Page 138 of Worth Every Penny

He shoves his phone in his pocket and looks at me like he’s about to say something, but the tension in his jaw, the rage in his eyes, doesn’t look inviting. Whatever’s up with him, I don’t want anything to do with it. I walk past before he can speak.

“Kate, wait.”

My heart lurches and I turn back to face him. “What?”

His gaze darts all over me before settling on my eyes. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

Nico Hawkston, speechless?

“I’m already nervous, Nico. You’re making it worse.”

He rubs his palm over the back of his neck, blowing air from inflated cheeks as though he’s taking a moment to gather his thoughts. When he speaks, I’m sure it’s not what he originally intended to say. “Good luck.”

Unease slithers through me, but I don’t have time to question it. I turn away and cross the lobby, entering the meeting room before I lose my nerve.

Inside, the chairs are arranged in rows. I take my place at the podium at the front and look out at the audience. Everyone at both Lansen and Hawkston who’s ever worked on the Knightsbridge spa project with me, is here. Matt and Seb sit in the front row. Even Charlie is here. He meets my eye and smiles, giving me a subtle thumbs up. It’s such a childish gesture, andhis expression full of genuine encouragement, that I feel a flush of warmth towards him.

David Webster is also in the front row, beside Martin Brooks. Martin sits with his hands clasped over his belly, and eyes me with a horrid self-satisfied smirk that makes my skin itch. I don’t know when he’s planning on instigating his new plan, but if I don’t want him to start shouting about Dad, or Nico and Jack, then I need to pretend everything’s fine.

Nico has this in hand. He’ll make sure the project is yours, I swear it. He knows what it means to you.

Jack’s words spark in my mind, but they don’t reassure me. The Nico I just saw outside the bathroom didn’t look like he had anything in hand. He still hasn’t followed me. Is he coming to this meeting? I don’t know if his presence would make it better or worse, but the tiny flame of hope that he’ll be here is fading.

The audience quietens down as I introduce the project.

Applause ripples through the room and the lights fade so my slides can be seen more clearly on the screen.

I’ve barely opened my mouth to speak again when the door opens. Nico slides in, bows his head at me, and takes the empty seat next to his brothers. He’s rolled his sleeves back down, and the gold cufflinks are back in place at the wrists. It’s marginally better than before, but he still looks like a man who’s been stretched way too thin.

My heart rate ramps up, and suddenly I feel like I’m presenting for something much more important than a development project.

Our eyes meet in the semi-light, and his gaze touches my skin like an electric current. All his attention is on me, and he sits upright in his seat. He doesn’t smile, nor does his expression reveal any emotion.

Does he really have this all in hand? Can he guarantee the project is mine?

I desperately want it to be true. I want Nico to have my back. I want him to protect me.

I want him to care.

I want to be able to trust him.

My mouth is dry, and I lift the water glass from the podium and gulp down half the contents.

And then I begin, performing as though my life is on the line. There’s no one else who knows this project as well as I do, except perhaps Nico himself.

When it’s finally time to stop, the applause is polite but enthusiastic.

“Thank you,” I say. “And now I’d like to welcome David Webster, Managing Director of Argentum.”

David gets out of his chair and paces towards me. His jaw is clenched, a marked frown deepening the wrinkles between his brows. I shake his hand, but he doesn’t meet my gaze.

Something’s not right.

He takes his place at the podium as I sink onto a nearby chair.

“This project has a key place in my heart,” he begins. “I’ve been on the team since its inception, working with Lansen in the early days. I confess when Gerard Lansen, Kate’s father, and Martin Brooks”—he gestures to Martin, who lifts his hand in a lazy wave—“originally proposed this idea to me, I wasn’t convinced it had legs. But Kate’s unceasing enthusiasm has shown me that this is a project to stand behind. Argentum has aspirations to open four sites across the UK, targeting Knightsbridge first. After that we’ll open in the East End, Edinburgh and York. It’s ambitious, but exciting.”

He wipes his brow and takes a shaking breath. “It is, therefore, with a heavy heart that I must tell you that we have made the decision not to progress the project with the Lansen-Hawkston team.”

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