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I’m passing the hotel when Perry beeps his horn at me. Assuming he is simply saying hello, I give him a wave and carry on my way. “Hey, Lauren!” he shouts after me, abandoning his car and hopping out to jog down the street to me. “Hey, hold up!”
“Everything okay?” I say, looking around to make sure my boss isn’t in the vicinity.
“Yeah, what are you up to?”
“Nothing.” I frown, then laugh. “Heading to grab some dinner, then home,” I tell him. “I’ll see you soon.” With Cain being so dismissive, I’d rather keep my distance from Perry, too.
“Hey, you’re not mad at me, too, are you?” he laughs, taking hold of my hand and stopping me.
“No,” I murmur, but he crosses his arms, dissatisfied. “Perry, I just want to do my job and go home, you know.” My shoulders lift, defeated. “Cain,” I sigh, “we didn’t get off to a good start, and I could do without the hassle.” I rub my forehead and smile, hoping he will be understanding and leave me be.
“Well, I’m not Cain,” he points out. “So, dinner, where are we going?” He grins, dimple and all.
Chapter8
Cain
Lawrence Danvers sits opposite me in the restaurant where we agreed to meet for lunch. He is ten years my senior and one of the few people I trust. He is also one of the select few who know about Royce and my plan to dismantle his life. “I know Justine mentioned it in passing at our last meeting, but I think she might be onto something. If Royce forged your father’s signature on the will, then it is void, and Carson Court is yours, not to mention any other property. That’s if the entire document isn’t fake. You’re already a majority shareholder. His company is as good as yours.” Danvers clicks his tongue after taking a sip of his whiskey. “I think it would be prudent to have a specialist examine the document.”
“Let’s do it,” I agree. A low hum of excited energy ruptures in my gut and glides through me. If we can prove this, then Royce is ruined.
“It would be perfect if we could find the original will. The more I think on it, the more I believe Royce would have doctored a new document to secure his place as head of your family.” I don’t correct Lawrence, but the mention of him being family sends a sickly sweep of anger down my spine.
“I’ll see if I can gain access to the house—if not me, then Perry.”
“Whoever drew up the original will needs to be investigated, as it’s likely Royce blackmailed them, coercing them to forge it for him.”
“Do some digging,” I mutter.
My phone pings and I find Justine has finally sent the file. A paper copy will be on my desk tomorrow morning.
“New investment?” Lawrence leans back in his chair, interested.
“Something like that.” I swipe my thumb over the screen and click the attached document. The first page is a profile of Lauren smiling on a terrace overlooking a large lake and golf course. I skim a few pages of family photographs and her with a female friend until I find her standing with a man. He’s thin and tall with blonde hair and narrow eyes. They beam into the camera. My chest seizes, but I shut the sensation down, refusing further emotion to take hold. Below gives me a brief rundown of her connection to him. His name, age, and occupation.
Martin Johansson. Ex-partner. Affair. Country Club heir. I recognise him. That name. Skimming further, I find a name that has me sneering. Henrik Johansson.
“What do you know of Henrik and Martin Johansson?” I ask, thumbing through for further images. I’ve met Henrik in passing once or twice, and the snowy-haired fool is nothing but a brown noser. I knew Lauren worked at a prestigious golf club on the outskirts of Oxfordshire before, but I hadn’t considered she was involved intimately with anyone there, let alone the owner’s son. I frown down at her picture. She is young, content even. Nothing like the guarded woman I know. The affair between her friend Kristy and Martin is briefly summarised. I can’t tolerate cheaters. Her friend is an angular woman with poker-straight blonde hair and large teeth. Personally, I think Martin is an idiot. Kristy is certainly no Lauren, that’s for sure.
“Very little. They golf with my brother. Eric always liked the country lifestyle. They own several country clubs and golf courses. Small-time real estate.” He means in comparison to me.
I hum as I stare at another image of Lauren laughing into the camera. My mouth tilts up. Her neck is exposed, and her eyes dazzle. She is exquisite.
Our waiter approaches and places the bill down. I note the figure and close the leather pouch as they take their leave.
“Why?” Danvers interrupts my train of thought. I pocket my phone before I get carried away staring at her. I’ll read through it tonight.
“An employee used to work for them. Got me thinking it’s a possible opportunity for me to explore.”
“You’d hate Henrik. He’s a smarmy prick.”
“I’ve met him. I already hate him.” I hook my arm over the back of the chair and glance across the dining room. “But I don’t need to like him to do business.” I shrug.
“Does this employee have anything to do with the incident that occurred at the hotel?” My eyes slowly roll back to him, where he views me across the table, a small twitch playing at the corner of his mouth. I’d called Danvers to anticipate the claim of unfair dismissal. He knows little, but enough to know that I was in the wrong.
“Maybe, although as I mentioned, she has accepted an offer to continue her employment, so no harm done.”
“Yet.” Danvers never misses a beat—it’s what I like about him.
