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Sinclair frowns at the cigar. Sure, it’s not my house, or my den, or my cigar box, but considering I’m here to broker peace between these two, they owe me.
"We don’t owe you anything." Michael shoves his hand into his pocket.
"If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be here in the first place," I point out.
"Speaking of" —Sinclair grips the edge of the bar counter— "how did you find your way past my security?"
I stare at him.
His scowl deepens. "Which one of my motherfucking employees is on your payroll?" Sinclair growls.
"The same one you sent to spy on him." I jerk my chin in Michael’s direction.
"Wait—" Michael swivels toward him. "You have a spy in my team?"
"Have had one for the past three months—" Sinclair turns on me. "How the fuck did you track him down, anyway?"
I reach for the lighter—also Sinclair’s—and rotate the edge of my cigar through it.
"Oh,nowhe goes silent," Sinclair says in a disgusted voice.
"If we’re on the same side moving forward" —I switch off the light— "which I assume we are, there should be no secrets between us."
"This sounds like a nightmare." Michael rubs the back of his neck.
"Why do I feel like I’m not going to like whatever it is you’re going to say next?" Sinclair glowers.
I glance between them. "I’ll tell you who the spy is, on the condition that both of you guarantee his safety."
3
A day later
Lena
"This is your home?" I stare up at the three-story building that looms above me. It’s a Victorian-era building with turrets and spires and even a small tower at one corner. It’s set against sprawling grounds with a tree line that runs around the border of the estate. There are more trees that surround the driveway we drove up. I also noticed wildflowers on one side of the driveway, and a duck pond on the other, including a fountain. An honest-to-God fountain with a mermaid set in the center. To think, we’re in Hyde Park, in the center of London. I didn’t think people were allowed to own property in the park, but clearly, I was mistaken. In fact, the noises of the city don’t even reach the premises. A bird trills somewhere nearby. That, combined with the pitter-patter of the fountain is the only sound in the space.
"It’s my father’s home," Isaac snaps.
I shoot him a sideways glance to find his features twisted. He has a glower on his face, his bottom lip thrust out in a pout. There was a time I used to find his little temper tantrums cute, but the novelty wore off very quickly after his fifth or sixth outburst, all directed at me. Apparently, triggered by something very inconsequential I did.
"I didn’t realize you were so well off," I admit.
"My father’s well off, not me," he shoots back.
O-k-a-y, then.
"Maybe I shouldn’t be here," I glance at what must surely be a heritage building in front of us.
"You’re my girlfriend. Of course, you should be with me. Besides, where would you go, considering you didn’t get the job after completing your internship?"
I swivel to face him. "Are you blaming me for it?" I demand.
He raises a shoulder. "You’re too sensitive, babe. All I meant was, if you’d gotten that job, we wouldn’t have to move in here."
"You could have pulled your weight, too, you know? While you waited for inspiration to strike, you could have gone to work and banked the pay." I tighten my lips.
"Oh, so you think it’s my fault we couldn’t pay the rent on our place?" he snaps.
