— Funny how fate works, isn’t it? he says lightly. But back to your charming wife. Jane Carter. I must admit, I was surprised by your sudden marriage. She’s not exactly your type.
— And what exactly makes Jane “not my type”? I ask through clenched teeth.
— Well, for starters, she has a personality. Wit. A career independent of yours. Quite the opposite of Heather, who existed solely to reflect you.
— Don’t talk about Jane like you know her.
— Oh, but I’d like to, he says with a smile that makes me want to dump my coffee over his immaculate suit. She seems fascinating. That confrontation with a director in Hollywood? Impressive. Takes real backbone to stand up to men like that.
My hands curl into fists. How dare he talk about her like that? Admire her, even, without ever having met her? And why does it bother me so much?
The waitress brings his tea. Alistair thanks her with that calculated charm that’s made him a formidable negotiator.
— So, he continues after a sip, how is married life? As idyllic as those photos suggest?
— Perfect, I say evenly, despite how far from the truth that feels. Jane and I are very happy.
Alistair studies me, unconvinced.
— Callum, Callum… still a terrible liar. You never could hide your emotions—even back at university when you pretended not to care that I won the moot court competition.
— The judges were clearly biased.
— Of course they were, he says dryly.
I take a long sip of coffee, wishing it were something stronger.
— Don’t you have anything better to do than torment me? Struggling companies to acquire? Orphanages to turn into parking lots?
— Such imagination. I’m flattered. But no, I have a meeting in… he checks his watch, an hour and a half. Plenty of time for this fascinating conversation.
— Lucky me.
— Indeed. But back to your wife. I assume she stayed at the castle? Enjoying your mother’s legendary hospitality?
The image of Jane alone with my family hits me hard. What did she tell them? What does she think of my disappearance?
A wave of guilt must show on my face, because Alistair nods with satisfaction.
— Ah. I see. She doesn’t even know where you are, does she?
— My private life is none of your concern, Alistair.
— Of course not. But it is interesting. Callum McGregor—the most methodical businessman in Scotland—suddenly marries an American actress with a complicated past, then disappears less than twenty-four hours later. If it weren’t you, I’d call it a publicity stunt.
A troubling thought flashes through my mind.
— You don’t think Jane?—
— Orchestrated it to revive her career? he laughs. No, even I’m not that cynical. The look on her face in those photos…
He shakes his head, and I hate myself for hanging on his every word.
— You can’t fake that, he continues. That woman is genuinely in love with you. Though I can’t imagine why.
My heart skips.
Jane. In love with me?
