by Emily Bishop
“Good morning, Miss Price,” he says.
“Good morning, Mr. Fink,” she replies.
I place the Financial Times deliberately on the coffee table. I see Mr. Fink’s eyebrows rise and his eyes track the paper.
Lilly’s do too, but with mischief. “Ooh, what have you been reading about, Gray?”
“Quantitative easing,” I say, quick as a flash. “But we’re not here to talk about that. And, not to be rude, Lillia, but this is a private conversation.”
“Tonic!” Eddie jumps in the doorway and shakes the tonic cans in front of his face like an extension of jazz hands. “Oh, hello, Mr. Fink. Lilly.”
Mr. Fink rolls his eyes. “It looks like you’ve swapped personalities with Gray. He’s the more stable one. And you, Edward, are the show pony.” Haha. Perfect.
Eddie looks sheepish. He pours gin in Isabella’s glass, then makes himself one.
I jump to my feet. “How rude of me. Let me pour you a glass of port, Mr. Fink.”
“I’ll have one, too,” Lilly says desperately.
“This really is a private conversation,” Mr. Fink tells her reluctantly. “Perhaps we will see each other another time.”
I raise my eyebrows at Eddie as I pour Finky’s port.
“All right,” she says, her voice gushing with insincere enthusiasm. “But one thing before we go. You know Gray is doing all this as just an act, right?”
“Lilly!” I say.
“It is, Gray. I’ll bet my father’s title that he has no idea what “qualitative reeling” or whatever is. He’s still a wild child, just pretending not to be, to inherit.”
I want to explode. Hold it in, hold it in, hold it in. If I lose my cool in front of Mr. Fink, I’ll lose all credibility right along with it. I pass Mr. Fink his glass and say to Lilly in the calmest voice I can muster, “Everyone’s entitled to their opinion.”
“I’m the only one who can tame him,” she says, hanging on Mr. Fink’s arm. “You remember how he started to settle down when he was with me? Everyone thought he was a new person. Then when we sadly broke up, he went off the rails more than ever.”
Eddie leans against the column by the fireplace. “No. Isabella is much better for Gray than you, Lilly.”
Lilly turns, her eyes almost slits with rage, her face contorted. “You traitor,” she hisses. “Liar.”
I seize my chance. “This is getting unpleasant. Lilly, please leave.”
She looks to each of us in turn like she’d kill us all if she could. Then she gulps like she’s swallowing down tears. She turns to Mr. Fink, her face totally different. Wet and soft and open, like a pathetic little petal being battered by rain. “It seems I’m unwanted.”
Mr. Fink looks out of his depth. He pats her on the arm and averts his eyes.
“Time to go, Lilly,” I repeat.
“I heard you the first time,” she snaps. She gathers her handbag then walks out. “You don’t know what’s good for you, Grayson Fairfax.”
“I apologize,” I say, and take my seat. Eddie remains by the fireplace.
“I think we should really be apologizing to poor Isabella,” Mr. Fink says.
“I agree,” Eddie says heartily. “Really, Finky, don’t believe anything that gold digger Lilly says. Isabella is a great woman. Very responsible. Working on her father’s business. She’ll make a great heir to the money.” He gives me a wink. “And I’ve never seen Gray so calm and level. He hasn’t even played any of his signature pranks.” Boy, Eddie’s such a great friend. A wonderful cousin and my best friend. The brother I never had.
Isabella has been sitting statue still, observing everything. “It’s all right,” she says. “Thank you, Eddie, for your compliments. That’s very kind of you.”
Bloody hell, she’s doing good. She sounds like a fricking princess. I take a glance at Mr. Fink. He’s watching her, impressed. I try to keep the grin from forming on my lips.
“So, tell me, Miss Price, do you think Edward’s analysis is correct?” Mr. Fink says, then takes a sip of port and watches us all with suspicious eyes.
“Well, he’s very flattering,” she says. “Now, you’ll remember I know Grayson from school.”
“He was a prime scallywag back then, wasn’t he?” Mr. Fink says. “I remember his father complaining to me about the school reports.”
