with you, and I can help if you need it.”

  “He’s right, Savannah,” Heidi says, putting her pencil down. “He can help get everything ready or be there just in case you need it. You really can’t use that arm at all right now. It’s not even been twenty-four hours yet.”

  “I don’t think there will be an issue. The door at the bank is automatic, and I can put my bag down on the counter to get everything out.” I can hear the hysteria building in my voice, but Heidi doesn’t blink, so thankfully, she doesn’t realise how much I bloody do not want Kent with me. I would rather struggle or sit down and use my feet to get the money out of my bag.

  “It’s really not a problem,” Kent adds gruffly.

  I can’t see his expression because my back is still to him, but I have the distinct feeling that he’s smug.

  Why does he want to come anyway? Did I dream what happened in the storeroom? No, it definitely happened. I’m not losing it.

  “That’s settled. And, while you’re out, Kent, you can grab me a vanilla latte.”

  “Do I look like your errand boy?”

  She grins. “Yes, you do.”

  “
I’ve taken time off to do you a favour, you know.”

  Oh, so he does work. Loan shark? Drug lord? Pimp?

  I sling my bag over the shoulder of my good arm and turn to face the prick. “Are we going then? I’m sure you’re eager to get on with all your flat pack.”

  Kent raises his eyebrow. “Ready when you are, Savannah.” His voice is overly sweet and quite clearly knobbish.

  I really don’t care what he thinks of me, but I would rather we didn’t bitch at each other in front of Heidi. It could get uncomfortable, considering she’s his sister and my employer. I need to keep this job, and she’s the only friend I have. Sad but true. I left the old ones behind, and considering it took most them only three weeks to stop trying to reach me, I don’t think they were all that cut up about me leaving. Unlike me.

  Pressing my lips tightly together, I walk past him and hold my head up. My instincts are still to keep to myself, to look away and not get involved in anything with anyone ever again—whether that involvement would be good or not. Kent is obviously the not.

  He is hot on my heels. I hear his long strides thudding on the floor behind me, but I just hope he stays a step back because I don’t want to even look at him.

  I shove the studio door open, and Kent catches it at the top, but I’m out just as he touches it, so technically, he didn’t hold the door for me.

  We walk along the path toward the bank, and unfortunately, he doesn’t keep his distance.

  I wait for the apology he owes me, but there is only silence between us.

  “Which bank?” he asks.

  “The one up here,” I snip back.

  “What’s up with you?”

  Are you fucking kidding me?

  My God, he makes me so bloody angry. I curl my fingers around the handle on my handbag. I don’t want him to have any power over me. I don’t want to let him get to me, and I don’t want to argue or snap at him. Nothing he does or says matters to me in the long run.

  “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

  He snorts. “Yeah, all right.”

  I might have made the decision to ignore him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t kill him in my head. I think I’ll need to do that regularly if I’m going to survive this week.

  Over the last three years, I’ve kept my emotions in check. There was a massive blowout, and I left home. Since then, I’ve been in perfect control. I don’t want to lose that control again. With Kent, I sometimes feel it slipping, like when he’s being a dickhead, so I need to try harder. Letting someone in again, in any respect, leaves me open and vulnerable to being hurt.

  I won’t let that happen.

  Kent sighs beside me, and I’d like to think it’s because he’s realised he acted like a knob and he feels bad, but I know better. People like him don’t care what they do or who they hurt.

  As we approach the bank, the door slides open. Even if I need help, I’m not going to ask him. I’d rather struggle. Hell, I’d rather use my fractured arm and end up breaking it fully.

  “No queue,” Kent muses as we head to the cashier desks.

  No shit, Sherlock.

  I chew on the inside of my cheek and walk to the nearest available cashier.

  The guy at the other side of the glass smiles. “How can I help you today?”

  Know a hit man?

  Sliding my handbag off my arm, I place it on the desk. “I need to pay some money into a business account, please.”

  Behind me, far too close behind me, I can hear Kent’s breath. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his intensity. My heart flutters with so much nervousness, I barely make it through a conversation with the cashier.

  I clear my throat and take the money and paying-in book out of my bag. It’s awkward. As I lift the envelope of money out, the corner catches on the strap. With my splint-covered arm, I steady the bag, so it doesn’t fall off.

  Kent doesn’t say anything or move an inch. He’s waiting for me to ask for help.

  Unlikely.

  I unhook the envelope, and it almost drops. Slamming my body against the low wall, I trap the envelope before it falls and grab it. Raising my eyes, I push it through the opening at the bottom of the glass with the paying-in book.

  See, no help needed. I might have looked like someone trying to escape from a paper bag, but I did it alone.

  I turn my head a fraction to the side, so he can see my triumphant smile and know he’s completely redundant here. The cashier taps away on his computer. I watch him work, pretending to ignore Kent when he’s fucking everywhere.

  Sliding the paying-in book back under the glass, he asks, “Is that all today?”

