‘It’s not going to fucking happen,’ I snarled under my breath.
The clink of her teacup against the saucer preceded Aunt Flo rising to her five-foot-two-inch height. In her Chanel suit, flawless make-up and contemporarily styled hair, she looked a decade younger. ‘No, it’s not. Because the last thing I need is your uncle Joseph giving me one of his damn I-told-you-so lectures.’
I’d spent most of my life wondering when the permanent stick Uncle Joseph had up his arse would turn into a tree. At sixty-eight, he was one of the oldest of the remaining Mortimer clan and probably the one who hated my guts the most, although he had no problem cashing the huge cheques my hard work brought him while not so secretly keeping the lynch mob at the ready in case I fucked up royally.
‘If you don’t want that to happen, then you’ll keep your antics down. At least until this Russian deal is done. That’s what we agreed.’
‘Wait, that’s what who agreed?’
‘An informal family meeting was called this morning.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘To which I wasn’t invited?’
‘It was agreed it would be best if you weren’t involved. Besides, you were tagged on social media with the caption that read “Just Done Being Banged.” I thought you needed your sleep before this meeting.’
‘I was on the phone to an intractable Russian oligarch until three a.m. this morning. Trust me, I had no energy after that to bang anyone.’
‘But you realise there’s a pattern that supports these allegations, don’t you?’ she insisted.
For the first time in for ever I couldn’t hold the gaze of the only person who meant a damn to me. Spiking my fingers through my hair, I paced to the window.
I was pretty sure I knew who’d posted the fake news, and if I hadn’t dumped Mischa last week over her many flaws, I’d do it all over again, just for her insane Instagram obsession.
With a sigh, I faced Aunt Flo. ‘So you had the meeting. And you all agreed to this...rancid little attempt at blackmail?’
Her lips pursed. ‘I’m your greatest ally, Gideon. You know that. But even I’ve noticed that you’ve...regressed a little lately.’
My teeth ground together and I forced myself to remain silent. It was true I’d made full and frequent use of the handful of exclusive gentlemen’s clubs I patronised. And so what if I didn’t date the same woman for more than a handful of weeks and that each sexual encounter left me a little more jaded than the last? Didn’t someone marginally profound suggest that the best way to get over mediocre sex was to fuck someone else?
I grimaced inwardly at the hollow echo of the reminder, ruthlessly suppressing the voice that suggested the bandage I’d slapped over the gashing wound of betrayal was in serious risk of failing.
‘So they elected you to be the bearer of this momentous news?’
She cracked her first smile since entering my office. ‘I was tempted to send one of your uncles just to see what colourful name you’d come up with this time. I believe last time it was a giraffe’s arse?’
I shrugged. ‘Uncle Conrad shouldn’t have walked into my office without knocking. He embarrassed the hell out of the Aston Martin saleswoman. It wasn’t my fault she chose to make her presentation minus a substantial amount of her clothes.’
Aunt Flo shook her head as we shared a grin. After a moment she sobered up. ‘I love you, dear boy. Enough to let you know things are serious this time. There are whispers of board members banding together to gain enough shares to form a majority. I’ll happily throw in my six per cent behind you but if this becomes a reality, it still won’t be enough.’
‘I can’t believe this tripe. I’ve made them all more money than they’ll ever be able to spend.’
She nodded a little sadly. ‘They’re ungrateful bastards. Every last one of them. But they’re still part of this family. And they’re powerful enough to pack a collective punch if it comes to it. I don’t want to see that happen to you.’
‘So they’re holding my sex life prisoner?’
‘Not your sex life. They just don’t want any unsavoury publicity or social media posts like the one from this morning risking this deal. Get one of those sex-bot things that seem to be the rage nowadays.’
I snorted. ‘No, thanks. If that’s my only choice, I’d rather stay celibate.’
Flo’s carefully plucked eyebrows shot up before she laughed. ‘Be careful what you wish for or the lawyers will put that in the contract.’
I froze. ‘What contract?’
She made a face. ‘They want something binding so you take this seriously. They think thirty days of no adverse publicity ought to do it.’
Sweet Lord, this just got better and better. ‘They’ve got the bloody lawyers involved without even discussing it with me first?’ The realisation shouldn’t have hurt. But it did. Same way what Damian had done continued to drill a gaping hole inside me.
Not for the first time, I wondered why I’d bothered returning home to London. Why I didn’t stay in Singapore, co-managing the hotel construction company I started with my brother, Bryce, eight years ago, instead of merging it with TMG. Everything outside the glass walls of this giant skyscraper that housed The Mortimer Group had gone to shit the moment I took the CEO position.
‘Nelly, wait for me outside,’ I heard Flo murmur. She waited until her assistant left the room before she approached. ‘I’m the last one to be indelicate but I’m going to come right out and say it. You’re in danger of being permanently scarred from what happened three years ago. It’s time to take firmer control of your life, Gideon.’
My fist balled and that tight band of rage around my chest I kept especially for such reminders threatened to suffocate me. ‘I was betrayed by my own flesh and blood, Flo. By the person I trusted the most,’ I gritted out.
She laid a gentle hand on my arm. ‘I know. And while this may sound like an atrocious idea to you right now, taking a step back from the...excess may provide a little clarity.’
She meant well, and yet I couldn’t stop the rancid bitterness that ploughed through me. Nor did I particularly welcome the unspoken accusation. The one that suggested I was repeating past mistakes of parents I barely knew.
‘I’m not like my mother, Flo,’ I bit out tersely. ‘If I suffered from any form of addiction, I wouldn’t turn up at six a.m. every morning and work my bloody arse off for this family.’ I knew my mother’s addiction to the heroin that eventually caused her to drive her Maserati off a cliff in Switzerland ten years ago was another invisible stain on my character. ‘There’s nothing to remedy. But I’ll sign their damn paper if that’s what they want. And when I pull this deal off without hint of a scandal, I expect every last one of them to come crawling to me on their hands and knees to beg my forgiveness.’
‘And I’ll sit by your side and we’ll sip cognac and laugh as they do.’
I couldn’t summon the smile she expected so I just nodded.
‘I’ll tell the lawyers to have the papers ready for you to sign this afternoon. Now, I’d better be on my way. I don’t want to be late for my next appointment.’
Alone in my office, I stood at the window and stared, unseeing, at the view.
What the bloody hell did I just do?
You just agreed to behave for thirty days. Ergo, no partying. No gentlemen’s clubs. No sex.
No finding an avenue—no matter how futile—for the demons that crawled out of the woodwork at night and taunted me with might-have-beens. No distraction from the hell of losing the person I’d once believed was my best friend to an act of betrayal that still hollowed me out in the dead of night. My fist clenched as memories raked raw pain over me.
I hoped to God my impending suffering was worth it or someone’s head would roll.
Copyright © 2018 by Zara Cox
ISBN-13: 9781488082740
Getting Even
Copyright © 2018 by Belinda De Rome
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
Getting Even Page 19
