Don’t kid yourself, he’s making sure you’re willing to leave here and disappear out of their lives.
“What’s that look for, Daisy?” he asked.
“I have to go back to that bar tomorrow,” I said. “I need to get my car before it gets a ticket.”
He held out his hand. “Give me your keys?”
“Why?”
“I’ll have Carl drive your Mini here. He’ll drop the keys through the letterbox. Will that work?”
“Yes, thank you.” I handed him my keyring.
“Well, Daisy, I should probably go.”
I smiled. “Thank you for the lift home.”
“Did Nick leave anything else behind?”
“Some clothes—they need washing.”
“Let me take them.”
“It’s fine. I plan on cutting them into thousands of pieces.”
His brow furrowed in concern.
“Or perhaps I’ll set them on fire in the garden. Hopefully, I won’t burn off my eyebrows.”
“You have lovely eyebrows. Let’s not risk burning them off. Let me take the clothes.” Max rested Pelé on the arm of the couch. “Why are you moving out?”
“I have somewhere better to go.”
He seemed to know I was avoiding the truth. “It’ll work out, Daisy. It always does.”
“I know.” Another lie.
“Is that his laundry?” He pointed to the linen bag in the corner.
“You don’t have to…”
Max strolled over and picked it up.
I hurried across the room and grabbed the other end. “Really, it’s no problem.”
He gave a tug. “It won’t be a problem for me either.”
I tugged back. “I insist on taking care of it.”
Another tug from his end. “No, really.”
“It’s no bother.” Another yank from me.
He pulled harder and the drawstring at the top of the bag loosened, spilling dirty clothes all over him as he staggered backwards into the wall. His face contorted into a mask of horror when he looked down to see a soiled sock stuck to his chest. The rest of the smelly laundry had landed on the hardwood floor.
I stared on, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Where’s that HazMat team when you need them?” He peeled off the sock and threw it down in disgust. “That’s going to take years of therapy to get over.”
“You’re in therapy?”
He laughed. “No, Daisy.” He stood up straight and glared down at the offensive pile of clothes. “Maybe burning them in the garden isn’t such a bad idea.”
“It’s all I have left of him.”
My words surprised us both. Max’s eyes filled with sympathy.
Keeping hold of Nick’s unwashed uniforms had been a new low for me.
“You’ll find someone special.” Max shook his head. “I know that’s the wrong thing to say in times like these, but it’s true.”
“Nick and I never got the chance to talk,” I admitted. “He left and didn’t give us a chance to work things out.”
“Did you try calling him?”
“He’s blocked my number.”
“Why?”
“I might have drunk-called him.”
“Don’t worry.” Max sighed. “It’ll all work out. One day you’ll find your happily ever after.”
Silence filled the room as his words echoed in my mind like an impossible promise.
“I don’t think that someone exists,” I mumbled.
“How about I talk with Nick? Get him to call you.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“It’s a better idea than keeping his laundry here waiting for his sorry ass to pick it up. It might give you some closure. I’ll tell you what, I’ll take his clothes and you watch over Pelé.”
I walked over to the figurine and picked it up. “I can do that.”
He knelt and shoved the laundry back into the bag. “I’ll be hosing myself down later.”
“Thank you for being so nice.”
He cinched the drawstring and hoisted the linen bag over his shoulder. “Being called ‘nice’ is a first,” he said, giving me a wink. “That word has never been associated with me.”
“Really?”
“No, I’m a criminal defense attorney. I eat people like you for breakfast.”
“Innocent people?”
“No, I meant…” He shook off a thought.
Was he referring to me as the enemy because I was being dealt with by him, the family lawyer? The man who knew how to make the family’s problems go away?
Max seemed to realize his mistake. “What I meant was—”
“It’s fine.” I gave a thin smile. “I’ll show you out.”
He followed me down the hallway. “This is difficult for everyone.”
“It was lovely to meet you.” At least it came off as polite.
“Feeling is mutual. I didn’t catch your last name?”
“Whitby.” I paused by the front door. “And how is this difficult for you?”
“I meant for all the parties involved.”
“I move out tomorrow. Neither you nor Nick will ever see me again.”
He followed that up with a nod of gratitude, and I decided asking for his last name was pointless.
With the front door open, I paused on the top step and let him edge by me.
“Max, will you give Nick a message?”
He stopped halfway down the path and turned to face me. “Of course.”
“Tell him I hope it all works out with Manchester United.”
His expression softened.
“Look out for your brother,” I warned.
“Always.”
There was still time to save Nick’s reputation. Maybe I was just having difficulty moving on, but I couldn’t shake this feeling that Morgan was going to be his greatest regret.
“Like you, I just want the best for him,” I added.
“I believe that, Daisy.”
I waggled Pelé’s plastic arm and faked his voice. “Don’t go accosting any more young ladies now, Max.”
