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“No. I want the well to piss off Caspar.”
“Congratulations, Dayna, you’re succeeding in the most idiotic thing I’ve ever known you to do.”
She rolls her jaw.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just can’t understand why you want to step into a bullfight.”
“Little Princess didn’t explode because of things my father did, Clark.” She gets off the bed and paces, hands on her hips. “Caspar sabotaged the rig. I can never prove it, but he admits it. He’s proud of it. Swinging dick of the fucking Persian Gulf. He messed with the valves so the pipelines couldn’t take the pressure.”
“What?” I’m up now too, standing opposite her, the bed between us.
“SP was going strong. We had some big contracts coming in. I was about to take over management of the rig.”
I close my eyes and push away thoughts of Dayna being hurt, or worse, Dayna being one of those who died.
“Caspar sabotaged the rig because he wanted my father out of the Gulf. He couldn’t take the competition. Caspar killed my father, Clark. He’s the reason my father is dead. My father died thinking he was to blame. I can never forgive Kahn for that. Never. Do you understand?”
I drag a hand back through my hair, trying but unable to process everything that’s happened, that’s happening. “Fuck.”
“That’s why I need the well. I don’t have something to prove to the industry. I want to take back what my father had. I want to stick my fingers up to Caspar and hurt him the only way I can.”
“He knows you’re in with a chance of winning now. That’s why he came here.”
She opens the top of her robe and shows me her angry red-purple neck. “If he thought he could get away with it, he’d kill me to keep me out of the Middle East.”
She moves to the wall, and I notice for the first time that there’s a knife lodged there. She yanks it out and throws it down on the bed. Morbid fascination makes me pick it up. I turn it in front of my face. All I can think about is how I’d like to put it through Caspar Kahn’s throat.
“You’re pulling out of that deal, Dayna.”
“No. I won’t. Haven’t you heard what I just said?”
“I heard that Caspar wants to kill you, and I won’t let that happen. You’re pulling out.”
Her eyes fill. “You just don’t get it, do you? He killed my father, Clark. My father.” She tries to stifle a sob, but it breaks past her fingertips and her shoulders heave. I put the knife on the bedside table and go to her, wrapping my arms around her, pulling her into me.
That arsehole is going to pay.
I bring Dayna to the bed and lie back, hugging her into my chest. “This isn’t you, Dayna.”
“I told you, I’ve changed. I’m not the girl I used to be.”
“Yes, you are.” I pull the duvet over us and hold her hand against my pecs. With my other hand, I stroke her hair, and I kiss her scalp until her breathing calms. I’m anything but fucking calm.
When I’m certain she’s sleeping, I slip out of the bed, put on my shoes and jacket, and take the knife from the bedside cabinet.
I take the lift to reception, hanging my bow tie loose down the sides of my neck and untucking one shirt tail en-route. When the lift pings on the ground floor, I walk to the service desk, off-balance enough to seem drunk, not unsteady enough to be escorted off the premises by security.
I lean over the counter towards the receptionist. “Excuse me, I need you to help me.”
She doesn’t flinch, clearly used to seeing drunken men in black tie at one a.m. “Are you a guest of the hotel, sir?”
“Yes. I, erm…” I lean closer and whisper, “I’m staying here with my partner, Mr Kahn. I’d, ah, appreciate your discretion.”
She looks me up and down, sizing me up. “Of course, sir. How can I help you?”
“We’ve been at the crude energy conference all day.” She nods. “We’ve both had a few too many. I made an insensitive comment about him not discussing our… relationship while we’re here. He didn’t like it. Oh, it was my fault, but he’d had too much to drink and overreacted. So he went to the room, and I think he’s probably passed out drunk. Now my key card won’t work for our room, and he isn’t answering the door. If he’s sleeping, I don’t want to wake him. Could you reset my card for me? And, please, please, don’t disclose our…”
“Of course, sir.” She takes the card from me. “What is your room number?”
