“We didn’t want to bother you with serious shit,” Ethan said. “You didn’t need to know. We were handling it.”
“I didn’t need to know or you didn’t trust me to keep it to myself?” Sebastian asked, the truth crystallizing without his brother having to say anything. “Admit it. You were afraid I’d share info, like the Williamson deal.”
It’d been his first year in the family business, one started by their great-great-grandfather, who’d been a locksmith. Legend had it he’d been such an expert on locks, he’d broken Billy the Kid out of jail. These days, the company supplied high-tech security for smart buildings and state-of-the-art corporate parks, competed for contracts with the most lucrative companies in the world, and owned enough patents to keep them exceedingly wealthy.
At the height of bidding on a particular project, Sebastian had been having a drink with a beautiful blonde. He hadn’t known at the time she was the daughter of the man against whom they were bidding for a contract.
He’d been young, cocky, and stupid. She’d been busty, which distracted him, and extremely bright. He’d bragged they were sure to win, that nobody would come close to their number. She’d hung on him, praised him, made him feel important, and he’d admitted that they’d maxed out their bid. They couldn’t go lower on their proposal. It was all the information she’d needed to grab the contract out from under them. Because of his big mouth.
Ethan blew out a harsh breath. “Fine, I didn’t want it getting out that Mandy had a problem, okay? I figured the fewer people who knew, the better.”
He straightened his shoulders and glared at his sibling. “You can’t let it go? You were handling it as a family and didn’t think I needed to be part of it? I couldn’t have helped? I couldn’t have been there for you?” he asked, voice rising.
“Not with something this sensitive!” Ethan shot back.
Parker rose, stepped over to Sebastian, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Now’s not the time,” he told him, putting himself in between his brothers.
Glancing at Ethan, shoulders hunched, his pain obvious, Sebastian agreed. “He’s right. You’re hurting and you don’t need to deal with this shit right now.”
There’d be time for Sebastian’s anger at his family later, after they’d all grieved for Mandy.
* * *
Ashley Easton sat across the table from her boyfriend of six months at the Ivy West Street London, a fixture on London’s social and dining scene for decades. She was surprised Jonathan had chosen such an upscale, see-and-be-seen restaurant for their Saturday night date. Usually they went to more casual places.
Redesigned in 2015, the decor boasted a shimmering central dining bar, harlequin stained-glass windows, and oak paneling. She’d dressed up for the occasion, a little black dress and heels, as had he, dressed as he was in a three-piece navy suit and red tie.
They’d met working at the same accounting firm, and Jonathan Davies was, at heart, a kind man. With his dark brown hair trimmed just so, courtesy of the barber he saw weekly, brown eyes, and a serious personality, he was the epitome of what would be a Wall Street guy at home in the States. But Ashley had been living in London, thanks to a job offer straight out of university. After being sent to boarding school abroad at the age of sixteen, she’d never gone back home.
New York City hadn’t been her home anyway.
The waiter had removed their dinner plates and cleaned off the crumbs on the table. He returned with strawberries and cream, placing the dishes down.
“Oh! We didn’t order–”
“I thought I’d surprise you. I know how much you enjoy fresh fruit,” Jonathan said. “Would you like some more champagne?”
She smiled. “Yes, please.”
As if he’d been listening, the waiter arrived at her elbow. He picked up the bottle from the ice bucket and filled both of their glasses.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Jonathan leaned forward, his gaze on hers as he reached across the table and clasped her hand. “You look so lovely tonight.”
She smiled at the compliment. It was unlike him to be demonstrative in any way, no public displays of affection. British stiff upper lip and all that. “Thank you. You’re looking mighty dapper yourself. I have to admit I was surprised you picked such an upscale place for dinner.”
“I had a reason,” he said, red suddenly highlighting his cheekbones.
Jonathan didn’t blush, but it was an indication of how off he’d been tonight. Antsy throughout dinner. Checking his watch. Asking her if she was finished with her meal not long after it had been served.
She glanced at their intertwined hands. “Jonathan, do you have something on your mind?”
He shifted in his seat. Cleared his throat. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I do.”
She tilted her head, waiting for him to explain.