Page 54 of Heart of The Night

The lift’s display illuminated each floor we ascended, my breathing syncing with the rise, becoming more laboured as we climbed higher. As the tenth floor’s glowing numeral greeted us, my breath hitched in my chest. Andy threw me a concerned look, but I paid him no mind, my focus narrowing to a tunnel-visioned path as I stepped out.

I was half-resolved to ignore Cara’s presence should she be at her desk. It was a coward’s tactic, born out of the heartache of encountering her warm, adoring gaze – a gaze I knew I hadn’t earned the right to receive.

However, sidestepping her would be unwise. She would naturally expect a casual acknowledgement, and any absence of such would certainly raise questions. And so, with some reluctance, I scanned the open-plan area. As I had anticipated, Cara was there, her long brown hair cascading down her back as she intently studied her laptop screen.

The perfect opportunity presented itself: I could slip past unnoticed, later feigning concern about disturbing her work if confronted. But I decided against it, knowing it would be more prudent to act as usual. So, against my first instinct, I strode toward her, reminding myself of the bigger picture – this would all pay off in the end. At least, that was the hope.

Yet, just as she lifted her gaze and registered my approach, my phone vibrated, tucked away in the inner pocket of my suit jacket. An unknown number flashed on the screen. With a pointed look at Cara, I lifted the phone to my ear, signalling that our interaction would be delayed.

‘William Night speaking,’ I answered, my gaze still locked with Cara’s.

‘Hello, this is Robert Simmons,’ came the response.

Recognition lit up my mind. This was an important call. I pointed to my phone and then to my office, reassuring Cara with a look that this was an unexpected interruption, nothing more. She nodded in understanding, and I turned away to continue the conversation in private.

‘Mr Simmons,’ I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. ‘I appreciate you reaching out.’

‘Yes, well, when I saw your message, I figured I’d at least hear you out,’ he replied, a note of hesitation lacing his voice. But I could hardly blame him.

I had come across Robert Simmons during my investigation into Gastronomy Group earlier in the week, as I trawled through public LinkedIn profiles of former and current employees. It was an investigative tactic I had picked up over the years – uncovering inconsistencies in employee profiles often led to valuable insights. Amidst the predictable progression of careers, Robert’s departure as Strategy Manager nine months ago stood out like a sore thumb. Had he resigned, or had he been sacked? And why? His prior role in strategic planning meant he might have useful information regarding the company’s expansion tactics. In the carefully concealed world of corporate subterfuge, an insider’s perspective was worth its weight in gold.

Before making contact, I had cross-referenced his LinkedIn profile with a company report on Gastronomy Group, which I had requested from Day & Night’s business intelligence service for extra verification. Robert’s name was there, confirming his former employment and his role. With that assurance, I reached out to him on LinkedIn, sending a carefully worded invitation for a conversation. And now here he was, his hesitant voice hinting at untold stories.

‘I’ll get right to it, then,’ I said as I closed the door to my office. ‘As you read in my message, I’ve been doing some due diligence on Gastronomy Group, and your name came up as someone who might have valuable insights.’

Silence ensued. I could almost hear the cogs turning in his head.

‘What exactly do you want to know?’ he asked.

‘I’m interested in understanding their strategy, particularly their expansion tactics,’ I said, choosing my words carefully. ‘You were in a key position, and your input could be instrumental.’

Again, silence followed. I held my breath, realising that Robert’s next words might have a significant impact on my investigation.

‘This isn’t a conversation I’m comfortable having over the phone, Mr Night,’ he said, his tone suggesting he was weighing his options. ‘Would you be willing to meet for dinner? Say, tomorrow evening at seven o’clock?’

I was taken aback, but pleased. This was better than I could have hoped for.

‘Sounds like a plan, Mr Simmons. Where should we meet?’

The line went quiet again as he considered his response. I waited patiently, knowing the ball was in his court. After a moment, he gave the name of a restaurant, and we agreed to meet there the following day at the appointed time. As the call ended, I felt a flutter of anticipation in my chest. If this meeting went well, I would be one step closer to unravelling Gastronomy Group’s potentially underhanded tactics and safeguarding Fusion’s future.

With a sigh, I settled back into my chair and composed an email to Jian, keeping him updated about the development. Once that was done, I cast a hesitant glance toward my office door.

The choice was simple: stay put and continue working or step out to greet Cara. Given the task at hand, my decision was straightforward – better to utilise the time documenting the meeting with Gerard and Tom Clifford rather than stepping out for the sake of politeness. With that in mind, I powered up my desktop computer and plunged into the work.

I had lost track of time, immersed in the details of the Clifford meeting, when a soft knock broke my concentration. Dread gripped me at the thought of who might be on the other side. I took a deep breath, forcing my face to settle into a neutral expression.

‘Come in.’

Cara eased the door open, her soft features catching the light. Seeing the gentle slope of her small nose, punctuated by a constellation of charming freckles, sent a dull ache through my chest. Her lips curved in a small, intimate smile as our eyes met.

‘Just a quick one,’ she said, her voice as velvety and soothing as ever. ‘I ran into some issues with the compliance research while you were away. I’ve emailed you the details. Not sure if you’ve seen it.’

I nodded, swiftly shifting my attention back to the sanctuary of my screen. Holding her gaze had become an emotional ordeal. It felt like her eyes transformed into merciless mirrors, reflecting back at me the most hideous aspects of my character, whispering the insidious notion that I was unworthy of her. It was a marvel that I had not yet disintegrated under the crushing weight of her gaze.

‘I’ll take a look once I’m done with this report,’ I said, allowing a brief moment of eye contact.

‘Great. How’d the meeting go?’

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