Max smiled at me and then looked down at the figurine in my hand. “Watch over Daisy for me, Pelé.”
He turned away from me slowly and then strolled out the gate and over to his waiting car. He threw the dirty washing in the boot.
I returned to the sitting room and placed Pelé back in his box to keep him safe. For some reason, the room seemed even lonelier now.
Plopping down on the couch, I squeezed back tears, trying to come to terms with leaving my home, the place where I had finally felt like I belonged.
There were so many good memories here.
This breakup had happened so fast I’d not had time to process it. Now, with no TV and no Internet, I was left with nothing but my thoughts to torture me. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t read, couldn’t think straight. My body ached as though I were sick. My heart kept cycling through all the stages of loss with no end in sight. Betrayal felt like a living, breathing entity that clung to my soul. This shadow would never lift.
Nick Banham had destroyed me.
It was easy to get lost in Summerhouse, one of the largest private homes in London and home to my eccentric mum.
She and David had bought the sprawling Hampstead mansion years ago—thanks to Mum’s stellar modeling career and my stepfather’s iconic footballer status. The estate had a gym, an outdoor swimming pool, a grand ballroom, and a lush garden with a tennis court. The house was too big for a widow, but Mum seemed happy to remain here. It was where Nick had been raised. The place where all his foibles had formed.
Growing up in the shadow of two icons had clearly been a strain at times. So much so that he had kept his parents’ identities a secret—and he’d not even told Daisy, apparently. But he’d been honest with Morgan. Maybe she really was The One for him.
For me, time spent with my stepfather was pretty fantastic for a boy obsessed with football. The man who became m
y second father had always been kind to me, welcoming me into the family with open arms. David never treated me differently than Nick.
Fond memories of the place washed over me as I joined the hundreds of guests milling around the vast garden. We were surrounded by towering outdoor heaters, which proved the hostess had money to burn—quite literally.
“Who the hell thought a garden party in the middle of winter was a good idea?” I mumbled to myself.
“I did.” Nick’s voice piped up from behind me.
I pivoted to look at him. “Why?”
“Morgan.” He gave me a sheepish grin, admitting he was trying to impress her.
Not surprisingly, he’d dressed down in ripped jeans and a casual sweater—compared to me, who’d followed the formal dress code for his soirée. My three-piece suit felt stuffy as hell. Obviously this high-brow event was not only meant to appease Nick, guests and staff bowing down to him to impress his new girl, but to show me off as the eligible eldest son.
Nick looked me up and down. “Playing the part of gangster lawyer?”
I might have represented some shady characters in my time, but that was unfair. Anyway, this was a tailored Savile Row suit. A look he’d adopt after he’d worked through his bad boy phase.
“There are other ways to impress a woman,” I chided.
“Morgan will be rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous. Least a boyfriend can do.”
“To post on her Instagram?” I said. “Better ask the guests first. This is a private affair.”
After a beat he studied me. “You recognize Morgan, then?”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I only knew about her infamous status from Daisy. “Where did you go last night that was so important?” Having left me on the side of the road with his ex, no less.
“We went home.”
I flashed him a wary glance. “How have you been, Nick?”
“Fine.”
“How have you really been?”
He gave a shrug. “Just wish Dad was alive to see what I’m doing.”
“He’d be proud of you. You know that.”
“I miss him more every day. I still can’t believe he’s gone.”
I felt that sting, too. “I’m here for you. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Thank you for coming all this way for me.”
“Of course. How’s Mum?”
He shook his head. “Same. She refuses to sell this place.”
“Her best memories are here.”
I could relate.
Aged ten, I’d scored my first goal in this very garden—only later realizing that David had let me because he was seriously that cool. Despite the circumstances of their marriage coming after the scandal of an affair, Mum really had seemed happier with David. My own dad had worked hard to establish his law firm back in São Paulo, building it up from nothing. Sadly, he’d done it all for her. A heartbreaking fact I tried not to think about.
I looked around at the partygoers. “I hate these things,” I muttered.
“Want to grab a drink?” asked Nick.
He led me onto the patio where we each snagged a glass of champagne and huddled beneath a heater.
Nick raised his glass to toast a stranger across the lawn and then turned back to me. “So, how have you been?”
“This trip is the break I needed.”
“Maybe we can spend some quality time together before you head back.”
“I insist.” Following his line of sight, I saw Morgan. She was standing with a circle of women who looked like they’d huddled together to gossip. “Are those Morgan’s friends?”
“Yeah.”
“Anyone from your team here?”
“No, they’re banned after what happened at the last party.”
“Do I even want to know?”
He smirked. “Probably not.”
“When do you hear about Manchester United?”
“Coach tells me I should find out in about two weeks.”
“That’s fantastic, Nick. I’ll be here to help you celebrate.” I studied his reaction. “You still want this, right?”
