Page 24 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 1-4

Quin’s mouth tightened. ‘You looked me up?’

Sadie nodded. ‘Afterwards, yes. Primarily to see if I could find you online, so I could keep tabs on you and Sol.’

Quin sounded a shade defensive. ‘I never lied to you.’

‘Maybe not,’ Sadie conceded, ‘but I never lied to you either. Maybe I would have had to if you’d pursued me and I hadn’t had the surfing accident and lost my memory.’

Quin sounded weary. ‘Why don’t you cut all this melodrama and tell me what really happened? You had the baby and you realised that you weren’t really cut out for the domestic life so you ran. And when you realised that I’d made my fortune you came back to see what you could get out of it. Why not just admit that and save us all some time? I’d respect you more if you did.’

Quin’s words landed like stinging barbs all over Sadie’s skin. The hurt landed heavily in her gut. ‘Because that’s not what happened.’

There was only one way to prove her story. ‘Can I use your computer?’

He frowned a little. ‘Okay.’

Sadie loosened her grip on the glass, only realising then how tense she was. She put it on the desk, and went around to the other side of the desk and sat in Quin’s chair.

She opened up the internet search engine and searched for a name and accompanying news articles. Then she wrote a name and a number on a piece of paper, and pulled up a biography of that person. She left the tabs open and stood up.

She pointed to the screen. ‘You can read news articles about the murder and the implosion of the organised crime gang that was run by the man who owned the house I worked in—the man I saw murder another man. Then you can ring the person who was my witness protection case officer. If you don’t believe she’s real, you can see her Scotland Yard biography, which I’ve also pulled up.’

She came around the desk again and stood in front of Quin.

‘That’s why I left that day, Quin. Because if I hadn’t, and if they’d tracked me down, we’d all be dead now. The only reason I’m here at all is because all the people involved with that man and his gang—anyone who would have needed to kill me, or anyone close to me—is now dead.’

Sadie turned and walked to the door, but before she opened it she stopped and turned back.

‘For what it’s worth, I haven’t been with anyone else since you. I wanted you to know that.’

Then she turned away again, opened the door and left.

Quin wasn’t sure how long he stood looking at the door. At the empty space Sadie had left behind.

Not Sadie. Lucy.

What she’d just told him was like something from a lurid American daytime soap script. Ridiculous. A fantasy. And yet the words that reverberated in his head were,‘I haven’t been with anyone else since you.’As if that was the most important thing.

And yet he couldn’t deny the frisson of satisfaction he felt at hearing that admission.

He shook his head.Focus.

Maybe,he thought now,maybe she’s actually mentally unwell.

Maybe she’d created this fantasy explanation and perhaps she even believed it—because she certainly seemed genuinely invested in it. So much so that he’d doubted his own disbelief a couple of times.

What was it they said? The more elaborate the story, the more likely it was to be true, because no one could remember that amount of false detail.

Quin shook his head. No. It was nonsensical. He’d never heard such a labyrinthine story in his life.

Eventually he broke out of his stasis and went and sat down behind his desk. He looked at his computer screen and saw a slew of press headlines and images of a crime scene. Men on the ground. Dead.

Notorious crime boss living in plain sight SLAIN by his own gang!

Quin got a jolt. He’d heard of this man. He’d been a well-known billionaire businessman and philanthropist. There’d always been murky rumours about where his wealth had originated and whispers of links to criminal activity, but nothing had never been proven.

There was mention of him being on every Interpol list, with a high reward for any information. And there was a small paragraph about an anonymous witness who had been put under protection for their own safety. A witness who could place him at the murder of Brian Carson. Another well-known criminal.

Breathless column inches described how the crime boss had lived in one of London’s leafiest and most exclusive suburbs—how he’d even socialised with royalty and sent his children to the best schools in Europe. How the authorities had watched him for years but hadn’t been able to pin anything on him because he’d had such a vast network of people to do his dirty work.

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