by Louise Bay
“Good morning,” Carole said, pushing an orange juice into my hand. “How did you sleep?”
I wasn’t about to confess that I’d only had forty-five minutes, give or take. I certainly wasn’t going to tell her why.
“Great!” I said, a little too forcefully. I could still feel the press of Nathan’s thumbs beneath my hip bones, taste his tongue in my mouth. I still ached for him between my thighs.
“It’s the Norfolk air,” she said. “I sleep much better here than I ever did in London.”
John and Zach walked in at that moment, each of them with their hands full. “Eggs,” Zach said, plonking down two dozen eggs on the table.
“Bacon and sausage,” John said, holding up a carrier bag. “Where’s my apron.”
“Where it always is,” Carole said. “Zach and Madison, can you set the table?”
I was pleased to be given a job to do. Something to keep my eyes from wandering to the doorway. I’d crept out of the office before five, despite the fact that Nathan had been pretty convincing in trying to get me to stay.
It would complicate things if anyone found out we had anything more than a professional relationship.
No one needed to know.
In a few hours we’d be back within the M25 and last night would become a distant memory. We’d both been clear that last night was a time-out, nothing more. Even if it felt like . . . more.
“Have you uncovered all Nathan’s deep, dark secrets?” Zach asked as he opened the dresser in the dining hall and passed me a stack of placemats. I’d not spoken to Zach much since we’d been here. Other than being a doctor and a Star Wars fan, I didn’t know much about him.
“Unfortunately, no,” I replied as I began to set out the multicolored mats, each with a bold Norfolk landmark. “I’m beginning to think he’s a little boring.”
Zach chuckled. “I don’t know about boring, but frighteningly honest, for sure,” he said. “And he knows his own mind. Like, every single one of us has followed in our parents’ footsteps in our profession except Nathan. I always admired him for following his own path, you know?”
If only Zach knew about what had happened at Oxford. “Are you on retainer?” I asked. “You can’t pay for PR that good.”
He smiled as he followed me around the table, putting napkins in the middle of each placemat I set down.
“Good PR is getting the truth out there, isn’t that right?” Zach said.
“You’re a good brother.”
“He’s a good brother,” he replied. “I know he’s this super successful guy who’s all take-no-prisoners, hard as steel, gets what he wants, has no problem attracting women and everything,” he said from the other side of the dining room table. We busied ourselves setting out knives and forks.
He was talking about the version of Nathan I’d experienced when I first met him—the guy who simply stated how he wanted to spend the night with me and expected me to say yes. It was the version of Nathan I’d seen in the office, around his employees and clients. But it wasn’t the version who lived in the house in Highgate or went to Norfolk to see his brothers and got relegated to sleep in the office without complaint. And it certainly wasn’t the man who I’d been naked with last night. That Nathan was different. I knew better now.
“But he’s got a really good heart.”
“I know,” I replied, and his head snapped up as if he hadn’t heard me right.
“I get that it’s all professional with you two but . . .” He paused and straightened a fork so it was in line with the bottom of the placemat. My heart tripped in my chest and I kept focused on placing the cutlery just so. What would come after the but? “I just don’t think he would have brought you back here unless he . . . trusted you. And now that I’ve seen him with you, I think it’s more than that.”
I tried to keep my breathing steady as I kept my head down, fiddling with the cutlery. I was a tangle of thoughts. Trusted me? More? Zach was clearly trying to say something and I wasn’t sure what to do or how to react. I didn’t know if Nathan did trust me or even if he should. My job wasn’t to win his trust but to uncover the truth. But last night Nathan had become more than a job—if he’d ever been just that to me.
“More?” I said, softly.
Last night had felt like more. It hadn’t felt like Nathan was seducing me. The veneer that had kept him at a distance on that first night after the wedding had disappeared, and I had been left with the man underneath. A man I liked very much.
“I don’t know exactly what I mean,” he continued. “I just think . . . the way he is with you is . . . nice. Like the two of you are close.”
It was true that we’d spent time together. We’d shared stories. Hopes for the future. I found myself wanting to hear more about what he saw on the horizon for himself. Did he want to stay in a job he didn’t seem all that happy with? Did he want to try another start-up, branch out to new horizons and take calculated risks? Did he want to fall in love? “He’s been very open, I think. Makes my job easier,” I said, trying to cover up the blush I could feel creeping up my neck.
“He’s a good guy, you know. He just needs the right woman.”
I glanced up at Zach’s words, wanting to understand if I had misinterpreted the subtext: He needs you. I found him staring at me intently, like he wanted to say more, or wanted me to.
“Every person needs the right partner,” I said.
The intensity of his probing expression cracked and he grinned. “True enough.”
The front door rattled and opened and a tousle-haired Nathan filled the space. He glanced from me to his brother and then back to me.
“We were setting the table,” I said as if I’d been caught red-handed doing something I shouldn’t.
“Good morning,” he said, a shy smile dancing at the corners of his mouth. He turned to Zach. “Hey.”
Zach glanced between us and chuckled before heading to the kitchen.
“You okay?” Nathan asked.
