Pippa stared at the document in front of her. All she had to do was sign it, and it was done. The real estate agent hovered expectantly, rightly pleased with himself that he’d upheld his side of the bargain. He’d negotiated a sale and a very fast settlement that would leave her homeless but would satisfy the bank’s conditions. She’d be repaying the last of the bank debt for a couple of years yet, but she wouldn’t be bankrupt and she’d be in control of her own destiny again. She could take her ute and her tools and her dreams somewhere else and start again.
So just bloody sign it.
She glanced up momentarily from the paperwork, in time to catch the dappled twilight filtering through the big jacaranda. She’d loved that tree. Loved the bank of golden wattles beneath it. Loved the yard at the back with its grevilleas and callistemons and lemon myrtle. Had poured so much of herself into creating a little sanctuary that was all her own. The buyer who’d visited that morning had loved it too, loved it so much she’d immediately made an offer which the agent had spent the rest of the day haggling upwards. And here he was, with a pretty good contract, really, considering the state of the market.
Still she hesitated.
It wasn’t just losing the house and leaving her garden; she knew she had to do that. It was leaving Brisbane, leaving the only place she’d known. Leaving Matt, her heart whispered traitorously.
As if she’d conjured him by wishing, she saw the familiar black Audi pull up outside her gate. The agent saw it too, craning his neck and tutting that he should have removed the ‘for sale’ sign already. Then he recognised Matt getting out of the car, and his anxiety ramped up a level, matched by the speed of his patter.
‘Ms Lloyd? The contract? I assure you, I’ve coaxed our buyer as high as she’s likely to go. I don’t believe you’ll get a better price. And I did tell her I’d finalise the sale tonight.’
Pippa was staring, transfixed, at Matt as he unlatched her front gate, and the agent sighed, sensing the sale slip through his fingers. ‘Of course, I understand. You’ll want to talk it over with your … friend.’
Pippa started, as if from a trance. ‘I beg your pardon? No. No, I don’t need to talk it over with anyone at all.’ And picking up the pen, she signed, initialled and dated as the agent hastily peeled back page after page for her attention. She didn’t look up from the document as she heard Matt’s foot ascend the top step, but signed the last page, capped the pen and thrust both pen and paperwork at the agent. He grabbed her hand hastily, awkwardly, and shook it before shoving the contract in his folder and beating a hasty retreat.
Matt was still standing at the top of the verandah, one foot on the top step, as if uncertain he should continue.
‘Congratulations,’ he said quietly. ‘I guess you sold the house.’
Pippa cleared the knot in her throat a couple of times before she could answer. ‘That’s right.’
‘I didn’t realise you were serious about selling. Before today, I mean.’
Her voice was stronger this time. ‘It seems the best solution. Under the circumstances.’ She didn’t invite him up, and didn’t move from her own position behind the little wrought-iron table.
‘There’s a cooling off period, you know, with the contract. Technically it’s for the buyer, if they want to change their mind, but if selling’s not what you want to do, if you want to keep the house, I could—’
Pippa was shaking her head vehemently. ‘No. Thank you. I’ve been through all the options already with your sister. I appreciate you both providing your advice, but this is the right decision for me.’
‘And you’re leaving? Leaving Brisbane?’
‘Probably.’
‘For Bowral?’
‘No. Not Bowral. Not now. I was going to Bowral, but the rental agency ran a credit check and discovered the bank declined my loan and insurance applications. Bowral’s a small place. Turns out the rental agent is married to the council’s human resources manager, so … no job in Bowral.’
Matt stared at her, aghast. ‘I’m sorry, Philippa. I can’t say how sorry I am. But if you’re not going to Bowral, why sell the house? Surely you can stay here, find work in Brisbane?’
He’d taken the three steps to where Pippa was sitting, boxing her in. She pushed back from the table, pressed her fingers against the lacework pattern until she could feel the sharp-edged metal cut impressions in her fingertips. ‘That’s not an option. Keeping the house is not an option. I can’t afford it. And if I can’t find a job soon, staying in Brisbane isn’t an option I can afford either.’
The metal feet of the other chair scraped harshly against the verandah floor as he pushed it out to sit beside her. He leaned in earnestly.
