Page 18 of Worth Every Penny

He holds it out, stretching across the gulf between us.

My fight has drained away, and I find myself yielding to him as I take the contract. As soon as it leaves his grip and is safely in mine, he gives a sharp nod.

“Good night, Little K. It was good to see you again.”

The dismissal is a slap in the face. I freeze as Nico steps around me and pushes open the glass doors, disappearing back into the party, leaving me alone with the realisation that my world has shifted.

I thought my attraction to Nico Hawkston was long dead.

I couldn't be more wrong.

A chill breeze ruffles the papers in my hand, and the sheets flap open. Jack was right; the price Nico’s paying for the company is colossal. Multi-millions. A sum that will propel Jack right up The Rich List. It’s printed in black ink at the bottom of the second page, but it’s been scratched through.

Underneath, Nico has scrawled another figure.

I blink to check I’m seeing it correctly, because it looks like he’s increased his offer by exactly ten million pounds. I run my finger over the neat row of zeros as I try to drag coherent thoughts through the fog Nico has left behind.

Did he really think more money would make this better?

Anger is a yoke across my collarbones, crushing the desire that surfaced only seconds ago.That fucking bastard is trying to buy me.Still staring at the contract, I follow in his footsteps, his name sitting on the tip of my tongue. I’ll call him back and give him a piece of my mind.

“Kate?”

I jerk my head up. David Webster, my contact at Argentum, is leaning through the balcony doors, beaming at me. I’ve never met a happier looking man than David. Big red cheeks and a white beard. A perfect Father Christmas, if Father Christmas ran marathons, played regular tennis and had fifteen percent body fat.

At our spa meeting yesterday, he was more casually dressed. Tonight, he looks dapper: black tie suit and curly white hair brushed into a slicked-down side parting. “I thought it was you out here.”

Shit. My spa project depends on this man’s co-operation and I’m mentally all over the place.

I force a smile and slide the contract into my handbag. “David. Hi.”

“You must be freezing,” he says, holding the door open for me. “Come inside. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

My body responds like an automaton, marching inside on demand, but my mind is slipping in and out of focus. I fix my gaze on David, but the memory of Nico keeps pushing him out. Nico’s eyes, his touch, his hand-written scrawl on the contract...

A large man lingers just inside the door, a looming presence that fills the space with a cloud of disgruntled ill-intent so thickit seems to suck all the oxygen out of the air. If David is Father Christmas, this man is the Grinch. A knot forms in my stomach when I realise he’s waiting for us. He’s familiar, but I can’t place him.

“This is Martin Brooks,” David says. “Do you remember him?”

I mentally filter through possible identities for him, but come up short. Too much of my brain power is still whirring over Nico like a clogged up hard drive.

“Your father’s business partner,” David explains.

The memories click into place.Martin Brooks, of course.But what the hell is he doing here? He never showed up to Dad’s funeral, nor did he send a condolence card. I remember because Mum has never forgiven him. There is no way she would invite Martin anywhere, and I doubt Jack would because he doesn’t have anything to do with him either. The man dropped out of our lives eight years ago and I haven’t seen him since.

He’s aged a lot. His previously dark hair is now a salt and pepper grey, and he’s carrying more weight than he used to. He taps the lapels of his green tweed jacket. Jack’s invitation was very clear about the dress code—black tie. So either Mr. Brooks didn’t know or doesn’t care, or he never received an invitation in the first place.

“Hello, Mr. Brooks.”

Martin looks down his bulbous nose at me like I’m an insignificant fly in the ointment of his life. “Kate Lansen. What a pleasure.”

His slow, bored drawl makes it sound anything but. The knot in my stomach tightens. I trust David, but I can make no sense of Martin’s presence here.

“I didn’t know you still saw Jack,” I say, careful not to sound suspicious.

“I don’t. Wasn’t invited.”

I suck an inhalation. The awkwardness in the air is palpable.

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