Page 28 of Beautiful Liar

Before me, Ash tries to keep his composure, but the man is unraveling. I bet he can see his quarter of a million gambling debt rushing at full speed toward him. Or perhaps it’s the potential loss of the Soho loft where he stashes his mistress that’s making him sweat.

“Do you know that two of the consortium members indulge in underage sex? Or that the head has quashed four counts of domestic abuse brought by his wife in the past two years?”

He stops pacing and his mouth drops open. “No! Jesus, I had no idea, Quinn, I swear to you. We did all our due diligence, used the investigation firm we always use.”

I shrug. “They were good at covering their tracks, but I’m better.”

Ash nods. “I…of course. I’ll stall for as long as you want me to. Or we can tear up the contract. I’m sure we can find a loophole that’ll protect us. Failing that, we’ll tie them up in court for years.”

“No. I’ll handle the consortium.”

His face turns puce as if he’s about to hurl. Sweat drips down his temple. “Quinn, I’m begging. My twins are about to go to Yale. I’ve remortgaged the roof over their heads just to pay for tuition. I can’t lose this job. Give me another chance.”

He’s lying, of course. He remortgaged his house to pay for his mistress. His wife is paying for his kids’ tuition with her inheritance.

I stand and round the table to perch against my desk. “You want to save your job?”

“Yes!”

“Tell me, what are the top five properties my father still keeps his eyes on? His pet projects.”

Ash looks uneasy. “But…you’ve taken over his portfolio.”

I deliver a ghost of a smile. “I know he calls you once a week to check on some of the deals we’re working on. Top five. I need the names.” I harden my voice.

His Adam’s apple bobs. “I, uh, there are two in Boston—Blackwood One and Blackwood Two, the condo project in Miami, the stud farm in Montana your stepmother insisted he buy last year, and a building that houses the junior philharmonic orchestra in Philly.”

I wasn’t aware of the stud farm, but the rest are as I guessed. I hitch my thigh over the side of the desk and cross my arms. “How much did we give away to charity last year, Ash?”

“I don’t have the numbers to hand but I can check for you.”

“Ballpark it.”

“Uh…possibly in the region of a quarter of a billion.”

“How much of that was recouped in tax breaks?”

Another dribble of sweat makes its way down the side of his face. “All of it.”

I nod. “Here’s how you get to keep your job, Ash. By five pm today, I want an iron-clad contract ready for me to sign, together with a press release.”

“I…sure, just give me the details.”

I stand. “It’ll be in your inbox by the time you get back. Don’t fail me, Ash.”

“I won’t. Thank you, sir.”

He scurries out and I return to my desk. My gaze immediately zeroes in on the time. Quarter to one.

The faintest of tremors shakes through me. I hit send on the email I prepared for Ash before I rang him. I take care of a few more business items, until my intercom buzzes. I lay my pen down.

“Send her in.”

The first thing that comes through is the solid silver executive trolley given to each Blackwood Estate board member two Christmases ago. I look past it as the door widens.

She enters with a touch of hesitancy, which she covers with a brisk intake of her surroundings.

Her green eyes meet mine and she swallows. The clench in my abs tells me I haven’t imagined the effect she has on me. Or I on her. She stares at me for charged seconds before she heads for the twelve-seater dining table set on the far side of my office.

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