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I turn it off, put it back in the box, and replace the lid. I go over to the coffee machine and start making myself a coffee, my heart racing.
I couldn’t possibly use it. It was one thing to let Damon arouse me with his fingers in the quiet darkness of the car, but it’s another to do it to myself. I wasn’t even comfortable when he moved my hand down with his. I mean, yeah, it was sexy to see how turned on I was. But to do it myself, when I’m alone, purely for pleasure? It’s so decadent. Isn’t it? Damon would say it’s perfectly natural, but even the thought of it feels wicked.
After pouring the steamed milk over the espresso, I go back to the box, retrieve the paperback, and take it and the coffee out onto the deck with a couple of the truffles.
I’ll have to think about the other item in the box for a while.
Chapter Ten
Damon
After a solid five hours’ sleep, I arrive at Kia Kaha at eight a.m. and slot the Jag into the visitor’s parking spot at the front of the building.
Alex and I were part of a close group of friends at university that included James Rutherford, Henry West, and Tyson Palmer, all of us computer engineers in one form or another. From the beginning, Alex talked about the idea of us all forming our own company, but it was only when Tyson had his accident and ended up in a wheelchair that the decision was made to focus on robot-assisted physiotherapy.
When we graduated, I thought long and hard about moving to Christchurch and going in with Alex and the others in the creation of the firm. But at that point, Saxon and Kip were in the process of forming Kingpinz. They were keen for me to be one of the directors of the company, and once they explained that their vision was to create improved myoelectric prosthetics for Kennedy, I didn’t need further convincing. I’ve never regretted my decision, because Kennedy will always come first for me, but I visit Christchurch often to spend time with Alex and the others, and help out with MAX, and now THOR, where I can.
The succession of earthquakes in 2010 and 2011, including the devastating 6.3 earthquake on 22 February 2011 that killed 185 people, also caused major damage to the land, buildings, and infrastructure. Over fifteen hundred buildings were demolished, and the city entered a period of complex rebuilding and restructuring.
Kia Kaha is based in the center of the city, in a brand-new building overlooking the Avon River. In Maori culture,kaitiakior guardians are chosen to advocate for elements of nature, and Henry, who is a member of the South Island iwi or tribe, Ngai Tahu, worked with the localkaitiakito plan and design the new office.
The design is biophilic—which is about finding a way to connect people with nature, culture, and place. Raw materials such as punga logs, reclaimed Kauri timber, and river stones are visible throughout the offices, while the many native plants give the impression that the building and nature are working together to provide the best environment possible. Maori symbols and storytelling are interwoven throughout the building.
It’s a beautiful, sustainable workplace that celebrates the company’s connections to Maori culture and values. Recycled and salvaged materials were used in its construction, and the office is resource and energy efficient, designed to use thirty-five percent less energy and thirty percent less water than a typical office. I love it here, and always enjoy coming to visit.
I enter the lobby, which is large and open plan, and filled with sunshine from the many windows. A crescent-moon-shaped reception desk curves around the seating area, the front created from a carved light wood that tells the story of Tane-mahuta, god of the forest. Green ferns in white pots on either side increase the feeling of being surrounded by nature.
I glance at the painting on one wall of Rangi and Papatuanuku, the primal couple in Maori mythology, and smile.
“Hey, Rebecca.” I go up to the receptionist, who beams at me.
“Good morning, Mr. Chevalier.”
“Damon,” I scold, signing the register. “I keep telling you. My dad is Mr. Chevalier.”
She sticks her tongue out at me, and I laugh. She’s worked here from the beginning, and I’m pretty sure she likes me. I’d never ask her out, though.Don’t shit on your own doorstep, my dad once told Saxon when he dated and then promptly broke up with a girl who worked in Dad’s office, making it very awkward for our father when she sat sobbing at her desk. It’s a rule I’ve always stuck to, and I’ve never gotten involved with anyone I work with or who’s related to someone I know.
I think about Belle, and try not to wince. Until now.
We’re not involved though. I think I escaped before any damage was done.
“Go through,” Rebecca says, offering me a visitor badge. “They’re expecting you.”
I take the badge, clip it onto the lapel of my suit jacket, give her a smile, then head left to the boardroom in the corner of the building. The room overlooks a large, terraced bank that leads down to the Avon. Even though it’s still early, a punt sails gracefully through the slow-moving water, the punter dressed in Edwardian costume, while a coxed four shell overtakes them, the rowers pulling hard on the oars.
The boardroom includes a large, square table that seats fourteen, although only four places are taken at the moment. Relieved to see the table laden with pastries and muffins as I didn’t have time for breakfast, I approach the glass door, which slides open. All the doors in the office are automatic to make it easier for Tyson in his wheelchair.
I grin at them. “Morning!”
“Hey.” The guy on the left raises a hand, then returns to typing on his laptop. Alexander Winters is the same height as me but a tad slimmer, with jet-black hair. His nickname of Oscar the Grouch has been well earned over the years, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s smart, hardworking, and loyal to a fault. He’s my best mate, after my brothers,
Everyone in this room has money, and we all consider ourselves sophisticated, to a certain degree. We all wear smart suits and expensive aftershave, we all have expensive watches and top-of-the-range phones. But James is the guy for whom the word brio was invented. He wears Italian suits, even to work, he always looks as if he had his hair cut five minutes ago, and women have assured me he’s the best-looking guy in the whole of the country. A descendant of the New Zealand physicist Ernest Rutherford, James is as smart as his ancestor but manages to combine that with also being a mischievous playboy. He was the one who always fell in the pool at parties, who’s broken practically every bone in his body, and who seduces nearly every woman he meets. Alex says James’s ancestor must be turning in his grave, but even though he looks like a rebel on the surface, James is fiercely loyal to his friends, and I like him a lot.
Henry West also got his name from a famous Kiwi: George Henry West. George—whose Maori name was Kai Te Rakiamoa—was the first pilot of Maori descent to join the Royal New Zealand Air Force in 1936, and Henry is immensely proud of his heritage. He’s enormous, at least six-four, and built like a brick shithouse. Like a lot of Maori guys, he tends to be reticent in company, only speaking when he has something important to say, but he’s a great guy. He’s the only one of us currently married, to his long-time girlfriend, Shaz, although Tyson is obviously going to join the ranks of hitched soon.
The last director of Kia Kaha is Juliette Kumar. She’s a physiotherapist who Alex met at uni when he pulled a hamstring playing rugby. She once said her inclusion in the company was necessary as a civilizing influence, to stop the guys making fart jokes all the time. Alex replied that nothing would stop us making fart jokes. But it’s true that her presence makes us all behave better. She’s of Maori-Indian descent, tall and slender, with long dark hair, light-brown skin, and attractive dark eyes. She’s very much a modern Kiwi woman, independent and spirited, and sporty. But her mixed heritage is very important to her. She has a Maori tattoo and a traditional bone comb in her hair, and although she wears business suits to work, socially she sometimes wears a traditional sari, and she often paints a bindi on her forehead. She’s wearing one today. I know it’s a representation of the third eye chakra and it can be a religious symbol or used to indicate the wearer is married, but it’s also used as a beauty mark. Juliette once told me that for her it’s a way to embrace her Indian culture, and for her it represents honor, love, and prosperity, which I thought was great. I wink at her, and her lips curve up.
