by Sofia Grey
She blushed prettily. “I’m staying at Karl’s at the moment.” She hesitated, then looked awkward. “I know I said there was nothing between us, but that’s changed. I was a bit embarrassed when you rang on Saturday. I know why you did it, and I’m touched you’re looking out for me, but I don’t want Karl getting the wrong idea about you and me.”
Nick stirred his drink and played for time as he decided what to say. “How do you mean, the wrong idea?”
“Well... you know. I told him we were friends.”
Nick kept his voice ultra-casual. “So he doesn’t know about Paris?”
“No.” Her voice was shocked. “I’m assuming Lara doesn’t either.”
“Of course not. It’s our secret.”
She nodded, her gaze fixed on his face.
“I can’t believe you’re with Karl.” It sounded bitchy, and Nick hurried to soften his outburst. “I wouldn’t have thought he was your type.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s such a nerd.”
She narrowed her eyes. “He’s lovely. And it’s not like you to be mean. What’s got into you?”
He didn’t know. Was it because Adele reminded him of more carefree days? A time when he didn’t have the looming responsibility of fatherhood? Discontent gnawed at him. “Do you ever think about us?” he blurted out and saw confusion on her face.
“Us?”
“If we missed out on something, back in Uni? If we should have stayed together?”
He’d gone too far. He saw it in her pursed lips and the way she sat back in her seat.
“Nick, I can’t tell you how much I value your friendship. How you looked after me in Paris. How you’ve always been in my corner.”
“But...?” He wasn’t sure he wanted her to finish.
“But that’s all. We’re friends. We had our moment, years ago, and we can’t turn the clock back. I have Karl now.” Her voice was gentle. “Even if it doesn’t work out with him, there’ll be someone else. We can’t ever be more than this, but we can be the best friends ever.”
She was right. Nick was being a giant ass, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.
****
Jordan made time on Monday evening to have his usual squash match with Nick and then catch up with Marcus, who’d only be in town a couple more days. While they’d had many meetings in and out of the office, all were about work. Jordan wanted the chance to kick back with his friend. There was also something he wanted to ask him.
They walked to what had been their regular pub, back in the day. As they sat over a couple of pints of German lager, Marcus opened the conversation. “This is good beer, but don’t you miss Houston sometimes, J?”
Tricky question. “Not so much these days, although the weather in Rhosneigr leaves a lot to be desired. Come to think of it, the weather in London isn’t much better.”
Marcus glanced outside, at the dark night beyond. “It always seems to be foggy here in winter. I’d never seen fog like this until I came to London.”
Time to bite the bullet. “I’m not planning on staying in London any longer than we need to. I’d like to get back to a freelance basis soon.” That was the story Jordan planned to use for his exit from the business. “Are you interested in running the Europe operation again?”
“I’d rather stay in Houston. Louisa and Ted are there, and Marianne is in a good position.” He sat back and frowned. “She’d probably love to come back, though. Maybe I should suggest it.”
Jordan leaned forwards. “Do that. You’re the only one I trust to manage Europe. How would you feel about leaving Ted?”
Marcus took a long drink of his beer, and then waved to the barman for two more. “It might be easier in some ways.” A look of pain flickered across his face. “You know Louisa is seeing someone? An investment banker she met through Ted’s kindergarten.”
Jordan nodded. “He’s a widower, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. His wife died of cancer, a couple of years ago. He’s got a little girl the same age as Ted. They play together, apparently.” He glanced at Jordan. “The girl and Ted play together, not Louisa and the banker. Well, not yet anyway.” He took another sip of beer. “He’s loaded, this guy. Old Houston family. They have a house on Cape Cod for the summer, and an apartment in Nice.”
“Are you dealing with that okay?”
Marcus looked surprised. “I’m pleased for her. If she finds someone else, I won’t feel so guilty about Marianne. It could make it harder to see Ted, but that was the gamble I took when I left Louisa. I knew what I was risking. And if she re-marries, Ted will have a full-time father figure in his life.” This last statement sounded hollow.
