by Becca Steele
Both of us were relieved by the change of subject. “I’m looking for Weston. Have you seen him?”
“Yes.” Her brows pulled together. “I think…yes. He was on the sofas in the chillout area when I saw him.”
“Thanks.”
Leaving her outside the bar, I weaved my way through the crowds to the very back of the huge space where groups of sofas were arranged against the wall, packed full of people. My body turned on instinct, the pull of him so strong that it led me to him like a homing beacon.
I sucked in a shocked breath, all the air leaving my lungs as I saw him sprawled on the furthest sofa, next to a couple of girls who thankfully seemed more interested in talking to each other. His glazed eyes were ringed with dark circles. In one hand he gripped a cup, beer sloshing out of the side as he balanced it on the arm of the chair. The other hand rested on the back of the sofa. I watched, suddenly rooted to the spot as a gorgeous girl with wavy blonde hair swung herself into his lap and his arm came down from the back of the sofa to snake around her waist.
Everything happened at once.
Maybe I wasn’t thinking straight, but I had unfinished business with Weston Cavendish, and I wasn’t about to let another girl fool around with him, not until he’d heard what I’d come to tell him. I stalked over to them, gripping the girl’s arms and pulling her from Weston’s lap.
Her eyes widened as she took in the expression on my face, and she swallowed nervously.
Releasing my grip, I waited until her eyes met mine, and then I spoke, carefully enunciating every word so there would be no misunderstanding.
“He’s off limits.”
She stared at me for a moment, before mumbling something about not wanting to be in the middle of drama, then disappeared into the crowds. That dealt with, I turned to Weston.
He stared at me, expressionless.
“West?”
“Leave me alone.” His words were low and toneless.
“No.” I stepped between his parted thighs.
“Leave me alone,” he repeated, lifting the cup in his hands to his lips.
“Never.”
“I don’t want you here, Lena. We have nothing to say to each other.”
His words sliced through me, but I’d expected them, so I was prepared.
“Too bad. I’m not leaving.”
“Fucking go.” He lifted the cup again, and I knocked it from his hand. I ignored the shriek of surprise from the girl sitting next to him as the cold liquid splashed on her legs. That was the least of my concerns.
“I’m not leaving until you speak to me.”
He finally raised his gaze to meet mine, half-lidded and glassy, and I stumbled backwards at the look in his eyes. Oh. He was still angry. Really, really angry. Underneath the anger, though, I could see the hurt and confusion, and that killed me.
I crouched down in front of him. Tentatively, I reached out and placed a hand on his thigh. He stiffened but didn’t push me away, which was something, at least.
“Need another drink,” he slurred, his head falling back. “I can’t deal with you right now.”
“West, please.”
“Just fucking leave me alone.” He closed his eyes.
Right.
Rising to my feet, I took him in, leaning back on the sofa all dark and sexy, tension thrumming through his body despite the amount of alcohol he’d clearly ingested.
Then, I turned my back and walked away.
Only as far as the bar. I had to get him to listen to me somehow.
When I returned, I handed him a large plastic cup brimming with a clear liquid. “Drink this.”
Surprisingly, he took it from me. Tipping it to his lips, he took a large gulp, then grimaced. “What the fuck is this?”
“Water. Drink it.”
I could’ve sworn a growl came from his throat, as he levelled me with a dark look. But he downed the rest of the water, then threw the cup into the crowd.
Standing in front of him, I eyed him carefully. He’d stopped telling me to leave, but now he was acting like I wasn’t even here. I’d never seen him like this before, and I honestly didn’t know what to do.
Fuck it. Stepping forwards, I straddled him, sinking down onto his thighs.
His hard muscles tensed underneath my legs. “Get off me.”
“No.”
“You’ve done enough. I don’t want you here, Mercury,” he practically snarled.
Yep. He was seriously pissed off with me. “Too bad. I’m not leaving until I’ve said what I came here to say.”
“Leave me the fuck alone.” He lifted me off him and climbed to his feet, staggering away through the crowd. As if I was going to let him get away from me that easily. I stalked through the crush of bodies in the direction of the doors.
When I reached the outside of the building, I stopped dead when I saw him leaning against the wall. He blinked a few times, finally focusing on my face, his eyes clearer at last. Hopefully the fresh air and the water had helped. “Go on, then. Say whatever it was you wanted to say.”
“Can we get a coffee first? I think we need to sober up. By we, I mean you. You need to stop trying to chase your problems away with alcohol.”
He snorted at that. “Whatever.”
I stared at him, arms folded across my chest, until he gave a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll grab one from the machine.”
A few minutes later, he returned with two coffee cups in his hand, one of which he handed to me wordlessly.
A tiny ember of hope lit inside me. And when I tasted the slightly bitter, chocolatey flavour of my favourite mocha, the hope flared.
We sipped our coffees in silence, walking in the direction of the car park. “Where do you want to talk?” I ventured, stopping close to my car.
He shrugged, not answering.
“Okay, here is good, then.” I hopped up onto the low stone wall that ran down the side of the car park. He stood, facing me, wariness in his deep aquamarine eyes.