She laughs. “He was a little arrogant. But what I’ve learned is that hard, cocky exterior hides a much softer center. He has much more integrity than he lets on.”
“Really?” Mr. Fink leans forward in the armchair. “How so?”
“He’s been nothing but a gentleman to me.” She gives me a look that says she’s being a bit economical with the truth. Then her face falls. “All right, he’s not always been a gentleman. But he’s tried. He really has tried. It can be hard, once you’re set in your habits, to change them.”
“But I intend to,” I rush to add.
She smiles at me. It looks genuine. “He seems a changed man. There’s still a ways to go. But he’s seen that there’s more to life than drinking and chasing girls and partying the night away.”
Mr. Fink leans back in his chair and narrows his eyes at me, like he’s trying to see into my soul and read it. “People rarely change. Not in a meaningful way. It takes a great deal of effort.”
“He’s changing, Mr. Fink, I can assure you,” Isabella says. “You probably think he’s going to squander his father’s money like a clueless lottery winner. But he actually plans to be an angel investor and help struggling businesses.”
“That sounds like a good way to rapidly throw money down the drain.”
“Not necessarily,” she says, a little hotly. “Some businesses can turn themselves around. As long as he has a good business partner by his side who can evaluate the businesses’ viability, I’m sure he’ll do quite well. At least he’s not going to buy a fleet of yachts.”
“Or ambulances,” Eddie says with a snigger.
Mr. Fink blinks. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “You know Eddie, always making dumb jokes that don’t make sense.” I laugh and glare at him at the same time, something I didn’t even know was possible.
“Hmm,” Mr. Fink says, not sounding entirely convinced. “Well, this all looks and sounds good. But we have a little more time to go yet. I want to see some more concrete evidence that this is a genuine change in Grayson. I want to make sure it’s not… well, let’s just say, money can be a powerful motivator.”
Isabella gives him a charming smile. “I have become very fond of Gray now that he’s letting down his walls. I can assure you it’s not an act. But yes, let’s see how things go. That sounds sensible.” She turns her smile to me. Is it real? Is that “very fond” just an act? How much of this is still pretend?
Chapter 20
Isabella
DAY 14
I can finally see what Gray means about the mansion.
At first, I was totally overwhelmed by it. It’s like those English period dramas you see on TV, with servants’ quarters and giant wall tapestries and intricate details carved into the ceiling plaster. There are even a couple of stone gargoyles perched above the front doors, as if ready to swoop down and devour any unsuspecting visitors.
The antique furniture and huge gold-framed portraits had me in dazzled awe at first, but now it all creeps me out a bit. Because of the mahogany wall paneling and heavy embroidered drapes at every window, the place is always dark, even when the sun shines outside. A couple of the nobility in the portraits stare out. and their eyes seem to follow you everywhere. There’s a particular elderly man in the hallway I have to hurry past every day, averting my eyes.
But there’s something more than that. It’s loneliness, I think. Even though there are a good few people living here—the academics from the university and several of Gray’s cousins—I rarely see them. Their battered old cars are sometimes in the driveway, sometimes not. Occasionally, I’ll hear a loud laugh carrying through the mansio
n, or a flirty squeal if Lilly’s up there with the cousins. But these echo around and make the place feel more eerie than ever. It’s a strange feeling, knowing there’s empty room after empty room after empty room, all around you, especially at night. I can finally understand why Gray hates it here.
I imagine a small version of Gray running through the vast, empty hallways, with only the ancient antiques to keep him company. His father was always in his home office, I know that much. I wonder if his mother paid him any attention. The place certainly doesn’t feel like home. And despite its size, it’s horribly claustrophobic. I had to get out.
Thankfully, the grounds are much more pleasant. The sky is this lovely cornflower blue today. A breeze carries cotton-puff clouds across it. I watch them make their way past the tall trees, past the acres of forest and rolling hills that belong to the Fairfax clan. Well, soon to Gray. I know he won’t want any of it. He’ll want to run as far away as fast as he can.
