by Ally Blake
Florence Nightingale had nothing on her.
Clive shifted till he blocked her view, and pressed her into the stairwell as he half closed the door. “Mother is never unwell.”
April rocked back onto her heels. “Right. Well, that’s lucky. So what’s wrong?”
“I have some issues I need to address with you. Mother has mentioned an increase in noise pollution. Slamming doors.” Clive shot a look up the stairs. “Visitors coming and going.”
“Slamming... Oh. Okay. That would have been my sister, Erica. She’s been staying over for a few days, remember. Sorry if we were a bit loud. I’ll make sure Erica keeps it down.” If she ever came back. April hoped she’d come back. More than she’d realised.
“Mmm. I’m not sure that’s enough.”
“Excuse me?”
“Mother is too nice. She likes you far too much.”
Which was when April noticed Mrs. Parsons’ copy of their hand-written lease agreement – pale lilac paper, scented with lavender – in Clive’s hand. Mrs. Parsons loved lavender.
In the other hand he held a check.
April’s face came over all hot. Her heart whumped unsteadily in her chest.
Turned out her instinct to get a proper contract had been spot on. Only she’d stupidly let it slide, keeping it as an ace up her sleeve in case she needed an excuse to contact Finn.
“What’s going on, Clive?”
Clive’s gaze lifted once more to the top of the stairs. “Mother is old school. She has morals. She thought you were like us. Wholesome.”
April scoffed, and turned it into a cough. Sometimes Clive’s mail ended up in her letterbox instead of his. She knew the kinds of magazines he liked and wholesome wasn’t even close.
“You ought to be more careful about the company you choose, Ms. Swanson.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Even while she suddenly had a feeling she did.
When his gaze flicked to her apartment for a third time, the skin on the back of April’s neck prickled before the sensation shimmered all the way to her toes.
Clive had always had a bit of a thing for her. She’d been nice, polite, hadn’t encouraged him in any way, but he still held a torch for her. The only times he got narky was when...
“Can you give me a minute?” Without waiting for an answer, April took the stairs two at a time. Not a runner – or jumper, or exerciser for that matter – she was puffing by the time she reached her door.
Knowing – in her gut – that it wouldn’t be locked she flung it open.
And there she found Finn, sitting on her couch; his feet on her reclaimed wood coffee table, one arm wrapped casually around a scatter cushion, the other distractedly stroking Prince who was drooling blissfully all over Finn’s nice pants. Her Wonder Woman t-shirt lay neatly over the arm of the couch. The final, wonderful episode of Downton Abbey was playing on her TV. And by the number of crumb-covered patty pans on the pink plate by his feet he’d found her cupcake stash.
She was shocked to the spot by how right he looked sitting there, how comfortable. Filling her apartment with richness, warmth and security.
The thing that had been missing to make her tiny, cluttered, attic space feel like home?
It wasn’t a fluffy rug or a cute new print.
It was him.
Worlds collided. Alternate universes merged. And April tumbled head over heels in love.
She must have made a sound. Probably something between a sigh and a whimper. For Finn paused the show and turned.
He took her in with a glance so fierce it bathed her in heat. Then he gave Prince one final pat before pressing himself from her soft old couch; a vision of lithe, potent grace heading her way.
Which was when she realised he was mad. Really mad.
Well, too bad. For she was in the middle of a crisis of the heart and he’d put her there and it was her house so she got to be mad first.
“What the hell are you doing here, Finn?” she barked, hands on hips and all. “How did you even get in? Did you pick the lock? And– No, that’ll do for starters.”
His answer? “You didn’t answer your phone.”
She threw her hands in the air. “I was working!”
“You were screening.”
“It’s a free country.”
“For some.” Finn ran a hand over his face. “Did you not hear everything I told you the other night?”
She remembered every second of that night in exuberant technicolour. From opening the door to the sight of him in nothing but a towel to the depth of emotion in his eyes when she pushed him back on the bed and taken him inside of her.