Taking a deep breath, I began to relay my story, explaining why I’d reacted the way I had to him. I didn’t stumble, I didn’t falter—I needed to make him understand. His expression morphed from shock, to horror, to anger, to disbelief, and by the time I’d finished speaking, he was leaning against the wall next to me, breathing heavily and gripping the stone so tightly that his knuckles were white.
“Fucking hell,” he said shakily. His eyes met mine, wide and distressed. “How could you have let me touch you at all?”
I shook my head, the sudden lump in my throat leaving me unable to answer.
“I’m so sorry. So sorry.” He lifted his arm as if to touch me, but hesitated and let it fall to his side.
That small movement broke me, and the tears that I’d been able to hold at bay gathered in my eyes.
Without knowing it, he continued to twist the knife. “I think it’s better that we don’t see each other for a while,” he said in a low mutter.
I broke a little bit more. The thing was? He was probably right. “Okay.” My voice came out as a whisper. “And, West, for what it’s worth, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you I was Mercury.”
“No. We’re not talking about this now.” He shook his head emphatically, then released his death grip on the wall and began to back away from me. “Get in the car. Text Winter or Cass as soon as you get home.” A heavy breath escaped him as he lifted his hand, and the moment felt final. “Bye, Lena.”
He waited until I was safely inside my car.
Then he was gone, taking a piece of me with him.
SEVENTEEN
Two weeks had passed, and I hadn’t spoken to Lena, but I was living back at home, and my relationship with my friends was back on track. Yeah, I still had some resentment and hurt there, but it helped to see how cut up they’d been about it all. Cade, in particular.
“Here.” My brother slid a large mug of coffee across the table to me as I sat, rubbing at my brow. My headache wouldn’t shift, and I wasn’t making any headway with investiga
ting this guy. “What’s up?”
“Just not getting anywhere with this guy, Martin Smith. Have you heard of him? He works for Alstone Holdings, but everything about him is perfect. Too perfect. Not even a parking fine.”
He lowered himself into the seat next to me. “I vaguely recognise the name but couldn’t tell you anything about him. So Dad’s asked you to investigate because he can’t pin anything on this guy legally?”
“Yeah, pretty much. Except he doesn’t know it’s me investigating.”
He studied me. “Don’t you think you should tell him?”
“No.”
“But you had a problem with the fact that Lena was keeping her identity as Mercury hidden.”
“That’s not the same,” I snapped.
“Isn’t it?” He raised a brow.
“Okay, look, I’ll tell him afterwards, okay? But you know I won’t be able to get anything done if he knows it’s me. You, you’re the responsible older one, but me? He doesn’t see me as capable. Yet.”
“That’s also true.” Leaning back in his chair, he kicked up his feet and rested them on the edge of the desk. “You want some help? I’ve got your back. You’re my brother, and you know what? You are fucking capable. You’re a computer genius, and we wouldn’t have got anywhere with the whole Christine thing without you.”
“Feet off my desk,” I told him, and he stuck his tongue out at me. Shaking my head, I tutted. “And people think you’re the mature one.”
“Fuck off.” He grinned at me. “Wanna follow this Smith guy and see where he goes? Or track him down at Dad’s work?”
“I do…” I glanced at my phone to check the time. “I’ve got to meet James at the uni library soon, want to come? We can check out Martin Smith afterwards.”
“James who?” A suspicious expression crossed his face, and I couldn’t help my smirk.
“Granville.”
“Fucking Granville,” he muttered. “Why?” He threw his head back, staring at the ceiling as if it had the answers.
I laughed. “Because I want to talk to him about Lena. You know, say thanks and all that. Cassius thanked him already, but y’know. She’s our best mate’s sister. We’ve known her all our lives. We owe him our thanks.”
His expression sobered as he lowered his head. “Oh, yeah.” Lena had asked Winter to give the others the details of what had happened to her. Winter had told me that talking about it and people knowing had really helped Lena. It made me sick to think of what she’d been through, and despite the fact that we’d both fucked up things between us, I owed James my thanks. I didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if he hadn’t been there.
“Let’s go now. I’m not getting anything done here.” Standing, I stretched. “We’re taking my car, by the way.”
“Mine.”
“Mine.”
We argued all the way to the front door and ended up driving separately since, apparently, both of us were stubborn bastards.
In the library, I met James up on the top floor, dragging along my unwilling brother. Before we could even sit down, Caiden opened his big mouth. “I would say it’s a pleasure, Granville, but we both know that would be a lie.”
James rolled his eyes. “Seeing your face always brightens my day, Cavendish.”
My brother bit back a smile, and I laughed. At this point, I was 80 percent sure that they were just pretending to dislike each other.
We threw ourselves into the seats at the small table James had commandeered, and I took charge of the conversation before they could trade any more insults. “I came here to meet you today because I wanted to say thanks for what you did for Lena.”
Understanding crossed his face. “I did what anyone would have done.”
“Even so, thanks.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Caiden added reluctantly, after I kicked him under the table.
James nodded. “No thanks necessary.”
None of us mentioned the other elephant in the room. The other person who had been there for Lena. James’ cousin, Tim Hyde, who had passed away in a tragic accident. But we were all sorry. Sorry about all the animosity between our families. Maybe if things had been different, if our families hadn’t been pitted against one another as rivals, we might have been friends.
