Page 117 of Worth Every Penny

“Kate, this is Martin Brooks.” The sound of his voice is like a ghost crossing my path, and a slight shiver goes through me. Nico might have said there was nothing to worry about, but Martin’s sudden reappearance is odd and something about it still doesn’t sit well with me. “How’s that spa project coming along?”

“Oh, hi. Fine,” I stammer. “Just fine.”

“Good. When are you free to meet? I’m in town today. Could you do lunch?”

I glance at my calendar. It’s clear. “Yes.”

“Great. I’ll meet you at Valerie’s on Bread Street. Not glamorous. A sandwich. I’m short on time.”

“All right. See you then.”

“And Kate?”

“Yes?”

“I’m looking forward to dealing with Lansen again.”

The phone goes dead and a sense of dread, the source of which I can’t pinpoint, slowly unfurls in my chest.

The little sandwich bar is crammed with people, and I squeeze my way inside. The smell of coffee assaults me as I look around. There are a handful of plastic tables and Martin Brooks sits at one of them, a half-eaten sandwich in one hand, leaving me confused about why he’s already started eating.Why didn’t he wait for me? What kind of client lunch is this?

He tips his fingers in a half-wave when he notices me.

I dodge the other customers and slide into the chair opposite him.

“Got you a sandwich,” he says, gesturing to the wrap on the table. “Chicken Caesar salad.”

I eye the wrap, tied up neatly in white greaseproof paper. I don’t touch it. “Thanks.”

“I gotta come clean,” he admits, and my heart dips. “When I heard the rumours Jack was selling Lansen to Hawkston, I wasn’t happy.”

His small, pale blue eyes are staring at me as though I’ve deeply offended him. An icy chill spreads through me.

“Oh,” I say. “Sorry to hear that.”

He huffs. “That was my deal.”

The comment throws me for a loop. He’s clearly intending to rake over old ground here.

“Dad was as disappointed as you were—”

His braying laugh cuts me off, and bits of half-chewed food spray from his mouth. A piece hits my cheek and I draw back, wiping my face with my fingers. I want to get away from this man, and not just because he’s spitting bits of his sandwich on my face.

“Oh, Little Kate…”

Little Kate. My chest pinches at the diminutive. It’s so similar to what Nico calls me that I can’t help but think of him. But Martin’s version is laced with so much condescension that I want to slap him.

“Still clueless?” Martin’s lips twist, alerting me to the fact he’s enjoying the power play of knowing something I don’t. “Your dad was the one who fucked it.”

Shock sparks through every nerve ending and I jerk away from him, my shoulder blades hitting the back of my chair. “What?”

He nods, then takes a large bite of his sandwich. He keeps his beady eyes on me as he chews, ruminating like a cow before finally swallowing. “Didn’t they tell you?” He watches me, his eyes moving over my face as though he’s desperate for me to react. When I don’t, he leans in and every muscle in my body tightens. “You don’t know, do you?”

“They?” I croak out, having no idea who he’s talking about.

“Your brother and Nico Hawkston.” My heart drops to my stomach as Martin takes another bite of his sandwich, and I pray to God he chokes because I’m certain I don’t want to hear whatever he’s going to say next. My palms get sweatierwith every second he makes me wait. Eventually, he washes his mouthful down with a gulp of water. “Your father was a crook, Kate. Destroyed the company. Embezzled hundreds of thousands of pounds. Millions probably. Gambled it all away. Screwed me over.”

My breathing shallows. Nothing that’s coming out of his mouth makes sense. I blink at him.

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