Jordan figured Marcus was putting on a brave face. “Why don’t you come over for dinner one night this week? You can see Poppy and spend some time with us. We’ve got Alex and Sylvie staying, but that shouldn’t stop you.”
“I might. Thanks. Sylvie’s okay now?”
“She’ll be fine. It was stress and exhaustion.” This was the public story behind Sylvie’s collapse at TM-Tech. Nobody needed to know any different.
“Let me know when it’s good for you guys.”
Jordan toasted him with his beer. There’d been such a rift between them, he was happy to be making small steps towards healing it.
Jordan’s head was banging again tonight, despite his now usual dose of Nurofen in the evening. He ended up wandering around the apartment in the middle of the night, looking for another dose of painkillers. His last packet was empty. To his despair, there were none in the bathroom cabinet or the kitchen where Kate normally stored the first-aid supplies. The pain made him feel sick, and it scared him how quickly it came on sometimes. Other nights were more settled—with a low level of pain he managed to tolerate. And so far, he’d managed to hide it from Kate.
He settled for a large glass of malt whisky and found a comfortable position at the kitchen table while he waited for the drink to kick in and dull the pain. He closed his eyes and focused on relaxing. He knew it hurt more when he was tense.
He heard another chair scraping on the floor and raised his head, momentarily disoriented. It was Sylvie, looking pale and anxious.
“Hey, Sylvie. Having trouble sleeping?” Jordan winced, as a shaft of pain darted across the side of his head.
“Yeah.” She huddled into her bathrobe and shivered. “How about you?” It looked as though she’d been crying.
He managed a smile. “Yeah. Do you want a drink?” He gestured towards the bottle of whisky.
After a moment’s hesitation she fetched a glass and poured herself a small measure. “I don’t normally drink whisky.”
The malt was starting to soothe Jordan’s pain, and he tried to focus on rational conversation. “Why aren’t you sleeping? Is it the dreams still?”
She looked down into her glass. She was about to speak when he heard a quiet footstep in the hallway. His heart sank. Please don’t let it be Kate. He couldn’t hide his pain from her in this moment.
He was spared. It was Alex, looking bleary eyed. He blinked as he walked into the kitchen. “Having a party?” He yawned, and then massaged Sylvie’s shoulders, staring at Jordan with ill-concealed worry.
Sylvie turned and stood, moving into the circle of his arms. “I dreamed of the fire again.” Her voice was croaky. “It was everywhere. All around us. We had no way out. And I could hear Rico yelling. He was telling me to get out.” She huddled closer to Alex. “It was too real.”
Alex held her, but his gaze was on Jordan. “Do you think you can go back to sleep again now?”
“Maybe. Are you coming as well?”
“Yeah. In a minute. I want to talk to Jordan first.” He picked up her glass. “Take this with you. I’ll be right there.” He kissed her, and she drifted back to the bedroom.
Jordan took a sip of his malt. The pain was bearable now. He could probably move and talk at the same time.
“Bad tonight, huh?” Alex’s voice was low.
�
�I’ve had better.”
“You’re still going to wait before you do anything about it?”
“I wish I hadn’t told you. I could do without you nagging at me.”
“I’m not going to, but if I can do anything, you must tell me. Anything.” He stressed the word.
Jordan was deathly tired, with no idea what Alex was talking about. “Go back to bed. I’ll go soon.”
Instead, Alex pulled out Sylvie’s chair, took a glass, and poured himself a small drink. “I’m awake now. I’ll stay here a little longer, if it’s all the same to you.”
Jordan resumed his semi-comfortable position. “Thanks, Alex.”
“For what? Drinking your best malt?”
“For being here.”
****
Alex was putting off the call to Frankie. There was a real risk he’d say things he’d later regret. He needed to be composed and ready for this conversation.