I turn past the ornamental pond and into what is posted as the Elizabethan Gardens. I’ve seen many like these in the mansions of old school friends in the wealthiest parts of Seattle and its environs. But never a genuine English one. This was probably planted more than a hundred years ago, I’d guess. It’s no modern copycat.
The hedges are cut low into perfect lines that make sharp turns and twists into geometric patterns. Flowers bloom between them in carefully arranged whites and corals and pale pinks. Gravel crunches under my shoes. Then the hedges curve over into archways, and I walk under the canopy.
The arches lead me into a large open space, in what must be the center of the garden. There’s a huge fountain in the middle. And when I say huge, I mean huge. Perhaps twenty feet wide. A stone woman wearing nothing at all stands on a giant shell and pours a jug of water. Actual water streams from it onto two little cherubs, frozen mid-giggle and mid-play. I think it’s the sound of it I like the most. So calming.
“My favorite part of the manor and gardens,” a deep voice says.
I spin around, a little shocked, to see Eddie.
“Oh, you scared me.”
“Sorry,” he says with a smile. “Though I must say, you scared me earlier. So, maybe now we’re even.”
“Scared you?” My mind whizzes back through the day, the meeting with Mr. Fink and all, but I can’t think of a single thing. “When?”
“When the solicitor was here.” He pushes his copper curls back and looks at me with a concerned expression. “Your acting looked all too genuine.”
“Most of it was.”
“About Gray being a changed man?”
He looks so skeptical I feel stupid. I look away and watch the pouring jug. “I’ve certainly seen a new side to him since our school days.”
Eddie laughs. “Well, yeah, the prospect of a billion pounds will change a fellow. Or at least prompt the semblance of change.”
“So you think he’s fake, too?” I snap. Why do I feel so protective over Grayson Fairfax, of all people?
Eddie chuckles again, like I’m a child. “Look, I’ve known him my whole life.”
“I’ve known him for fifteen years, so I’m hardly a stranger.”
“As far as I heard, you kept your distance. Trust me, I’ve seen every side there is to see of Gray. I was here when he was a kid. I was here every school holiday when he came back. I’ve been with him nearly every day since he graduated. We’re partners in crime.”
“And…?”
“He’s totally faking it!” Eddie bursts out laughing. “He’s a great actor. You should hear the stuff he says to girls to get them to sleep with him. He’ll put on a fake sensitive side. He’ll act tough. He’ll do anything to get what he wants. This is just another game in Gray’s playbook.”
My chest aches. “So you say.”
“So I know. Don’t you get it? He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything or anyone. Only what he wants and his own selfish pleasures.”
It can’t be true. “So then why are you friends with him, if he’s so bad?”
“Well, I’m not exactly an angel, either,” he says. “And I certainly like to hook up with hot girls too. He’s like a magnet to them. So, he wins, I win. You see what I mean?”
I feel heat rising in my neck. “You know he hasn’t even flirted with another girl while I’ve been around, much less slept with one.”
“That’s all part of the game,” Eddie says, quick as a wink. “As soon as he’s gotten the money, you’ll be kicked to the curb. He’s just using you.”
I swallow, feeling vulnerable. “Well, I’m really here for the money, too. So, we’re using each other, really.”
“Bullshit,” Eddie says. “I saw how you looked at him. You can lie about it all you want, but you’re falling in love.”
“I am not.”
He laughs. It’s infuriating. “Everyone can see you’re falling for him. Now, I can see you’re a smart girl. If you’re really smart, listen to this. Gray is not capable of love or change. He was born irresponsible, and he’ll die irresponsible. Don’t go getting your heart broken for someone like him.”
“Gray’s not perfect,” I shoot back, “but he’s a good man at heart. Everyone has issues to get over in life. Problems to solve. He wants to live a better life, and I believe he can, even if you don’t. Even if no one else believes it, I do.” Wow, my voice sounds strong.
Eddie shrugs, then shoves his hands in his pockets. “Well, it’s your funeral.”
“I would have thought that, as his cousin and friend, you’d be more supportive.”