“I have ears,” she said, her voice husky as hell. “I heard. You said I should go and not look back. In fact, you’ve been telling me that since the moment we met. Just took me this long to get on board.”
A picture of thinning patience, Finn stared her down. “If you think back you might also remember I had mentioned my father and his imminent desire to return to his old life. A not nice life filled with not nice people. Many of whom would be happy to pick up where he left off. So if I call, I’d really appreciate it if you would answer.”
His words were laces with sarcasm. His jaw so tight it looked ready to crack. But when he was done his out breath was long. His eyes tormented. The fingers extended in her direction in order to press home his points curled slowly into his palm.
And every tight, uncertain, scared, mixed-up feeling that had darkened her day disappeared as she realised there was one person she couldn’t seem to rub the wrong way, no matter how much she tried. “You do care about me.”
Finn flinched, leaving his face wide open for just a second. Just enough to know she was right.
She took a step his way. “You, Finn Ward, were worried about me. Because you like me. You more than like me. That’s why you’re here.”
His jaw worked, gritting so hard he could break a tooth. “I’m here to bring back your Wonder Woman t-shirt,” he said, grabbing it off the back of the couch and shoving it towards her like a shield.
“Then don’t you think you might have led with that?”
“April.” There was warning in his voice.
Warning she was done heeding.
It took three short steps and a leap off an emotional mountain, but she did it. She threw herself at him, no doubt in her mind he’d catch. And he did. Both arms, wrapped about her. After a moment’s hesitation he pulled her close. Held her tight. Burying his face into her hair.
“You don’t need to worry about me, Finn. Been taking care of myself for a long time now.” She lifted her head away to look into his eyes – on tippy-toes, her nose reached his chin. Her throat felt tight, her heart thunderous, as she admitted, “And I more than like you too.”
His deep blue eyes flickered between hers. She felt the erratic whump of his heart. Then he breathed out, opened his mouth—
“Everything okay up here, Ms. Swanson?”
With a moan, April disengaged from Finn just enough to turn her head and find Clive standing in her open doorway. “All good, thanks, Clive.”
“This gentleman bothering you?”
“Constantly.”
Clive stood taller. “Then perhaps you’d like me to escort you back to my place.”
April glanced at the lilac paper still clutched in Clive’s hand. Clive’s gaze followed. Then he slowly hid it behind his back.
April rolled her eyes. Dropped her heels to the floor. And turned so that her back was to Finn. She came over a little giddy as his hands settled on her hips. Clive was the absolute opposite of a viable threat yet Finn had most definitely just marked his place.
“Clive. I’m fine. More than fine. Super fine in fact. No need for an escort.”
“She can take care of herself,” Finn said. “Just ask her.”
April flicked Finn a glance, her heart jumping at the storm in his eyes. “Not helping.”
He inched his fingers around her sides unt
il they grazed her belly.
Clive gave Finn one last dark look. And said, “There’s a morality clause.”
“A what?”
“My mother added a morality clause to the contract.”
“Morality—There’s no morality clause, Clive because there is no contract. We made an agreement between two sensible women. Besides, your mother watches Game of Thrones the way I watch Downton. She would never ask for a morality clause.”
Clive glanced at Finn. Took a step back.
April looked back at Finn again to find him donning his big scary bouncer face. “Stop glowering at the guy. He’s my neighbour. And my landlord’s son. And he’s harmless.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Fine. Clive, you are big and scary and very, very brave. Now go home. Go home and put that piece of paper back where you found it before I tell your mother what you tried to pull tonight.”
Colour moved around Clive’s face, until it coalesced in bright splotches in his cheeks. Then he muttered something like we’ll see about that under his breath before scurrying away.
“I’ll get that contract to you tonight,” Finn said. “Truth is its been ready for days.”
She spun to face Finn and, when she looked into his stunning, dark eyes, her head kept on spinning. “You were hanging onto it, weren’t you. In case you needed an excuse to call.”