He contemplated it all day Monday, letting it sit at the back of his mind while he busied himself elsewhere. The visit to Callum was promising. Daisy was making great progress with him, and he allowed Sylvie to pick him up. Margie reminded Alex that Callum was nervous around men, so Alex didn’t get too close. Sylvie, while still grouchy and restless, was behaving more normally.
The day went well, but then Sylvie had her nightmare again, and Alex found Jordan struggling with his pain in the kitchen. Tomorrow. He’d make the call tomorrow—on Tuesday.
He needed to be somewhere private, so he went down to the underground car park, where their car was.
Frankie was angry at first. He yelled at Alex for not being in touch, and for messing up his schedule—he’d been forced to rearrange interviews and a press conference—and he was fretting about the video-shoot dates.
Alex let him rant, waited until he slowed down, and then went on the attack. “How long have you been supplying Sylvie? You know what I’m talking about.”
There was a pause. To his credit, Frankie didn’t try to deny it. “You should know Sylvie approached me.”
Alex waited and forced his anger back down. “Sylvie nearly died. She accidentally OD’d on speed. I don’t believe she appreciated what you gave her.”
“I warned her about the dose. One in the morning, and another in the afternoon, if she needed it. You can’t OD on two tabs.” He paused, then continued in a mild voice. “She was only doing what you’ve done before. Many times.”
Alex gripped the phone so hard, his knuckles turned white. He covered the mouthpiece, while he took a deep breath. “If we’re going to continue with the band as it stands now, I need three assurances from you.”
“Go on.”
“One, you never give anything to Sylvie again. Not even vitamins. Two, if she asks you for anything, you tell me immediately.” Alex took a moment. Was this the right thing to do? God only knew, but it was the only option. “And three, I need a short-term supply of morphine, enough for four weeks’ moderate use. If we agree on these, this conversation can end right here and never be referred to again.”
“How soon do you want the morphine? I’m assuming oral?”
It was as though he’d asked Frankie to buy a different brand of coffee. Perhaps in his world, that’s all the significance it had. “Saturday. Friday night if you can manage it.”
“That should be fine.”
Alex waited. He didn’t trust himself to speak straight away.
“So, on to work matters,” said Frankie. “When are you planning to return to the studio?”
“Thursday night or Friday. We’ll need a little settling-in time with Callum, so keep our schedule free until Monday.”
They talked more about business. The video shoot was planned for next week, and they’d keep to those dates. Sylvie was stressing about her first video, and the sooner it was over, the better.
Alex disconnected and dropped the phone onto his lap. He felt sickened. He should have sacked Frankie for this, terminated him as their manager and brought in someone else. But as things stood, Alex was condoning his actions and asking him to continue in the same manner. What had he done?
Chapter Thirty-One
Lara kept thinking about the look on Nick’s face when Jordan mentioned Adele and Karl. She didn’t imagine it, but what did it mean? He said they were friends from Uni. Adele was fond of him, and that was obvious from when they went to her apartment. Lara had thought then they looked good together.
She hated the idea that was taking hold.
She wasn’t the sort of person who sat back and let things happen, so she decided to do a little digging. Discreetly, of course. Nick was offsite with clients all day, Tuesday. There was no chance of him interrupting.
Her first idea was to review the hotel bills from their Paris trip. She asked Accounting for all the invoices from the past two conferences, to make it a more generic request. While that was being processed, she printed Nick’s calendar for the past three weeks, and then Adele’s, to see how many times they met up during the day. Lara especially focused on the period while she was away at her mum’s and then up at Sylvie’s.
There were lots of coffee sessions, work-related meetings, and a few games of squash. That was a shock. Lara had no idea they played together. She thought Nick only played Jordan. With a growing sense of unease, she requested to see a selection of itemised bills for their phones. When she cross-matched the bills, there were a large number of calls between them, and plenty were outside working hours.
This didn’t mean anything. It was circumstantial evidence, nothing more. What she needed to figure out was what he’d been doing while he was home alone.
