“But you pay rent though, right?”
“I used to, but he died, and no one asked for it after that. I used to put the rent money to one side, just in case, but there didn’t seem much point after a while.”
“No one reached out to you about it?”
She shakes her head.
“You didn’t try to find anything out?”
“How? By séance?”
“I don’t know. His wife? His kids?”
“He had a sister who went to live in South America, I think, but she was even older than him. What was I supposed to do?”
Oh, I don’t know, maybe try not to stick your head in the sand.I blow out a breath, glancing down at the letter again.
“The question is, who owns it now? Whoever put the fence up says they’re applying to the Land Registry office, but that doesn’t mean they own it, right?”
“I don’t know, but they’re not gettin’ me out.”
“No.” Reaching out, I curl my hand over hers. “Not if I can help it.”
I leave Nora and go through the motions of my visit—health checks, meds, and I call and schedule a scan for a newly arrived pregnant whippet. Once done, I get out my phone and search the web. It would appear that William the Conqueror, the king of England way back in 1066, has a lot to answer for. Apparently, in this country, you can just proclaim yourself owner of land (or property) that you can prove has been abandoned by its owner. There’s a little more to it than that—time frames and hoops to jump through—but that is the crazy crux of it.
It looks like a company by the name of Atterir Limited recently discovered the land the sanctuary stands on is ownerless and claimed it for its own.
Well, Atterir Limited, hold my beer.
Chapter 41
EVIE
Maven Inc.I pull Oliver’s business card from my purse, remembering my mild amusement as he handed it to me weeks ago. I called him a relic, asked if he’d kicked and screamed when his company dragged him into the digital age. He smiled and said, if nothing else, it would save me googling him again. He also said I could drop by the office anytime. He probably had a littleafternoon delightin mind.
I hadn’t.Yet.Had sex on his desk. And it’s not happening on my inaugural visit, I decide, as I pull out my phone to call an Uber from Nora’s to take me to swanky Belgravia.
When Nora accused Oliver, my mind said: this land is not worth his time. But shouldn’t I have sprung to his defense? Thought something like,He wouldn’t do thatorHe’s not so underhanded. Only I know otherwise. He’s never hidden himself from me—I know he’s capable, but that doesn’t mean I think he’s behind the letter or the fence. Not that this makes me feel any better.
I give myself a shake. Mitchell lied to me from the moment we met. At least I know what I’m getting with Oliver. He’s not a devil.Except between the sheets.I love him despite his faults because that’s how love works.
The office building is Georgian, four stories high, with a white stucco facade. If I’d given any thought to what Oliver’s office would look like, this is exactly what I would’ve imagined. No chrome-and-glass tower for him.
I report to the elegant reception desk to hear he’s unavailable. Notnot herebutnot available. I turn away, unsure what the distinction is, and I’m about to call him when I hear my name.
“Eve, hey!” At Fin’s exuberance, I swing around. “How are you?”
He crosses the space in long steps, and I turn my head to receive his kiss, laughing as he moves to kiss the other cheek, and we almost bump noses. “Sorry, I forgot. The European way.”
“We can shake hands, but it seems a little cold blooded, given the news.”
“The news?” I repeat.
“Oliver and you?” he begins in confidential tones, whether because he’s concerned about being overheard or for the sake of my blushes, I can’t be sure. “The big L-word confessions?”
Not my blushes, then.
“Ohmygod.” My words fall in a rush, my cheeks pinking with happiness, not embarrassment. “He told you?”
