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every hair on my arm closest to him.
I cling to my control of the situation. ‘If there are any changes you’d like to make—’
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You of all people know peak season isn’t the best time for major works.’
I stare, fighting the urge to allow my jaw to hang open with shock. He can’t rescind my contract. ‘Well, yes, but Graham was adamant.’
Reid continues as if he’s deaf to my every argument. ‘Of course, loss of business for us is good for competing hotels.’ He swivels to face me, leaning into the small space that separates us, a space now tense with professional mistrust and the fizzled-out sparks of that physical connection I’m now wondering if I imagined, leaving me hot and cold in the space of the same heartbeat.
‘What are you suggesting?’ How could I get carried away with my reawakened attraction to him, when all along he planned to veto the project? Assuming we were both on the right track for the renovations while indulging in our frisson of chemistry? Well, if he could ignore it to play dirty, I could ignore it to win.
Reid’s eyes narrow a fraction. ‘It’s a double win for you—Cameron Interiors and your family’s hotel benefit while the Faulkner is out of action. And, despite what Graham might have agreed to, now really isn’t a good time.’
I force myself to remain calm. ‘I only care about Cameron Interiors, and Graham didn’t agree, he insisted—not that either is relevant in light of my contract.’
The tightening of his mouth should appease me—he’s over a barrel, although icy trickles of doubt snake down my spine. If he chooses to contest, I can’t afford much in the way of legal representation to fight him, just as I couldn’t afford to hound Josh for the stolen business, neither financially nor in the humiliation stakes.
Reid’s eyes have gone from blue to silvery grey. Hard. Unyielding. ‘You can’t deny there’s considerable gain here for Cameron Interiors.’ He has the decency to look away, but only temporarily.
‘As there is for the Faulkner. I don’t see why our mutual benefit is of any consequence. There’s a transactional element to any contract, otherwise why else would we bother?’
‘Perhaps Graham jumped the gun.’ His mouth twists, as if he’s tasted something unpleasant, and I wonder what’s really going on here. Why is he so keen to dispense with the renovations and me? ‘I’d be happy to offer compensation for the inconvenience and for your time.’
Part of me is tempted by his buy-off. What better way to put a lid on this whole sorry episode and move on to fresh, more welcoming clients and to get away from his...addictive potency? Away from the lure of living out my teenage crush and embracing the inconvenient sexual attraction to Reid Faulkner?
But then I’d be no better than Josh. Deceitful. Taking something I hadn’t wholly earned. No. I can handle this man, our chemistry irrelevant. I drag in a shuddering breath, bolstering my resolve, which had clearly been knocked off balance by the rage of my hormones. Whatever his motives, I’m here to stay.
‘And your father’s plans for the future of the Faulkner... You don’t want to respect those?’ I know what Graham wanted—to leave the Faulkner, their oldest hotel, in pristine condition—his last act as head of the company, future-proofing the jewel in the Faulkner Group crown for his sons.
His eyes narrow, his mouth thinning, as if by reminding him of his father’s wishes I’ve asked for double his original offer.
‘I know what’s best for my family and my company.’
I nod. ‘Yes. And I know what I discussed with Graham, and what he wanted.’
His eyes narrow but there’s respect and heat layered in his irises. ‘Quite spectacularly ruthless, aren’t you?’
The way he enunciates every word makes me acutely aware of my body, my every heartbeat and breath—who knew sparring with him would be so...invigorating? Now he’s thrown down the gauntlet, I can’t resist. I scoot closer.
‘You’re right—I’m not too shoddy at negotiations, and I know what I want.’ We’re so close, his glittering eyes haze out of focus. His warm breath gusts over my tingling lips, lips I’m aware are parted to emit the rapid pants of my fired-up breathing.
Time passes. A thrilling face-off neither of us seems to want to lose.
I want to kiss him. The thought slams into me from nowhere.
At that second the office door swings open, snapping our attention from our intense staring contest. Our heads swivel in unison to the new arrival, the swing of my ponytail glancing off the side of Reid’s face—that’s how close we were.
Graham Faulkner stands in the doorway, his face wreathed in a smile of welcome and recognition. ‘You two...’ He waggles his finger, an indulgent grin on his face. ‘Looking cosy.’
‘Dad.’ Reid jumps to his feet. ‘What are you doing here?’
I follow, grateful to emerge from the sexual fog.
‘I just popped in to collect a file.’ Graham raises his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Don’t let me interrupt you two lovebirds.’
My face flames. Is that how we appeared? Was our chemistry obvious to anyone with eyes, despite the face-off that was taking place? Adversaries, more like... But now Graham is here, we can clear up this mess.
Graham grips my shoulders and presses a kiss to my cheek, catching me off guard. Last time we met it was handshakes and professional praise, albeit layered with the warmth of our longstanding personal relationship.
Reid slides me a look and then winces. ‘No, Dad. This is—’
‘Sadie, good to see you again,’ says Graham, his smile warm. ‘I’m so looking forward to your engagement party.’
Sadie...? Reid’s ex-wife. Engagement party...?
I glance to Reid, my face draining of blood. ‘It...it’s good to see you again, Mr Faulkner,’ I say. What the hell is going on?
Reid looks ashen, his smile brittle for his father. ‘Dad...this is—’
‘Now, now, Sadie,’ Graham interrupts, ‘I’ve told you before—we’ll have none of that Mr Faulkner stuff. You’re going to be my daughter-in-law. Call me Graham.’ He hugs Reid and bustles back out of the room, muttering something about preparing for a meeting, which takes Reid’s complexion from pallid to waxy.
At the threshold Graham pauses and spins, pointing at Reid. ‘Bring Sadie for lunch on Sunday.’
‘But—’
‘I insist.’ Graham holds up a hand, silencing Reid’s protests. ‘I want to get to know your future wife better.’
Beside me, Reid stiffens.
I step up alongside him, close but not touching, offering solidarity for this bewildering conversation, which renders me both speechless and sets my stomach in knots.
Graham’s stare slides my way. ‘What do you say, my dear? Reid’s brothers will be there—it’s a family tradition.’
I smile, caught between rational and sympathetic responses. Graham Faulkner clearly has no idea who I am or how he knows me. No idea that he taught me to play chess as a girl or gave me business advice when I left university. My stomach turns—something is clearly very wrong. This isn’t the man I’ve known half of my life, a man my father considers a long-time friend, a man who has often treated me like the daughter he never had.
Reid’s tension is a force field of repressed energy. I shift on my feet, a tangle of responses blocking my throat. What do I say? Should I remind him who I am and run the risk of upsetting or embarrassing a man I have great respect for, or simply play along with his confusion?
At my baffled silence, Graham’s face drops, his