There was one person she could talk to. She went in search of Karl. He was unpacking boxes of computer equipment in the datacentre, which meant they could talk in relative privacy.
“Hi, Lara. What can I do for you?” He smiled up at her from the floor. He was carefully unwrapping components.
She leaned against the wall. “I want to pick your brain. I’ve an idea about finding the mystery brunette Jason took home that night.”
He looked interested. “Go for it. We’ve not had any luck so far.”
“Wasn’t that the night you all went to the Ambassador?”
“No, it was the XP Club. Adele had been dancing all night with some Russian guy. I think Jason got pissed off that she was ignoring him.”
“That was when Nick went home early? So he wasn’t there when Jason picked her up?” Lara was fishing, but Karl didn’t seem to realise.
“Early? No, the opposite. Everyone else had gone, there was only me, Adele and Nick left, and he was hammered. It must have been nearly three in the morning. Jason was wrong; she didn’t take the Russian guy home at all. She dumped him and said she’d take Nick home instead.”
“Oh right. I’m getting confused.” Lara tried to sound bland.
“Well? What’s your idea?”
Shit. Lara hadn’t thought this far ahead. She improvised. “I was wondering about setting him up with someone. Maybe a plain-clothes policewoman. You know—as bait?”
Karl stared at her, baffled. “It’s a bit random. Don’t you think? And we’ve already been back there with his photo to show the bar staff.”
She pulled a face. “Maybe you’re right. Stupid idea.”
He carried on unpacking. Lara stared at the racks of equipment and tried to come up with inspiration. “They’re good friends, aren’t they? Nick and Adele? I mean, they’ve known each other for years.”
He eyed her warily. “Yeah. They were at Uni together.”
“Do you ever wonder if there’s any history between them? Did Adele say anything?”
The look he gave her was scathing. “Adele said they were friends, and that’s good enough for me. Why don’t you ask your husband?”
Her cheeks heated under Karl’s glare. She wanted him on her side, not alienated. “Karl, he seems to be overly fond of Adele. I want to know if I should be concerned.”
He stood, brushing f
lecks of dust from his trousers. “I trust Adele. And I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and forget this conversation ever happened. Okay?”
She had to admit defeat. Back at her desk, she pounced on the hotel bills, efficiently supplied by the accounts team, and marked them up with a highlighter pen. The only oddities she could find, were in regard to breakfasts. They flew out on Sunday evening. Adele didn’t bother with breakfast on Monday or Tuesday, but had a large room service breakfast on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Nick had a large breakfast on Monday and Tuesday, but nothing the rest of the week.
As though he had his breakfast in her room.
There was a day when she phoned Nick first thing but Adele answered. When was that? She checked her phone log, but remembered anyway. It was Thursday. The day she and Jordan told Aiden about their suspicions.
This was too much of a coincidence.
****
Adele was rushing around on Tuesday, sorting out artwork for a new campaign, when she had a call from Lara, who wanted a quick chat and said it was urgent. Perhaps she’d seen Jason again. That was enough to throw ice over Adele’s day, and she hurried to see Lara in one of the meeting rooms.
Lara sat waiting, a bundle of papers on the table in front of her.
“You’re making me nervous,” said Adele. “What’s up? Is it something to do with Jason?” She hated saying his name. She wanted to call him something else. Bastard-fuck-wanker perhaps.
“No. It’s not.” Lara glanced down at her notes, and Adele followed her gaze. That looked like a copy of the hotel bill from the Paris conference. She recognised the letterhead. As Adele stared at it, Lara closed the folder and sat back.
“Lara?”
“Nick’s told me everything. I wanted to let you know I’m going to tell Karl.”
If she’d been smacked on the face, Adele couldn’t have been more shocked. She gaped and fought to keep control, her cheeks burning. “What did he say?”
Lara inclined her head towards the folder. “How you took him home after the night at the XP Club.”
This wasn’t too bad.
Unfortunately, Lara carried on. “And what happened in Paris.”
