Page 38 of Every Silent Lie
“Exactly.”
“But that’s dangerous.”
“Eggs in one basket and all that?”
“Clever boy.” I find Holcot at the end of the bar, a harem of women surrounding him. It’s no surprise; he’s famously handsome and notoriously charming. He’s also a ball-breaker of a businessman. “You’ve got competition,” I muse, nodding to all of the women.
“I’ve also got you.”
“Excuse me?” I jerk to a stop, so abruptly, my drink spills over the side of my glass, splashing both of us. “Is that why you brought me? As a piece of arse to bat my lashes for you?”
“Fucking hell, Camryn,” he mutters. “You see the best in everyone, don’t you?” He licks the back of his hand, lapping up my spilled drink. “Elderflower?”
“What of it?”
Hands up, he backs off. “I’ve brought you because you’re brilliant at what you do.”
“Sure,” I mutter. I should be flattered. It’s been a while seen I’ve felt seen. Until Dec. “And I’m not exactly being brilliant at the moment because you’re undoing everything I’m doing.”
“Let’s keep it casual,” Thomas says, ignoring my jab. “I’ll crack a few jokes, you’ll laugh.”
“When have you ever heard me laugh?”
“You’ve never heard my jokes.”
I snort as Thomas leads the way. “And for the record, it’s hard to see the best in everyone when humans are such wankers all the time. Phillip West case in point.”
“I don’t think he’ll go quietly.”
“He will if he knows what’s good for him.”
“You terrify me.” Thomas slaps on an embarrassingly big smile and holds my elbow.
“What are you doing?” I ask, looking down his hold on me.
He frowns and quickly removes it. “Showing an alliance.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“God, you’re in a pleasant mood.” He waves a hand out in an over-the-top gesture to lead on, and I do, eyeing a tray of champagne as I pass, resisting the urge to switch to alcohol. “As always,” he adds on a whisper I’m sure I’m not supposed to hear. “Holcot!” Thomas’s velvet-green arms spread wide, his face lighting up like the Blackpool Illuminations, courtesy of the fairy-light-encrusted angel hanging over the bar behind Holcot.
My gaze travels the full length of it, taking in every one of the lights that look like little drops of pure melted gold ready to drip onto us mere mortals below. And I wonder . . .
Do they exist?
Angels?
Are they unsullied and serene? Do they float above us in a place where only the kind and unspoiled are welcome? Do they watch over us? Silently guide us?
“Camryn?”
I blink back the black dots in my vision, finding Thomas before me next to Holcot. He’s even more handsome up close and in the flesh. And considerably younger. Mid-forties, perhaps? I had him as mid-fifties. I notice his hand is extended. “Pleasure,” I say, taking it and shaking firmly. “Sorry, I was just admiring the angel.”
He cranes his head back, stretching his throat to look up at it. “Stunning, isn’t it?” His eyes drop. “I would say it’s not the only stunning thing around here, but I fear I’m on the edge of being politically incorrect.”
“You must be talking about the endless middle-aged women that look like sugar plum fairies gone wrong.”
A sharp bark of laughter erupts, his hand still holding mine. I can feel Thomas’s stupid grin on me. For God’s sake. “Very good,” Holcot says. “I’m Edward.”
