Page 38 of The Grand Duel

I know him, though.

The bastard partially responsible for breaking my favourite pair of shoes.

“Charles…this is Lissie,” Edna probes, clearly trying to get a shred of emotion out of the man.

He looks to her and then me and back to her again, then clears his throat as if he has a bone lodged in it preventing him from talking. “Hi,” he says, deep and unnaturally.

“Is everything okay?” Edna asks, stepping closer. “Is it your nose? I said you were coming down with something. You’re sounding nasally.”

“I’m fine,” he snaps at her, and I rear back.

He looks between the two of us again. “I’m sorry, Ed.” He nods towards a side door. “A word.”

I raise my brow and look to Edna who mouths, “I’m so sorry,” as she follows him through the door. I lean back against the desk and wait.

What an ass.

If I didn’t take this job, I could still save up enough money to find myself somewhere to live.

But then, if I did take it, my take home would be like nothing I’ve ever earned.

I smile, thinking about our Heartlands home.

“I wish we lived there.”

“Where?”

“In that house with the mummy and daddy.”

Jovie was eight when she told me her dream of living in the house we’d walk past on our way home from our parents’ factory.Heartlandswas its name. A three-story home with a front garden that was always full of love and life.

It became my dream.

Our independence.

A big fuck-you to Mum and Dad.

I guess it all rides on my tolerance of Charles Aldridge.

I sniffle and turn, searching the desk for a tissue. I find a box and pluck one out and wipe at my nose.

“Please don’t be getting sick,” I pray out loud.

I spot a photo on the sideboard and walk over to it, picking up the frame.

It’s a photo of two children. One slightly older, a toddler, sitting on a sofa with a newborn baby held in his small arms.

His kids?

I scan the office whilst I have the chance and spot another on his desk. I place down the one in my hand and quickly reach for the other, sneaking a look.

A frown takes over my face when I see the picture. It’s sweet, really. A father and his child. A little girl, maybe one year old. They’re on a boat, the child wearing a bright orange baby life jacket whilst he’s all shirtless and gorgeous, the sun kissing his skin and making it glow. He has the child in his arms, heads mashed together, both of their smiles wide and…and real. It’s such a genuine smile it makes my own grow.

“Sorry about that, Lissie.”

I turn with the picture to find Edna shutting the door. I quickly put my hand to my side, tucking the frame in behind my leg.

“It’s fine,” I assure her.

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