Page 4 of Marko

Yep, keep telling yourself that! The annoying little voice in my head sneered at me.

Tutting at it, I decided not to dwell on what exactly it was trying to tell me and pushed all thought of romance, or my lack thereof, to the back of my mind and turned my thoughts back to the task at hand. Discovering if there were any more enemies hiding in the shadows was far more important than thinking about such nonsense.

After some more digging, I learned that Melissa Martin was twenty-five years old, so a year younger than me, and studying photography at a local college.

As I looked at her driving licence picture, my breath caught. The woman staring back at me was drop dead gorgeous. With long black hair and bright green eyes, pale skin, and full pouty lips; she was just my type. Very sexy!

What the hell had she to do with that slimeball Mathieson? Surely she wasn’t his business partner? Or a lover? Biting my lip, I studied her photo. She looked too young but who knew? Mathieson had swung both ways, and he liked his lovers young, so she could be. The thought sickened me. Why else would she be getting a large sum of money from the bastard, though? Maybe there was another explanation?

Narrowing my eyes, I stared at her picture.

Who are you, beautiful?

As I grabbed my backpack and the gear I’d need; I bit back a smile. Whoever she was and whatever her connection to Mathieson, I’d soon find out.

My heart sped up, but I put it down to adrenaline at the thought of closing in on another potential enemy, and not the fact that I would really like to get to know Miss Martin intimately. If she turned out to be an innocent party, I hoped that getting to know her would be a real pleasure for both of us, but if she turned out to be our enemy, she was in for a whole world of trouble because beauty or not, woman or not, I wouldn’t let her threaten the peace my family had just found.

CHAPTER 3

MELISSA

LONDON - THURSDAY – THE BIOLOGICAL

Leaving Fitzpatrick & Son’s office, I clutched the large, padded envelope to my chest, feeling stunned at all I had just learned. As the fresh air hit me, I stopped, unable to go any further. Lost in my thoughts I stood there on the pavement as the bitter wind whipped around my face and neck and I didn’t even notice.

It had been less than a year since I lost the man I called dad, but in my hands was a letter from my biological father. I knew very little about him and strangely enough, I had never given him much thought. Until today.

Mathieson. Aiden Mathieson.

The name swirled in my mind. The name of my father. My biological father. Or so Mr Fitzpatrick informed me. Which was strange because that wasn’t the name my mum had told me.

My mum said that my biological father was called Simon Hughes, and they had met at school and had a relationship in their final year. They were together for about a year before my mum caught him with another girl a few weeks prior to the end of their last term. Then she discovered that the girl wasn’t the first. He had been cheating on her throughout their relationship. It broke her heart. And that’s why I’d never wanted to know anything else about him.

Mum hadn’t known she was pregnant until a few weeks after they had split up. By then, school was over and he was heading off to university, so she never told him about me, and we had always thought he’d been unaware of my existence. Apparently not.

And yet, he had never contacted me in all these years. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. My brows furrowed and tears sprang to my eyes, and not just from the icy sting of the wind.

Sniffing hard, I pulled the collar of my coat tighter around me with one hand and clutched the envelope with the other. My thoughts were a jumbled mess as I tried to understand what Mr Fitzpatrick had told me. Aiden Mathieson was missing, presumed dead, and that was why he’d contacted me.

Who was this man whose blood ran through my veins and what had happened to him? What had caused him to disappear? Or who? He had obviously changed his name at some point. Why? And did that have anything to do with him going missing? Or was whatever had caused his disappearance something else entirely?

A sense of dread made me shudder. Did I even want to know?

Yes, I had to admit, I did. I was curious to know more. That one question plagued me as I waited in the cold for the taxi to arrive.

Why didn’t he ever get in touch?

Even though I had been happy with my real dad, that still hurt. The thought sent a flash of guilt through me, but I pushed it aside. My dad wouldn’t have wanted me to feel guilty for being curious about who my biological father was, and curiosity meant nothing. There was nobody who could ever replace the man I loved, who was there for me whenever I needed him, who taught me everything I knew, and who showed me the value of unconditional love.

It was difficult to imagine what life would have been like without him.

When my mum had told her religious parents she was pregnant, they disowned her. Thankfully, her older sister, who was a teacher, took her in and Mum could go to college after my birth and gain some qualifications. She then got a job as cabin crew with British Airways, where she met a charming older man called Oliver Martin. He swept her off her feet.

It was no wonder. He was tall, handsome, rich, and had the air of a refined gentleman. Mum was a beauty with her long black hair and bright green eyes, so she caught his eye immediately. They fell fast and hard and were soulmates. Within a few months of meeting, they were married, and he adopted me. Their relationship was of the type I longed to have myself someday.

Dad’s official profession as an arts dealer meant we travelled a lot. We kept an apartment building here in London, but most of the time we lived abroad. It was a great life, and we had lots of money as I grew up. Because of travelling so much, I was mainly home-schooled. My mum had a knack for languages and my dad, well he was exceptionally intelligent and had a knack for everything, so I was very well educated.

Oliver Martin was the best husband and dad anyone could have wished for, and life with him was full of love and excitement. Mum and I had been lucky to have him in our lives.

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