“More than anything. Only, I can’t help but think they just want me because of who my dad was—not because I’m a bloody good player.”
“Normal reaction,” I assured him. “It could be Imposter Syndrome.”
“I bet you don’t get that.”
“Being an attorney is in my blood.” It wasn’t strictly true, but he didn’t need to see doubt right now. He needed someone strong to lean on. “You Brits are famous for being self-deprecating. It’s in your DNA. You apologize for everything. Even if it’s not your fault.”
He grinned. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
I smiled back at him and gave his shoulder a reassuring slap. “Football is not only a passion, it’s a business too. Manchester United needs you. They only go after the best players.”
“Hope you’re right.”
He was staring at his girlfriend again.
“How’re things with Morgan? She seems…” I wanted to say shallow, but I didn’t really know her, except for what I’d seen after an agonizing peek at her social media.
He shook his head in awe. “Look at her, she’s gorgeous.”
“She’s very…”
“Glamorous, right?
“She is.”
I waved at a passing waiter and snagged us both another glass of champagne, handing one off to Nick.
“She always has her hair and make-up done before she leaves home.” He downed his drink in one. “She’s in the public eye so has no choice, really.”
My first thought went to Daisy, who didn’t have those kinds of resources. But she was naturally pretty. She had an authenticity that was refreshing. A beguiling presence that my thoughts returned to all too easily.
“She’s a savvy businesswoman, too.” Nick remained focused on Morgan.
Surely there’d be less drama with Daisy, compared to a woman who was high maintenance. Morgan was posting pictures of Nick already and letting the world into their relationship. It felt like a bad idea to be so open.
I turned to face him. “I gave Daisy a lift home yesterday.”
“Why?”
“When she ran into me her glasses got broken.”
Mentioning to him that she’d gone and bumped into a lamppost afterward seemed bad form—Nick didn’t need to know that detail.
His eyes turned dark. “Was she upset I left with Morgan?”
“She’s taking it well. She wanted me to give you a message.”
He set his empty glass down on a table. “I hadn’t spoken with Daisy for weeks, and then she turned up at my party last night and was all weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Like she was desperate to get my attention.”
“Perhaps if you hadn’t blocked her number.”
He spun to face me. “Did she tell you that?”
“She’s been trying to call you and can’t get through.”
Nick pulled his phone out of his back pocket and swiped the screen. “She’s not blocked. I’ll show you.” His frown deepened and then he flashed a wary glance over to Morgan.
“She is blocked, then?” I said.
“That’s strange. I’ll unblock her.”
“Give Daisy a call. It won’t hurt to check on her.”
He gave a reluctant nod. “I don’t know why she came to see me last night.”
“She’s concerned for you.”
“Why?”
I glanced over at Morgan. “How well do you know Morgan? I mean, really know her?”
“I’m living with her.”
“It’s all happening very fast, Nick.”
“Max, you don’t live here. You can’t fly in and start bossing us all around.”
“I’m just looking out for you.”
He sighed. “What was Daisy’s message?”
“She wished you a happy birthday.” I rubbed my brow, wondering how much I shoul
d say. “And best of luck for getting into Manchester United.”
“She needs to move on.”
“You’re ready for that? I mean, you were living together.”
“Yes, of course I’m ready. We’re over.”
“I glanced at Morgan’s Instagram page earlier.”
“She has over a million followers.” He shook his head. “Amazing.”
“Nick, Morgan does seem to have had a lot of boyfriends.”
“What the fuck? Did that come from Daisy?”
“No, I just scrolled down Morgan’s profile page and there they were.”
The comments I’d seen beneath their photos were brutal.
Nick looked pissed off. “Can’t you just be happy for me, please?”
It was my turn to sigh. “If you’re truly happy that’s good enough for me.”
“What else did you and Daisy talk about?”
“Nothing, really. You were together for six months. I’m surprised you never introduced us.”
“Mum has very high standards,” he said. “I didn’t need her on my case.”
“How do you mean?”
“Daisy works in a shop.”
“You can’t be serious, Nick!”
“Mum likes Morgan. They’re both into fashion.”
This was another reason I had to be more involved in his life. He was clearly making questionable decisions. His father had hailed from the north of England, and a more down to earth and easy-going man couldn’t have been found. David would have balked at any kind of snobbery from his son.
“Look, Daisy’s sweet,” Nick admitted. “But she’s not as daring and exciting as Morgan.”
“She’s younger, too.”
“Oh, shit, there’s Mum.”
“It’s your party! She arranged it.”
He flashed me a wary look. “I don’t want her giving me a hard time for wearing jeans.”
At least it would take the heat off me.
“When I dropped Daisy off yesterday, she gave me the clothes you left behind. It’s just uniforms.” Along with your socks, spawned from hell. “I put them in the laundry.”
“You didn’t need to worry about that. I have uniforms at Morgan’s.”
Maximum Dare Page 3