‘So sue me.’
‘No.’
‘Philippa, sue me. Sue me for damages. Sue me for negligence. Sue me for breach of trust. Because that’s what I did. You trusted me with some information in confidence and I breached your trust. Sue me.’
‘No. I’ve already told Marissa no.’
‘Why not? I deserve it. You know I deserve it.’
His gaze was too close, too intense. Pippa averted her head, looked instead across the neat row of native hedges out onto the street. ‘It wouldn’t make any difference. It would take too long. The bank wants its money now.’
‘I won’t contest it. You can have your money by the end of the week.’
‘It’s more than half a million dollars!’
‘I can afford it. I want you to do this, Philippa.’
He’d grasped her hands as he made his entreaty, and Pippa wrenched them out of his grip as she shook her head. ‘No, it’s not right. It was my mistake. It was my mistake lying on the form, and it was my mistake telling you about my family. I should have known better in both instances. I’ll take the consequences.’
Matt swore virulently, thrust his chair away and stomped around the verandah so aggressively that for a full fifteen seconds Pippa pressed her body back against the chair and held her breath rather than contribute oxygen to his temper. Abruptly he stopped and spun to look at her. ‘You realise you’re letting me off scot-free?’
Pippa met his glare full on. ‘I’m not sacrificing my principles to salve your conscience. If you feel bad about what you’ve done, find some other way to fix your karma. But I’ve said over and over, I’m not interested in pursuing legal action.’
‘It wouldn’t have to be drawn-out and difficult, although I believe Marissa is more than well equipped to take on your case and win it. Sue me for damages, I’ll settle immediately, and I’ll advise Consolgard they should reverse their decision on your insurance, that they’re putting themselves at risk of countersuits if they don’t. It could be sorted out fairly quickly, if you’d just allow Marissa to lodge the relevant—’
‘I wish you would listen to me,’ Pippa burst out. ‘It is none of your business. Not any more. It never really was. I wish you would just leave me alone.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Why, Matt? Why can’t you do that?’
He turned away from her cool regard. ‘I feel responsible.’
‘Well, don’t. I’m absolving you of any responsibility. I was the doofus who lied on her application form. You were just doing your job.’
‘No. I wasn’t. I had it in for you, and your application received more attention than the average application would. You can mount a credible case for discrimination.’
‘I can’t imagine your client would be very thrilled about that.’
He shrugged. ‘We’ll lose their business. But I have to set things right for you. I know Eleanor offered you a loan, advance payment of a retainer, to keep your landscaping business going. You should accept that. She really wants your expertise. She’ll be devastated if you go.’
‘That’s very kind. But I’ve designed her garden specifically so it doesn’t need a lot of maintenance. And anyway, landscape gardeners are a dime a dozen. I can give her some recommendations.’
‘It’s not just about the garden. She’s grown fond of you. She enjoys your company.’
‘And so the retainer is for what, exactly? A paid companion for your mother? That’s an insult to us both. Eleanor doesn’t need paid company, and I don’t need money so badly that I’d charge your mother for my conversation. I knew you Masons were old money, with old-fashioned concepts to match, but that’s practically medieval!’
Matt cut off a profanity, shaking his head. He hadn’t put so much as a dent in that icy disdain, and it was clear he knew it. ‘Okay, I get it. You don’t have to go on with it. She was—we were—just trying to help.’
‘Oh yeah? And what other grand ideas have you hatched between you for helping me?’
‘Well, this house contract, for example. I could get that cancelled—’
‘That’s the last thing that will help me. I need to pay the bank—’
‘I’ll get the contract cancelled, and I’ll lend you the money. You can repay the bank in full, and then if it makes you feel better, we can draw up a legal contract for you to repay me instead of the bank. Exactly the same terms as you had before.’
Pippa shook her head in wonder. ‘My god, you’re really something.’ She saw the slow smile spread across Matt’s face and slapped it down with alacrity. ‘Jesus, no! That wasn’t a compliment! Seriously, what planet are you from? What century? You think you can just wave your Mason money around and make everything right again? You think because your mother wants her pet gardener on tap, you can just buy me out? And what do you get out of the deal? Is it just sex I’m supposed to provide as interest, or would you need me to throw in some housekeeping as well? You Masons are unbelievable.’