  I snatch the book up and shove it in my bag. “Yes, thank you.” Slinging the bag on my shoulder, I turn around and stalk out of the bank.

  Kent catches up with me. “You did well.” His voice is soft almost. And that touches a nerve. Actually, it jumps all over every one of my nerves, does a dance, and then spits on them.

  The patronising little wanker.

  I step back onto the street, seething. My hands twitch, causing my fractured arm to throb. The pain is welcome; it adds to my anger, ensuring I won’t cave and forgive him.

  You did well. What am I, six?

  Control yourself.

  With every ounce of anger I have building inside, coursing through my veins, I imagine him getting run over by passing vehicles.

  Of course, I wouldn’t actually wish death upon him, but it wouldn’t suck if he were in pain right now.

  My blood is boiling, and I feel like crap for keeping my mouth closed. But I know I will feel worse if I snap back. I’ve gone through too much to have Kent screw it up. It’s Tuesday, and he wants to be done by the end of the week. I have to put up with him for only three more days at the most. I can do that.

  Just kill him in your head. Stab, stab, stab.

  Kent’s pace slows until I can no longer see him in the corner of my eye. That’s just fine with me. I grip the handle of my bag and push my legs faster, eager to get back to the studio where Kent will go into the storeroom.

  How is Heidi so nice, and Kent is so … not? They have the same parents, same upbringing.

  I guess he was born an arsehole.

  Kent stops briefly to get coffee. I decline because he won’t take money from me, and I don’t want to owe him anything.

  We approach the office, and Kent catches up with me. His posture visibly relaxes, and I realise what that was about. He came with me because he didn’t trust me with Heidi’s money.

  Of course that’s it. He couldn’t care less if I was struggling or not. He just wanted to make sure I didn’t pocket some cash.

  I press my hand to the burning in my stomach and blink fast. Do not cry.

  Kent means nothing to me, he’s a bastard, and I’m quickly growing to hate him, but the thought of not being trusted with my employer’s money—hell, anyone’s money—makes me feel like shit.

  I’m not a thief.

  Why would I steal from someone who’s given me a job, someone who helped me find another apartment I could afford, someone who has been my only friend and doesn’t push the things I don’t want to talk about? I wouldn’t.

  I shove the studio door open, eager to get away from Kent and calm my frayed nerves. Heidi doesn’t look up from her sketch as we walk back into the office. When she’s really into a design, she probably wouldn’t notice a bomb going off.

  I put my bag on my desk and take the paying-in book out, much more successfully than I did in the bank. Kent stops by my table and takes a deep breath. I’d love to know what’s going through his mind right now.

  Is he telling himself to play nice?

  “I can take the book and put it away,” he says. His voice is low, and he kind of sounds like a kid who’s been forced to be kind by his parent.

  “Thanks,” I say, but in my head, I’m screaming, Fuck off.

  “Knock, knock!”

  I turn toward the voice. I’ve not met Kent and Heidi’s
sister, Brooke, but if this isn’t her, then someone has cloned Heidi. The only difference is, Heidi’s dark hair is longer.

  “What’re you doing here, Brooke?” Kent asks.

  Heidi is still completely absorbed in her design, but she does acknowledge her sister’s presence with a quick raise of her eyebrow.

  “Wow. Hi to you, too.” She rolls her eyes. “I wanted to see how Heidi was getting on with my wedding dress. You must be Savannah. It’s lovely to finally meet you. I hope your arm is okay,” she says, walking past her idiot brother and holding her hand out.

  I shake her hand. “Good to meet you, too. It is, thanks. Your dress is almost finished, and it looks amazing.”

  Heidi finally looks up, her pencil suspended midair in her hand. She smirks at her sister before regarding me. “Savannah, can you help Brooke into it? I’ll be with you both in a minute when I’ve finished this.”

  Brooke beams at me and claps her hands together. “Let’s get me in it!”

  Kent wrinkles his nose and walks into the storeroom.

  Good.

  “Sure, follow me.”

  Through a door next to the storeroom is a larger space with a sofa, table, and curtained area. It’s where Heidi takes the few clients she’s done bespoke work for. One of the long sidewalls is also where we have the photographs of the clothes taken.

  “How do you like working for Heidi?” Brooke asks.

  “I love it. I love clothes.” I walk to the end of the room and swing the curtain open.

  Hanging up on the hook on the wall is Brooke’s dress. Heidi usually takes it to Brooke’s house for fittings, but I guess Brooke couldn’t wait.

  Brooke gasps. “God, it gets better each time I see it.”

  The dress is made of lace with a short train and sweetheart neckline. At first, I thought it might be lace overload, but it’s not. It’s gorgeous.

  “I think so, too. Heidi is a genius.”

  “She sure is. Though, growing up, she was proper annoying.”

  I laugh as I carefully take the dress off the hanger, one-handed. “You’re the eldest, right?”

  “Yeah. I hated them both growing up. Heidi was my shadow, trying to do everything I did, and Kent did everything he could to aggravate me.”