Page 69 of Mean Machine

Keys were placed on probably a sideboard. Steps approached. Brooklyn turned on the couch to face whoever it was.

At first, it was even hard to tell whether the person was a man or woman. The features were too delicate, the body slim, the skin pale and unblemished either by beard shadow or something as vulgar as pores. For a moment, Brooklyn was convinced it was a woman dressed in a slim-fitted tailored suit in a lighter grey than Nathaniel normally favoured. But the voice was male, if soft. “Oh, Eric. And—Mr Marshall, I presume. I’m sorry if I’m disturbing.”

He was pretty disturbing. With his pale complexion, the high cheekbones and grey-blue eyes under blond hair with just the hint of a reddish tint, he looked very much like born and bred upper-class English, and his voice had the same level of refinement.

“What are you doing here, Dion?”

Dion spread his delicate hands. “Merely picking up some files that Nathaniel requested. He couldn’t remember whether he left them in the house or here.”

“Check the car. He dropped a whole armload of stuff into the boot.”

“Ah, yes, a good idea. I’ll drive to the house if it’s not there, then.” Dion regarded Brooklyn with a slightly raised eyebrow. It was the kind of look Brooklyn would have placed with an English lord. A look that called him riffraff without a single eyelash being batted or even so much as a twitch of a muscle. “Mr Marshall, I apologise for intruding, but please allow me to congratulate you on your big news. Even I heard that your fight has been confirmed. It was on the BBC.”

“Thanks.”

Dion inclined his head. “I shall be off. Have a splendid day, Mr Marshall. Eric.” He turned around, six feet of style and flawless beauty, and Brooklyn breathed a little easier when Dion was gone.

“That’s a colleague?” The posh accent would fit, same with the suit, but Dion looked more like a socialite or model than a legal professional.

“Yeah. Bishop once told me Dion is actually the better lawyer. I don’t doubt it.”

“Sounds like you don’t like him.”

“Eh.” Eric shrugged. “Try to ignore him. He’s usually happy to be left in peace. Most of the time, he’s working on a case or doing research.”

Just a bit too smoothly dismissive. “So how close are they?”

Eric winced. “Well, they were married, but the divorce has been through for a long time now, and was filed about the same time I joined the household, so that’s… three, four years ago. They still work together, but they’re not dating anymore, or spend any private time together, really, at least as far as I can tell.”

Seemed a lot had happened roughly at the same time—or at least in the span of a few months, from Brooklyn’s conviction, Nathaniel’s break-up with Dion, and likely Nathaniel taking Hazel in. It was genuinely nice of Eric to defuse the awkward situation. As a driver, he’d have the inside view on Nathaniel’s private life, and Nathaniel in turn would see no reason to hide any further entanglements with Dion from a driver. He wasn’t that kind of person. Certainly not considering Eric had known from the start about Nathaniel’s entanglements with Brooklyn, so that held water.

“That sounds almost like you’re invested in this thing with Nathaniel working out.” Brooklyn gave him a wide grin to soften the probing question.

“What? I prefer him to be happy and dating again because, while he can be unaware how the other ninety-five percent live, he’s not a bad guy. Or a bad boss. And honestly, I prefer him dating you than that reptile.”

Brooklyn laughed. Yes, there was something quite bird-like about Dion—something aloof and straight-backed and ultimately cold, and it wasn’t even his beauty so much as his breeding. And it did make Brooklyn feel better, though how on earth had Nathaniel bonded with somebody like that enough to marry him?

Brooklyn shook himself. “Right.” He spotted the TV remote on a shelf and picked it up. “Should we see if we can find some boxing on?”

WHEN THEdoor opened again, it was Nathaniel. Eric stood, picked up the mugs, and took them to the kitchen. He greeted his boss with no more than a nod, and Nathaniel gave him a smile as Eric quickly made his exit.

Brooklyn remained seated, watching Nathaniel hang up his jacket and stash his briefcase away. He didn’t wear a tie that he could have loosened or pulled off; instead, he opened another button on his fine shirt.

“Good evening. I’m sorry this took so long.”

“No problem. You’re busy?”

“I had a meeting with some senior barristers.” Nathaniel waved his hand. “It’s all pretty dry and technical.”

“I’ve not exactly been the most approachable, have I?”

Nathaniel frowned and took a step closer. “As measured against what standards?”

“I don’t know. Other people.”

“After what you’ve been through, I think you’re doing fine.” Nathaniel sat down on the chair Eric had vacated.

Part of Brooklyn wished Nathaniel would come to sit over on his side of the table. The TV was now too much of a distraction; he switched it off. “I want to try. I mean, to get closer.”

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