Maybe.
We sat in a kind of awkward silence for a couple of minutes, before Caiden sighed loudly. “Arsenal’s chances aren’t looking very good after Sunday’s performance.”
James raised a brow. “Sorry, were you watching the same match I was, Chelsea boy? Your team can’t even manage one match without someone pretending to be injured.”
Then, somehow, we managed to spend the next thirty minutes in a light-hearted discussion about football, and Caiden and James managed not to kill each other.
It was a miracle.
Outside the main office of Alstone Holdings, Caiden and I leaned against a wall and tried to work out a plan of action.
“Okay, the car park has cameras, so we can’t do anything suspicious. I’m thinking we wait till Smith comes out, then follow him into the car park, and then I can get his plates. From there, I should be able to get his address details.”
Cade nodded. “This would be so much easier if we just asked Dad, you know.”
“I know, but I don’t want him involved. The fact he’s even hired Kryptos to begin with means he wants to keep this quiet.”
“Yeah, I know.” He glanced at me. “Do you even know what this guy looks like?”
“I have his company ID photo…” I thumbed through my phone to find it. “It’s kind of grainy, though.”
We both studied the image. A headshot of a grey-haired guy, nondescript, wearing glasses with thin wire rims.
“Hmm. We need to get a closer look. Let’s go inside.” Before I could reply, Caiden was strolling confidently through the doors of Alstone Holdings, and I had no choice but to follow him.
“Afternoon, Darren.” He inclined his head at the security guy standing next to the front desk. “Is my dad in?”
Darren stared at him, bemused, but he nodded. “What are you doing here?”
It was a fair question. We hadn’t exactly shown up here unannounced before, so I guess our sudden appearance was a surprise.
“Didn’t you hear? It’s bring your kids to work day,” I threw in, and Darren gave me an unimpressed look.
“I must’ve missed that memo.”
“Whatever. Are you going to let us in, or do I need to call my dad?” Caiden made a show out of pulling his phone from his pocket.
“No, no need to do that,” he said hastily, swiping his card to let us up. “Cathy, will you call Mr. Cavendish and let him know his sons are here to see him?”
The receptionist nodded, and I gave her a cheeky wink, making her blush.
“Do you have to flirt with every woman you see?” Caiden muttered, shaking his head at me.
“Yep.”
While Caiden headed in the direction of my dad’s office, I slowed my steps, discreetly attempting to peer into various offices, but there were so many rooms and desks it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
I stared around me, spotting the water cooler in the corner of the room. A young, pretty woman stood in front of it, filling a bottle.
Perfect.
“Hi.” I stopped in front of her, giving her my most charming smile. She smiled and blushed.
“Hi.” She gave me a thorough once-over, and I grinned. This would be easy. I hoped. “You don’t work here.”
“What gave it away?” I stepped closer. “My lack of a suit?”
“That, and the fact that you look like a model. You’re far too gorgeous to be stuck working in an office.”
I laughed at that. If only she knew that she was talking to one of the heirs to Alstone Holdings. This would be my workplace as soon as I graduated from Alstone College. Since she hadn’t recognised me, I could only surmise that she was new.
“I could say the sa
me about you.” I widened my grin, piling on the charm as she blushed again. “Would you be able to help me with something? I’m looking for an employee. A Mr. Martin Smith, works in finance. Would you happen to know where I could find him?”
At her enthusiastic nod, I almost sighed in relief but stopped myself at the last minute. “His office is through those doors there—” She pointed to the doors at the corner of the room. “—and down the corridor. Second door on the right, I think.”
“Thank you.” Backing away from her now that I had the information I wanted, I blew her a kiss and turned away.
When I was out in the corridor, I was suddenly struck with the thought that I hadn’t been interested in her. At all. My dick hadn’t even stirred, and she’d been young and gorgeous; normally, that would be enough for me to at least get her number. I frowned. When was the last time a girl had made my dick hard? When was the last time I’d been with a girl?
Fuck. I slumped against the wall, scrubbing my hand over my face. The answer to the first question was Lena…and I guess that also answered my second question.
I was in big trouble.
But I couldn’t think about that now. I had a shady finance guy to catch.
His office was easy enough to find, now I knew where it was. Making a snap decision, I knocked at the door. At the muffled “come in,” I swung the door wide and took a good look at him. Grey, swept-back hair, those thin, wire-rimmed glasses perched on a slightly hooked nose, and harsh lines on his face making him appear severe. My senses immediately went on to high alert. Maybe it was just a gut feeling, but there was something off about this guy.
“Sorry, wrong room.” I closed the door as quickly as I could and headed off to find my brother and my dad.
“By reducing the packaging, we can not only save money, but transport roughly 30 percent more goods, meaning more profit,” my dad was saying as I entered his room without knocking. Caiden’s head was bent over my dad’s computer, both of them intent on the screen, as my dad tapped on a chart with a silver pen.
“Makes sense. Did you look at the stuff I emailed you?”
My dad smiled proudly. “The eco transport company? I did, and I have a meeting set up with the director next month.”