I nodded as he approached me. I turned, his hand brushing my waist as I headed into the kitchen. Nathan ran his thumb up my spine, making me shiver. “You smell good,” he whispered.
He wasn’t supposed to say things like that this morning. He wasn’t supposed to touch me. It felt too good. Too easy, too right.
It felt like more.
John charged into the dining room, brandishing a fish slice. He spotted Nathan and tutted. “I thought you were Jacob.”
“Can I get you something, Dad?” Nathan said.
“Tomatoes. In the cellar.”
“No problem,” Nathan replied. John charged back into the kitchen.
Nathan grinned at me and leaned over as if he was going to kiss me. My heart began to race. Kissing couldn’t be a good idea. Not if last night was supposed to have been a time-out. Before I could figure out whether his lips were going to touch mine and if they did, what that meant, his phone bleeped between us, breaking the moment.
He glanced at the screen. “Shit,” he said, stepping away from me as he scrolled through a message.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He typed a reply and stepped toward me, his fingers skimming the waistband of my jeans.
“Of course,” he said. “You’re gorgeous.”
His words were like a blanket of warmth I knew I shouldn’t get too comfortable underneath, but the more time I spent with Nathan, the more I liked him. The more I wanted more from him.
“We have to get back to London. There’s something very urgent I need to deal with.”
I nodded and waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
“Are you packed and ready?” he asked.
“Oh, you mean you want to go now?” Reality washed over me like a bucket of cold water.
Soon we’d be back in London and our time-out would be over. Things would go back to how they’d been between us—strictly professional. The problem was, even after we left Norfolk, I wasn’t sure I could leave what I’d found there
behind.
Twenty-One
Nathan
It wasn’t quite six but Audrey seemed like she needed a drink. She was hopping on and off the bar stool at my kitchen counter like the place had fleas. She needed to calm down because she wasn’t thinking straight. Why else would she have been hammering on my door, loud and long enough to get reported to the tabloids? The fury in Gretel’s text at another story about Audrey and me running in this morning’s papers had been undisguised. She knew the board wouldn’t be happy. She knew the ice I was skating on was melting. Bloody tabloids. Bloody Mandy Mason. She had spies everywhere.
“Do you want to sit on the sofa?” I asked, nodding toward the windows.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry I’m ruining your weekend.”
“You’re not.” I’d made it home about an hour ago. I’d offered to drop Madison off—she was only across the Heath. That’s when things had shifted. Maybe she thought having me take her home would be too personal or something, but she insisted on getting a cab from my place. I brushed it off, hiding the little sting I felt at her dismissal. It seemed clear she wanted to get back to business as usual. That had been our agreement, but our time—and time-out—in Norfolk forced me to see that Madison had never been “business as usual” for me. Not since that first night together.
“Shit, Nathan. How did this happen? How am I married to a criminal?”
“Have you got the agreement with you?”
Audrey pulled out a piece of paper from her handbag. “My lawyer said it’s good and we should sign it.”
That was excellent news, but Audrey’s face didn’t show it. I took the letter from her and read it. “So, when are you going to sign?” I asked, wondering why she hadn’t done so already.
“Did you read it?” she asked. “It says I would have to testify against Mark as part of the deal.”
She couldn’t be surprised about that. “You’re not going to have to say anything that isn’t the truth.”
“But he’s my husband. He’s going to expect me to be loyal. And I’m not required by law to testify. Maybe I shouldn’t sign it. Maybe I should take my chances.”
It wasn’t just me who had been sucked into giving Mark the benefit of the doubt all these years. How did he manage it?
“You really need to start thinking about yourself. Was Mark being loyal when he was stealing people’s money?”
“I’m his wife, not his client.”
“He knew that he was dragging you into this, unwitting as you were. He wasn’t thinking about anyone but himself.”
She sighed and put her head in her hands. “You’ve been his friend for years. If you thought he was such a bad guy, why have you stayed in touch for so long?”
I’d been asking myself the same question for a while now. I circled the kitchen island and took a seat beside her. “I don’t know. At university, I felt sorry for him. By the time everything happened, it seemed like he needed me and I . . . I couldn’t cut him off.”
“You know when you bought that exam paper for him?” Audrey asked. “Why did you do that? It’s so out of character for you.”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you one day, but now’s not the time.” We’d both been duped by Mark. But at least I wasn’t married to him. Audrey had the future to worry about. No point in thinking about the past.
“It’s as if I’ve suddenly discovered my husband’s an anti-Batman or something. He has this secret identity that I should have spotted. I’ve been a fool.”
“You need to sign these papers and tell the truth.” It was easy to blame everyone but the person responsible. “No one is entirely good or entirely bad, but Mark’s done a bad thing. He needs to be held responsible.”
Audrey shook her head. “You would never do anything like this.”
I hung my head. There was no arguing with that. “No,” I said. “And neither would you. He’s not less of a loving husband or good friend because of what he’s done, but we have to come to terms with the fact that he’s also stolen a great deal of money. Funds people had earmarked for retirement or university or emergencies. He’s hurt a lot of people, Audrey, even if those people weren’t us.”
