Page 67 of The Wrong Promise

“While I enjoy fundraising and the galas, Lacey has shown me the benefits of helping other charities, especially those that support the homeless. I hope you all can join us for a few hours next year before coming home to be truly thankful for our blessings.”

“Wow,” I murmur. “I never imagined I’d see the day you would fundraise without being in a ballgown and diamonds. I’m proud of you, Mom.” I stand and round the table to hug her. One by one, everyone follows to hug Mom, Dad, and Penny’s parents.

Mom fans her hands at her face. “Oh please, you’ll make me cry and mess my makeup.” She composes herself and whispers, “Let us pray.” We link hands since Mom has always asked this of us. “Lord, thank you for all the blessings you grant us every day. May you bless this food, and may it nourish and sustain us and strengthen our hearts and minds to do your work. Thank you for surrounding us with family and friends and for guiding us toward gratitude today and every day. Amen.”

“Amen.”

Lola starts to serve the food, but Mom says, “Lola, we can manage. Please, you and Sergio should join us and enjoy the meal.”

After working with us for as long as I can remember, even when I was a child, Lola and our chef, Sergio, didn’t sit with us. Penny’s parents’ charitable lifestyle has influenced my parents.

Penny’s influence on my family is for the better. Her opinions matter. It’s why I can’t tell my brother everything, as he’ll tell his wife, and it will cause complications.

Late afternoon, I apologize for leaving early, citing work commitments—an excuse my father accepts. Instead, I’m heading home to text Zara before I do anything else. It’s after midnight in London, and she probably won’t see the message until morning, but I can’t wait until then. She is continually on my mind, and I need to speak to her… apologize if I upset her with the merger secrecy. I know I could trust her, but what I could not have is her voice in my head if she felt sorry for Tim or any of her workmates. Zara has a kind heart, and empathy cannot interfere with a business decision.

Just checking how you are. I know it’s your first Thanksgiving away from family and friends. I hope you had a good day.

My cell buzzes on the table and hope swells for it to be a reply from Zara.

It’s from Hayley. Why is she working on Thanksgiving?

Contracts are ready to proceed with the takeover. You need to sign off first. Hope you’re having a relaxing day.

This major takeover of Sir James’ company is a priorityand the main reason for my frequent visits to London. When it’s done and dusted, I can cut back on travel. My gut tightens because it’s the last thing I want to do. I enjoy being in London. I tap a quick reply.

Thank you, Hayley. Stop working on a holiday and enjoy time with your husband. FYI, on Monday, I’ll explore some residential markets in London. If this takeover happens with Sir James, we’ll have potential growth in the real estate sector of the investment company.

My phone buzzes again.

Take your own advice and relax!

I smile at her reply. Hayley knows me well.

My cell buzzes again, and I sit upright when I see it’s not from Hayley.

Today was just another day in London. I watched a movie and fell asleep early. Do you know when you’ll be back?

Is she asking so she can avoid me while I’m there?

Next week. Looking forward to it.

The following Thursday,I arrive at the penthouse around midday. Instead of heading to the office, I make calls from my study and Zoom into a meeting, blaming jetlag for my physical absence. I want to be here when Zara arrives and not caught up in meetings until seven o’clock tonight.

After barely sleeping on the flight and ignoring my mother’s advice, I’ll be ready for bed by seven. The more work I completed on the flight, the more time I will have with Zara.

I’m in the kitchen preparing dinner when the door opens.

She is pale as fuck, and my stomach flips. “What’s wrong?” I go to her and attempt to take her bag so I can help her sit down.

She holds up her hand. “Don’t come near me. I’m sick.”

I don’t give two fucks if she’s sick. She needs help. I place a hand around her back and walk with her to the couch. The heat radiates from her, even through her clothes. “You have a fever,” I tell her.

“No shit, Sherlock,” she snaps. “So you shouldn’t be this close to me.”

“I need to be close to help you,” I snap back. “Stop worrying about me. Is anyone sick in the office?”

She nods. “Everyone is too scared to miss work after your speech about work ethics. It started before the weekend, and now everyone in the office is coughing.”

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