Page 157 of The Penalty

“Not quite.”

He looked from me to the TV and back. “Xavier looks bored. You have nothing to worry about.”

I laughed, giving my best friend a playful shove.

Max and Killian hung around for another hour while Bennet spent his time by the windows taking call after call. I declined the boys’ dinner invitation, saying I had a few last minute details to iron out before tomorrow’s game.

Nerves cascaded through my stomach. I could tell Killian knew I was hiding something and was bursting at the seams to ask why Bennet showed up unannounced. I didn’t want to tell him or Max about my plan until all the pieces were in place. Besides, I hadn’t told them what happened in London yet.

After the boys left, I turned to Bennet. “A heads up would have been helpful.”

“And ruin the surprise?” he grinned.

“You sound like Xavier.” I folded my arms. “I would have assumed you’d be at the game. Did you just arrive in New York?”

“I’ve been here since yesterday.”

Interesting.

“Are you staying with Hannah?”

Apparently that question went over like a lead balloon. Bennet’s expression iced slightly. “I leave tonight but wanted to see you first.”

“Did you get what I need?”

“Mostly.” He pulled a USB drive from his pocket. “Still working on a couple things but grab your laptop.”

My heart skittered like a nervous bunny when I retrieved my computer. Either this information will put the Jordan situation to rest for good, or it’ll open an entirely new, even more unpleasant situation.

“There’s one item of notable interest,” Bennet said, plugging in the USB. “I suggest starting with the McKennie family file.”

Shooting him a skeptical look, I pulled up the finances folder. Their family history served no purpose at this time. I wanted financial records to prove once and for all that Jordan lied to me.

At first blush, the summary revealed nothing spectacular, aside from a couple of political scandals that had been covered up. Tempting, but not the knock-out punch I needed.

I opened a folder labeled investments and searched the files for mentions of my dad or his company.

“Jesus,” I muttered, noticing their net worth of one billion pounds. Then I saw their titles. “He’s a Duke?”

“The title is hereditary, much like mine.” The corner of Bennet’s mouth curved. “One might say we’re a select elite within the elite.”

Before I got swept up in the minutiae of British aristocracy, I refocused on searching the financial documents. Several revealed Jordan’s interest in purchasing my family’s cottage. My jaw clenched. He’d certainly done his research on Briarcliff Cottage, including its estimated worth.

Why he wanted it remained a mystery.

Shaking off the unpleasantness, I continued my search.

One record of interest popped up from thirty years ago. Samuel McKennie did invest with my dad’s firm but the amount was less than one hundred thousand. Not exactly investing heavily for one of the wealthiest families in the United Kingdom.

I started another search, just in case I missed something. No additional records showed any financial connections.

Relieved, I clicked on the family file.

Again, nothing out of the ordinary, just a rundown of their lineage, including how long they’ve held a seat in Parliament’s House of Lords. There was also information about the boating accident. Jordan’s mom and dad were killed off the coast of Cyprus almost twelve years ago.

I scrolled through some photos of the couple. They appeared happy. Then again, pictures have the ability to convey a false narrative. I knew nothing about these people other than their son was a despicable human.

After pouring through as many files as possible, I couldn’t find anything else of significance.

---