“I suppose it’s some consolation that you don’t think I’m a fool. Or if you do, you’re too polite to say.”
I sighed, thinking that we’d both been fools as far as Mark was concerned.
“The entire world is going to think I’m an idiot. And that’s best-case scenario. Some people will think I knew all along. They’ll say I should be in prison right alongside him.”
I wanted to tell her she was overreacting but I wasn’t going to lie to her.
“I’ll be hated.” Her voice started to crack. “Hounded by the tabloids if I buy a dishcloth. I’ll have to move. Emigrate maybe.”
“People have short memories. And you’ll be able to speak your truth if you sign this paper.” Maybe Gretel could recommend a PR professional to help Audrey navigate the next few months of her life. There was no doubt that with the amount of money Mark had stolen, his crimes—and the life he’d built while committing them—were going to interest the newspapers. Audrey was right about the likely outcome for herself, even if she shouldn’t be the one hounded. “You might want to think about divorcing him,” I said.
She pressed her fingers into her temples, a gesture that seemed to emphasize the dark circles under her eyes. “I know I should see someone about it. Everything’s such a mess. And he’s been asking me if everything’s okay. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep it up.”
“You must,” I said. “Your agreement said you’re not allowed to discuss anything with him.”
“I know. Perhaps divorcing him is a better option. I could say I’ve been having an affair. At least there’d be a reason for me to be so bloody jumpy around him all the time.”
“You know you’re always welcome to stay here,” I said. “If things get bad.”
She smiled reluctantly. “Thanks. But that’s just going to drag you into all this when the tabloids start their campaign against me. It’s the last thing you need.”
That was true. The board wouldn’t like my association with Mark at all. And they certainly wouldn’t like it if his wife was staying with me.
“I can go to my sister’s. But who knows how long I’ll be there? The tabloids will probably follow me.”
I started running through scenarios in my head. The tabloids were going to be a problem. Mark was turning out to be the British Bernie Madoff, and the story was going to fill column inches. “I think we need to get you some professional help. I could tell you it’s a good idea for you to move out of the home that’s been bought with fraudulent money, but does that make it look like you’re running? Let’s engage a PR professional. And—” What was the first thing Gretel had told me? I needed to present my side of the story, because all people knew about me was that I was moody and didn’t like the press. Audrey had a different problem, but the solution might be the same: tell her story in her own words. And I knew just the woman to help her do it.
Twenty-Two
Madison
I’d spent most of the afternoon at my desk, putting together pieces of Nathan’s profile. I’d thought I’d still be in Norfolk now but if Nathan had to work, I’d decided I would too.
“I need snacks,” I said to my mother as I entered the kitchen where she was, glasses balanced on her nose. She was sitting at the kitchen table reading the papers as she’d done every Sunday afternoon since I could remember.
“Help yourself, darling,” she replied without looking up.
I pulled open a cupboard door and found some crackers.
“Have you seen this?” she asked, holding up the Sunday Mercury. “Aren’t you doing a story on him?”
Shit. She’d written another piece on Nathan. That would get him into even bigger trouble with the chairman.
I glanced over, trying to be disinterested. “What is it?” No doubt it was an article about Audrey, maybe
even a photograph taken of them by the car in Norfolk. It took every gram of self-restraint I had not to tell her that there was no way that Audrey and Nathan were having an affair. Nathan wouldn’t do that to Mark despite what Mark had done to him. He wouldn’t sleep with me if he was with Audrey. And he wouldn’t cheat on me. Nathan wasn’t a cheater.
“Audrey Alpern has been spurned,” my mother announced. I squinted as I took in the headline. “Used and Thrown Away?” The picture was of Nathan’s front door and Audrey Alpern had her arm raised as if she were hammering on it.
I sighed. “What’s your theory?” I asked. “She forgot her key?”
“He’s clearly gotten bored and she’s gone crazy. That’s the thing about these successful men, they think they can treat women like their playthings. They think they play by different rules than the rest of us, and you know what, Madison, the sad thing is very often they do.”
“And that’s what your sources tell you?”
She glanced up at me. “Well, no. I don’t have anything but the photograph this time but why else would she be desperately banging on his door on a Saturday night? I mean, he’s obviously not answering his phone to her.”
“This Saturday?” I asked. That didn’t make sense. Audrey was in Norfolk on Saturday and I knew Nathan was too. Whoever my mother’s source was, they were full of shit, but I knew that already.
“Did I say Saturday, I meant Friday. One of the neighbors called a source of mine. Audrey was hysterical apparently but Nathan didn’t come to the door.”
“Maybe she’d had a bad day at work.”
My mother laughed. “Of course she did.”
The rage began to boil in me and I abandoned my crackers and headed back upstairs. If I spent any longer in the same room as my mother, we’d end up in a row.
I couldn’t sit still, and began pacing in front of my bedroom window. It wasn’t the lack of snacks that made me restless.
Nathan had confessed to me what had happened at university with Mark when he’d not even told his parents or his brothers. He’d trusted me. Yet I was still lying about my mother’s identity.
