Page 32 of Pride and Privilege

He hesitated before speaking. Let out a long breath.

“It’s my dad. He’s…he’s sick.”

SIXTEEN

Roscoe’s father, CEO ofBlacktonGold, had had a heart attack. He would live, he would be OK, but he wouldn’t be at work for a while. And the last thing he had said before sending Roscoe away was:“I know you won’t let me down.”

He’d said it lying in a hospital bed, already trying to work the day after he’d been flown in by air ambulance, asking for his phone, his tablet, laptop. “You’re going to have to step up. You’re the only Blackton at the company for the next week or two. It’s down to you, Roscoe. I know you won’t let me down.”

So Roscoe had been ordered from his father’s bedside and back to the office, travelling through the night in a company car. He’d fallen asleep at some point and the driver, reverting to the last address in the system, had taken him to the penthouse, where Roscoe, dazed, had walked by habit into his normal bedroom. Seen Poppy asleep in his bed illuminated by moonlight.

He’d been so tired it might have been a dream. He wished it had been. In a dream he could have given in to the disastroustemptation of climbing into that bed. Climbing into the circle of her arms… Just to beheld.But in reality, he turned after a moment’s pause and went to the spare room. Was awakened two hours later by his alarm and dragged himself nauseous and shaky with fatigue into work, forcing down coffee and trying to think through the black fog in his mind. Who needed to be told? Department heads. The board. But keep it quiet—George BlacktonwasBlacktonGold. Many of their clients invested with BG purely for the sake of his reputation—for a brush of his Midas touch. If word got out that he was seriously sick…

“Is he OK?” Poppy asked now.

Roscoe paused typing the email he’d taken refuge in. He felt exposed, on edge. Maybe it was the coffee. The fatigue. But it felt like Poppy could see right through to the fear inside him.

“He’s going to be fine. Can you… I’m sure there’ll be rumours flying around. If anyone asks, can you make reassuring noises, hint that you know it’s only a minor illness?”

“Yes. Of course.”

He nodded his thanks, started typing again.

“And you?” Poppy asked. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine.”

“There were emails from you in my inbox sent at five AM.”

“Sorry. It’ll die down in a day or two. But once everything’s in place—”

“That’s not what I mean,” she interrupted. “Have you slept? Have you even had breakfast?”

Had he? Probably not. His stomach was too full of acid and dread to think of food. He was about to lie—unless coffee counted—when Poppy abruptly stood and left the room. She returned a moment later and put a foil-wrapped package down on his desk.

“Breakfast,” she said. “Eat it.”

Cautiously, he unfolded the foil. Discovered a bagel stuffed with salmon and cream cheese.

“You made me breakfast?” No one had ever made him breakfast.

“No. Well. I made two. Your fridge is ridiculously over-stocked.”

He forced down a vicious lump in his throat, the emotional repression borne of a boarding school education coming in useful. Or maybe he was easier to read than he thought, because Poppy said, awkwardly, “It’s your food anyway.”

Roscoe just nodded. Swallowed again.

“It’s just a bagel.”

Poppy stopped, concerned at the way he was staring at the innocuous bread. It seemed to trouble him deeply. Although she, of all people, could understand exactly how much food meant. “And like I said, it’s your food anyway. Look…” she continued briskly, eager to move on. “About the experiment… Obviously, I’ll move back to my place. You need your flat back. You can’t be stuck in Basildon with crappy wifi and a long commute with all this going on.”

Roscoe frowned. He picked up the bagel, then looked at his monitor, probably scanning a new email. A hundred new emails. “You’re not going back to that flat.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I’ve met your flatmate.” He took a bite, looked from his screen to her, then turned to check one of his other monitors as though this conversation was done.

“Dave’s an idiot, but he’s harmless.”

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