“Of course not,” he said, his eyes roving over her face. “That would be highly irregular business practice.”
“Totally,” she said on a sigh. “Did you really come here to make sure I was alive and kicking?”
“That. And other reasons.” His hands slid back around her, landing on her butt. He pulled her close into his hardness. Oh, the hardness.
This man. What was she going to do with him? She wriggled to get a better fit, perfectly aware of what she was going to do with him. And soon.
Was he worth it? Worth the mess and uncertainty and the fact that her whole life was in flux?
She looked into his eyes – all that wild, deep heart-breaking blue.
No matter what happened from here on in, he was worth every bit.
“You do more than like me, don’t you Finn?”
He sighed. A big, hearty man sigh that filled the corners of her tiny home till it sighed right along with him. “Yes, April,” he said in that deep, rumbling voice of his, “I more than like you.”
She dipped her head till it landed with a thump against his hard chest. “Does that scare you as much as it scares me?”
He snuck a finger beneath her chin and tilted until she was forced to look at him as he said, “More.”
Then he kissed her and whatever doubts she had were lost to heat and sensation and the terrible certainty that after all the steps she’d taken to ensure she’d never make such a costly mistake, she’d fallen in love for the first time in her life.
Lunch in hand, Finn wandered back to the couch in the corner of the Hamilton Holdings’ staff dining room.
And he thought about April.
Having met her friends, her sister, having seen her apartment and the poor besotted sod downstairs, he knew she had good people around her – a crew of her own. She’d be taken care of if he had to go and he felt his spine stretch as the weight on his shoulders slipped away.
He sat to find his mail had been dropped atop his closed laptop.
There was an invitation to Kane’s engagement party that weekend. Tropical paradise theme. Dress accordingly. He might have a blue shirt somewhere. That would have to do.
Underneath was an envelope – off white, crinkled, with a small stain on one corner. There was no stamp, no return address, just Finn’s name.
Beads of sweat scattered across his forehead and he had to remind himself to breathe.
He’d recognised the writing in an instant. He’d been raised on it. Notes left on the kitchen bench of whichever hovel they were squatting in—
scool wonts to see me bout Bradan – you take tha meeting
rob needs you to ride lookout tonite – be there
no mony for astronamy excurshun kid – mite as well be asking for tha moon – ha ha
This wasn’t from any law firm. This letter was in Finn’s father’s hand. And it hadn’t gone through the usual safeguards of Cillian’s law firm to Finn’s law firm interstate to Finn’s Sydney-based lawyers to Finn – it had been hand-delivered to Finn’s place of work.
Spine like a rod, every nerve on fire, Finn stood and searched the crowd for something, anything that might alert him to who the invader had been. He could hassle the mailroom. Check security footage. But it was too late. He’d been too busy daydreaming to notice the bad guy who’d invaded his safe zone.
Finn slowly sat back down. With numb fingers, he tore off the end of the envelope, the ripping sound scraping against his insides.
He read the letter inside twice, three times, before letting it drop to his knee. He stared into the middle distance, the sounds of the dining room a dusty blur behind his ears.
The words in the letter were the words of a man who seemed genuinely regretful. Repentant. Who had laid claim to the sins of his past and was determined to make up for them.
This from a cynical, opportunistic brute with no regard for human frailty. A man who believed people were schmucks who’d believe any lie spun the right way, and thus had what was coming to them.
The spelling had improved. As had the vocabulary. If he couldn’t hear his father’s voice in the rough notes and canny conversational cadence Finn would never have believed it.
Finn pressed thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets.
This wasn’t a maybe anymore. If his father could pull this contrite, bowing and scraping act off in person, he’d be on the streets in a handful of weeks.
Finn opened his eyes, blinking to clear the haze. In the centre of his defocused tunnel vision, staff bustled about. Good people, doing good work, and enjoying doing it.
