Page 55 of Heart of The Night

The question was innocent, but it reminded me of the less glamorous parts of the afternoon. I kept my face composed.

‘It was productive.’ My thoughts pivoted. ‘And the call I just received – it was from a former Gastronomy Group employee. He wants to have dinner tomorrow.’

As I said the words, I could almost see the forthcoming complications entwining like a knotted legal argument. There were arrangements in place – Cara was meant to stay at my flat because Jason was throwing a bash at theirs. But now, this dinner…

Cara swung the door open wider, her expression unreadable as she moved further into the room. ‘Right, no problem. I’ll stay at my parents’ instead.’

The prospect of her staying elsewhere was tempting – a chance to breathe, to gather my thoughts in solitude – but I instantly curbed the impulse. Constantly seeking opportunities to put distance between us wouldn’t foster the enduring, stable relationship I was aiming for. On the contrary, it risked creating an environment of avoidance and uncertainty, a far cry from the safe, cherished space I wanted for her. It would be an act of self-sabotage, a path I could ill afford to tread.

‘No, I’d rather you stayed at mine,’ I said. ‘But it means I’ll have to leave you on your own for a few hours while I meet with him.’

Her shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug. ‘That’s all right. I’ve got plenty of work to keep me busy.’

‘Good.’

Her gaze lingered on me, my heart pounding at the silent scrutiny. Was she growing suspicious? Would she confront me? Pose a question I didn’t want to answer?

She finally broke the silence, her arms folding contemplatively. ‘An ex-employee, you say. How did you manage that?’

A wave of relief surged through me at her benign inquiry. To her, my subsequent exhale might have appeared as a regular sigh of weariness.

‘Lots of sleuthing,’ I said. ‘LinkedIn turned out to be quite valuable.’

‘LinkedIn? That’s an innovative approach.’

I made a gesture with my hand. ‘It worked out. Now it’s about seeing how much he’s willing to share.’

‘And his previous role was…?’

‘Strategy Manager.’

Her eyebrows shot up in a blend of surprise and respect. ‘Wow. Impressive find, Will.’

‘Potentially. It could also end up being a fruitless endeavour.’

She held up a hand, crossing her fingers. ‘Let’s hope for the best, then.’

Indeed, I was hoping – not just for this, but for everything else as well. Every decision, every interaction, was a gambit, and the stakes could not have been higher.

12 | the usual whirlwind

WILLIAM

In the subdued lighting of the Italian bistro, the murmur of private conversations melded with the chime of cutlery. The old brass clock, set above the bar, had yet to mark the arrival of seven. I had always cherished the age-old belief that punctuality lends credibility, so I had come early, keenly anticipating Robert’s entrance.

As the hands of the clock edged toward the appointed hour, a figure appeared. There he was, his shirt an unobtrusive shade of blue – a hue that somehow reminded me of an overcast day – and black trousers that had a touch of formality without fully committing. His dark skin shone under the dim light, accentuating each rounded contour of his handsome face. Weariness tugged at the corners of his eyes, yet they remained vigilant, darting about purposefully, likely searching for me.

I remembered his digital self, the one captured for LinkedIn. He seemed more youthful there, with fewer lines etching his face, and with darker hair. He was fifty-six, according to my research, but he clearly kept in good shape.

My attire was undoubtedly more formal than his – sharp and neat, perhaps making me appear the meticulous solicitor, even at an hour when most loosen their ties.

Robert’s approach was almost theatrical, a slow dance of recognition. His eyes, dark wells of contemplation, locked onto mine. There was a story there, a guarded tale, perhaps waiting for the right moment or the right listener.

‘Mr Simmons,’ I greeted, rising to grasp his hand, seeking trust not yet earned.

‘Rob’s fine.’

‘Then please call me Will. How are you?’

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