Page 112 of Heartfelt Pain
“Like you said, I’m tired. I never set out to get into all of this, you know. Aunt Macy sprang it on me from the grave. You didn’t have to go after my old boyfriends. It’s quite rude actually.”
“In hindsight I should’ve fought harder for a meeting.”
“You are welcome to make me an offer.”
“So it is true?” She glances thoughtfully at my bandage wrist. “You took a tumble and thought a few things through?”
I laugh, amused. “I tripped on my heel. Though, I suppose I should be thankful you weren’t nearby to trip me down the stairs. I’ve enjoyed the time off. And life has changed.”
“Has it?” Joan asks.
“I don’t want to be tired.” To constantly whirl from meeting to meeting. To struggle with Ben. And now I need to carve out time to figure out what the fuck is going on with Isolde.
I stand up. “At the end of the day I’m a businesswoman, though. Make me an offer. We’ll see how itcompares to the others.”
Joan is much too skilled to show much of anything beyond a pursed lip.
When Aunt Macy died people lined up to try and take over the business. It’s lucrative.
“What?” I ask, innocently. “You’re not afraid of a little market competition are you?”
CHAPTER 26
Ren
Fujimori’s is quiet.
Jane spots me as I come in through the door that leads to the kitchen. She’s behind her hostess stand and her eyes light up before she glances at my arm. Her concern is motherly, but she doesn’t get a chance to come over when a couple comes in.
Ben is sitting at our table. He prefers sitting on a chair instead of in the booth. His hair is messed up and there’s a cup of coffee in front of him. It’s that late afternoon slump.
“Hi.” I lean in the doorway.
He startles before taking in my blazer and heels. “I thought you’d taken the rest of the week off.”
“Yeah, I am,” I assure him. “Something came up.”
“Something?”
“Figured out who’s killing all my ex-boyfriends.”
“What?” His head swivels, probably on the lookout for my bodyguard. “What do you mean? What happened?”
“Turns out the Stuarts want in on the business.”
He frowns, his whole face creasing. “The Stuarts?”
“You know, those British fucks.”
“Yeah.” Of course, he’s heard the name. They own most of London. A lot of boats full of products pass through customs without another look. “What the fuck do they think they’re doing?”
“Having fun.” I step back into the kitchen, grabbing coffee. I want something in my hands so I may as well get a bit of caffeine. “It’s a bit of cloak and dagger,” I say when I come back. Ben motions to the empty booth but I linger in the doorway. “I think I know where Leopold’s dramatics come from.”
“Leopold the Idiot?”
I wrinkle my nose, though the coffee in my hands smells divine. “Yeah, turns out it might be in the gene pool.”
Don’t get me wrong. The Stuarts didn’t acquire all their power and wealth from luck. They’re aristocratic, Cambridge-bred twats.