He begins to walk away. “I’m just realistic. If you want to live in a dream world, that’s up to you.”
He disappears behind the archway bushes. I scoop up a handful of gravel and chuck each piece into the fountain one by one. I try to be calm, but Eddie has rattled me. I felt so collected before. I knew I had feelings for Gray, but not so much I couldn’t keep them under control. I could be calm and a little detached. I do want the best for him, which doesn’t mean I have to fall into his arms and onto his cock and declare undying love, does it? Now I don’t know if I’m coming or going. For fuck’s sake.
My phone buzzes to life. It must be work. I hurry to get it out from my over shoulder bag. Yes, it’s the office.
“Natalie,” I say, trying to sound cheerful. “How are things going over there?”
“Oh god, Iz,” she says through tears. “Oh god.”
My heart pounds. “What is it? What is it?”
“The 7th Street store just had a fire.”
“What? How bad was it?”
Natalie lets out a little sob. “Terrible. The whole store’s gutted. The stock’s burned to cinders.”
“Oh my god.” The weight of the news makes me drop to a crouch. My head reels. I steady myself with my other hand and the gravel pinches my fingers and palm. I take a long breath in, then puff out through my mouth, to try to calm myself. “Is everyone all right? The staff? The customers?”
“Everyone lived, praise the Lord,” Natalie says. “But some are in the hospital being treated for burns. There was an electrical failure or something. Kind of like an explosion, one of the staff told me.”
I leap to my feet. “I’m coming there, right now. I’ll get a flight.”
“Are you… are you sure? That won’t jeopardize our loan?” I told her I came to the UK to see a British investor about another line of credit. It wasn’t strictly a lie, but it still felt bad.
“No,” I say. I wonder what Mr. Fink will think about me flying back. If he’ll still release the money to Gray. My brain rides roughshod over the question. I have to get back to Seattle to see these people in the hospital. “I’m coming as soon as I can.”
I hang up the phone, shove it back in my bag, and sprint back to the mansion. My mind thunders. Electrical explosion? Surely everything was up to code? I delegated that all to Natalie a while back. Everything’s insured, so that’s all fine. But as soon as I think of the people, my heart sinks. An explos
ion? How terrifying must that have been! I picture smoke and flames and screams and people panicking, running in all directions.
I’m panicking and running just the same as I get to the mansion. I leap up the grand stairs by twos and threes, then turn the corner to sprint down the upper hallway. But as I turn, I smash right into Gray and holler with the shock. Then I push back off him and go for the door handle. “Sorry, Gray,” I say, then duck into the room. I look around wildly, trying to think of what I can pack at lightning speed.
“What the hell is going on?” he asks as he follows me in.
“No time to explain.” I drag my case to the dresser and start shoveling clothes in it. “I’m going back to Seattle.”
“What? No!” He rushes over to me. “I was looking for you, and I saw you and Eddie talking outside. What has he been putting in your head?”
“Nothing.” I don’t care about any of that anymore. Not right now. “One of my stores had an electrical explosion. People are in the hospital.”
I expect him to shrug and say, “But what about the billion?”
But he sinks down on the bed. “Oh, shit.”
“I’m going to the hospital right now. Even if I have to hitchhike across the ocean. I’m going to the airport. I need a taxi.”
“I’m coming with you,” he says firmly. “Don’t even try to argue. You’re not doing this alone.”
I fling a bundle of socks and panties in my case. “If you can pack in two minutes, then you can come. Otherwise, I’m leaving without you.”
Chapter 21
Grayson
DAY 16
Thankfully, we’re not in England. The taxi ride from any of the London airports to the mansion is excruciating. In Seattle, it’s just a half hour taxi from the airport to the hospital. But still, that’s far too long for Isabella. She spends the whole ride on the edge of her seat, staring out the window with a frown. She grips the headrest of the front passenger seat from her place in the back with tight fingers.
“This is all my fault,” she whispers under her breath.
“No, it isn’t,” I say firmly. “You’ve already said you inspected the building, and the insurance is all up to date. Sometimes these things just happen.”
