Page 49 of The Redemption of Alex Cade
“It’s my resignation letter, I suppose.”
Kelvin’s brows creased hard as his mouth gaped. I’d never seen him at such a loss and I’d have laughed if it were remotely funny.
“Read it. I’ve spent hours and hours with Henry Parker. Not at his firm, of course. I visited him at home, just the two of us, with strict instructions not to be disturbed. He was surprised when I told him what I wanted.”
Henry Parker. Kelvin and I were private clients, whonever contacted him at his office, had no connection at all with his respectable legal practice.
“What do you want, Alex?”
“You already know. Read it. The first couple of pages will you give you more than the gist of it. The rest is the detail you can go over later. You know, when everything’s laid out on paper—the property and other physical assets, all the stuff we have in our joint names—it’s a bit of a shock to the system how much of it there is, and how much it’s worth. I mean, we both already knew it, but there’s something about seeing it all listed out in black and white. And that doesn’t even include the cash.”
Kelvin drew the envelope towards him, all the time keeping his gaze fixed on me, and pulled out the wad of papers, every bit as cream and heavy as the envelope itself. His gaze dropped from me to the first page, the heavy V between his brows growing deeper as he read. I knew exactly what it said, I knew it almost word for word, but the essence of it was contained in one paragraph, everything else was details. I sat back, and braced myself for the explosion.
“What the fuck is this?” Kelvin, his face whiter than I’d ever seen it, let the stapled together papers fall from his fingers.
“It’s exactly what it says it is. It’s all there in black and white. I’m making over my interest in the business to you. My half of the physical assets, my half of the cash, my half of everything. Put your signature to the paper and it’s done. But if you don’t,” I said with a shrug, “it makes the process a bit more complicated, but it doesn’t stop it from happening.” I met his eye. Christ, but I was shaking inside. Never had I thought anything like this would or could ever happen, not to us
“You’ve forced my hand, Kel. This,” I nodded to thedocument, lying on the desk, “is all your fault, all your doing.”
“No.” Kelvin shook his head hard. “You’re willing to give it all up and walk away from everything we’ve sweated blood over forhim?”
Kelvin shot up, his chair toppling over behind him. He glared down at me, breathing hard. My muscles tensed and my heart rate jumped as I waited for the onslaught. I half expected him to make a lunge for me, but instead he swung away from me and faced the row of monitors showing the packed dance floor. His shoulders were heaving and his head was bowed and for a moment I thought he was crying, until I remembered I’d never, not once, seen Kelvin cry.
He straightened up and turned to face me. His composure was back, but I knew it could only be surface deep. He pulled the bottle of whisky from the shelf, slopped some into a glass and knocked it back in one.”
“What is it about him, Alex? I don’t get it. What is it about him that makes you want to turn your life on its head and walk away from everything we’ve built up together?” He looked down at the papers; picking them up he stared at them as though it was the first time he’d seen them. A slow smile spread across his face. Cold, hard, yet sly, my stomach twisted as his eyes met mine.
“Oh, babe,” he said, his voice falling into that familiar purr I knew so well. “You know as well as I do I can’t sign this, or anything like it.” Slowly, deliberately, he tore the papers in half, before letting them fall from his fingers.
If push came to shove, if he was standing on the edge, he wouldn’t choose you. He might think he would, but he wouldn’t.The words Kelvin had said to Kit, the words Kit had repeated to me. Here and now, with Kelvin in the placewhere it had all began, I was standing on the edge. I turned away, making the only choice I could.
“Parker’ll be in touch.”
I pushed myself up from the desk, and made for the door. I’d taken no more than a couple of steps when heavy hands fell to my shoulders and swung me around.
“What do you think?—”
“Alex, Alex, Alex,” Kelvin said mockery lacing his words. “Did you really think a scribbled signature on a scrap of paper was going to make any difference to us? If you did, well, that’s some pretty major delusion you’ve got going on. Sweet little Kitten’s corrosive influence has been stronger than I gave it credit for. Thing is, you made your real choice about your life, about what and who you are, years ago. We both did. That means it’s you and me, babe. Always has been, always will be, whatever lies you tell yourself. You can spend hours, days, weeks with that bent little lawyer. You can have a hundred documents drawn up. None of them will make any difference.”
I tried to shove him away, but I might just as well have been pushing at a brick wall. He cupped his palms either side of my face, his thumbs striking up a slow stroke across my cheekbones. Tilting his head, his gaze slowly took in every inch of my face as, suddenly, he used all his weight and strength to push me into the wall, winding me as my head hit the plaster.
His face was a hair’s breadth from mine. My world, already knocked from its axis, went into free fall.
I was aware of him in a way I’d never been before. Of his dark eyes, the darker stubble which always shadowed his olive skin, of his full, smiling lips. The woodsy, heavy scent of his cologne drenched my senses. My breathing, my heart beat, the rush of blood racing through my veins, all of it wasdeafening. If anybody came in now, they would think we were about to…
Shoving him away with everything I had, I lurched and stumbled for the door, only wanting to outrun everything that had happened in that hot and airless room, and everything that hadn’t.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
KIT
At 11.00am, my manager sent me home and told me not to come in for the rest of the week. I’d spent most of the time I’d been at work puking up in the toilets. A bad stomach bug, I muttered. But I didn’t go home because home didn’t feel safe anymore. It had been violated and tainted and I felt an impotent rage at Kelvin for it. I’d heard and read about people who’d been burgled, how their home, their safe place, was never the same again and now I understood.
I found a coffee shop and hunkered down in the corner, the pastry I’d bought to go with it untouched in front of me. Coffee was about all I’d existed on for what felt like forever. I looked at my phone, at the one message Alex had sent me.Call me.That was all, the message sent late the night before. There hadn’t been an unending stream of calls or messages from him since I’d told him to go, told him I had to think, told him I had to decide if I wanted, if I could, have him in my life. Perhaps it was irrational because a big part of me wanted him to chase and plead and beg, as much as I wantedto be left alone to go over and over and over again what I’d been told. Yes, it was irrational because love’s irrational.
And there was the problem.
I loved Alex. It all boiled down to that.