He’d thought himself a small part of the contented buzz of innocuous white noise. He’d found self-respect in his work and solidarity in his life. He’d finally found a crew; men of humour and loyalty and honour. He had a mentor who had given him every opportunity to rise above. He had people who cared for him.
And somehow, out of nowhere, he had a girl.
A girl with solemn eyes, skin like cream, and legs that went on forever. A girl with a fresh mouth, a mind like a steel trap and a wild streak a mile wide. A girl who’d filled in the empty corners of his life. A girl who made it seem like the life he’d envisaged wasn’t too much to ask.
As he folded the letter and put it back into the envelope, he saw he’d been asking for the moon.
Finn knocked on Frank’s door.
“Enter.”
Finn did so, knowing that when he walked back out that door the course of his life would forever be changed.
Frank’s office was ten times the size of the next largest in the building. The walls were silver, the carpet dark grey, the wood furnishings old and venerable. Like something out of Mad Men. A projector screen covered one whole wall. A framed picture of Might and Power – a racehorse the entire nation had loved and Frank had made a small fortune betting on, and a signed poster of Kane leaping for a mark had pride of place behind the desk.
Frank sat behind his huge oak desk, finger sliding over his mouse pad. With his salt and pepper hair, slick moustache, and suave charm, he looked like he ought to have been yakking it up with the Rat Pack rather than running the most respected investment firm in Sydney.
“Glad you’re here, Finn, my boy,” Frank said without looking up. “Sit.”
“I’d prefer to stand.”
“Fine with me. I have an offer I’d like to make.”
Finn stilled. “Which is?”
“Partnership.”
Finn sat.
“As you know, I don’t have any illusions of my own children taking over one day. My ex-wife spoiled them rotten. You, on the other hand, are loyal, sma
rt, sharp, dedicated, and just terrifying enough to take on this beast with one hand tied behind your back. Thoughts?”
Too many to trap. “You can’t tell me you’re thinking of retiring.”
Frank looked up. Eyes focussed on Finn like a laser. “Right now the idea of pottering in the garden or playing golf every third day sounds like purgatory. But one day.”
“Frank—”
Finn’s boss pressed back his chair in a way that stopped conversation cold. Then he walked around the desk and leant back on it, holding the position of power.
“You’ve been my silent partner for as long as I’ve known you, Finn. I would not be where I am today without you. You have an instinct for fixing problems, situations, even people that I’ve never encountered before. Did you hear what Sally and Bob are giving me? A racehorse. Part-ownership of a filly born back in California while they’ve been here. Named her Sydney. You did that, my friend. You have a gift. A gift I hope will keep on giving when you take over this bag of bricks.”
Finn stood, paced, processed. A clock ticked on the wall. Soft laughter jangled through the crack in the door. Never, not once, had he ever considered this a possibility.
It was more than asking for the moon. He had just been offered the world.
And the timing couldn’t have been more—
His feet came to a halt and he looked to Frank. “You know, don’t you?”
Frank scratched at the corner of his moustache. “Of course I do, kid. Did you think I didn’t dig into your background before hiring you? Sure, you’ve taken the skill of unearthing to the depths of genius, but I had ways and means even back then. I was forced to resort to said ways and means once more when I began to feel like you were vanishing before my eyes. Your father is facing a parole hearing and the thought of him back on the street, back in your life, feels like claws in your gut. That about right?”
Finn ran both hands over his face. “Jesus, Frank. Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”
“I could ask the same of you. No, that’s not fair. I know why you didn’t tell me. You’re too bloody honourable. If you had a knife to your throat, a bomb strapped to your chest, and a piano about to fall on your head, you’d still have taken all the heat. Because you think you deserve it. I hope—” Frank’s mouth worked, his moustache twitching, his brow furrowing in eight different directions. “I hope I didn’t have any part of that. That in giving you such a long rope I made you feel like I couldn’t trust you to stay close.”