‘You’re deliberately misunderstanding me. We were only trying to help—’
Pippa had had enough. More than enough. If this was the last time she was to see Matt Mason, she didn’t want any more scars from the encounter. For either of them. Her tone was gentle, but rock hard in its intent. ‘Look, Matt, let’s just stop it there. The very idea is preposterous. Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re here, so we can put an end to this farce? I’ve got a two-week contract settlement and I have packing to do.’
Matt sighed deeply, wearily, and leaned back against the verandah post, his eyes on the fretwork above his head. ‘Eleanor told me you were leaving. I just wanted to see you, to …’
Pippa jutted her chin out a little further, preparing for the insult. ‘To what, Matt? To screw me? One last fuck, for old time’s sake?’
He shook his head sadly. ‘Please don’t keep doing that. Please don’t denigrate what we felt for each other.’
Her composure had fled again, and Pippa took a deep breath, two, to calm her voice, control her trembling fury so she could challenge his appeal without weeping. ‘What we felt for each other? From what I can gather, you’ve felt a healthy chunk of lust mixed in with jealousy of your younger brother and rolled up with some bizarre feudal urge to play out your lord-of-the-manor tendencies with your mother’s hired help.’
‘Stop it, Philippa, that’s not true.’
‘That’s not true? Then tell me, Matt, what is true? What did we feel for each other?’
‘You loved me!’
The force of the shock smacked Pippa so hard in the solar plexus, she had to grip the iron filigree beneath her clenched fingers to prevent herself doubling over.
‘Please don’t deny it. You loved me. It wasn’t the sex that brought me back night after night. It was knowing you loved me.’
Pippa called up every inch of pride she had in her, straightened her spine, met his eye. ‘I don’t deny it. I did love you. In spite of your distrust, your accusations, your threats, even in spite of your betrayal, I loved you. More fool me. You know, I’d have done almost anything to stay in your life, to have you stay in my bed. It’s been a salutary lesson, Matt, on just how much I’m like my mother, no matter how hard I’ve tried not to be. I was prepared to put up with pretty much anything, any amount of appalling behaviour from you, all in the desperate hope you’d eventually love me back.’
‘I did love you back.’
Pippa snorted and pushed away from the table.
‘Philippa, I did love you back. I didn’t want to. I don’t deny I fought it. I have my own family examples of relationships to terrorise myself with, just as bad as yours. But in the end I realised it was a lost cause. I couldn’t help loving you. I still can’t. I love you. I would do anything, literally anything—liquidate my assets, abandon my client, destroy my reputation—to undo what I did to you. I’ve wracked my brain trying to come up with ways to fix things between us; you’ve rejected every one. So please, tell me. Tell me what it will take for you to love me again, for us to be together again, and I’ll do it.’
Pippa released the breath she’d been holding, forced her fingers to let go of the table, rubbed her thumbs over the impressions the ironwork had left. Matt had just said he loved her. The moon and stars were within her reach.
She couldn’t take them.
She looked up at the proud, suffering man in front of her. Stress had carved grooves in Matt’s cheeks she longed to soothe. He looked quite as devastated as she felt. She didn’t doubt his sincerity. She knew he believed every word he told her. But more than anything else she knew, she knew his love could hurt her, could destroy her. She had no protection against him, except what she gave herself. She had to make him understand.
‘Matt, it’s not a question of love. It never has been, for us.’ She saw his fists clench in response to her gentle, implacable words. ‘From the very beginning, it’s been a question of trust. You’ve never trusted me, and you’ve given me more reasons than you can ever know for me not to trust you. I don’t know how we get past that. I don’t even know if I want to.’
She jerked away from the beseeching hand he held out to her. ‘I love you, yes, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to love anyone this much. It makes me weak. It makes me powerless. And you trying to control me, to buy me, just convinces me more than ever that the best thing I can do for myself is to get the hell away from you. I think it would be best for me if we didn’t see each other again.’
Matt rested his head against his arm on the balustrade and stared out at the twilight. When he finally spoke, his voice was so low she had to strain to hear it.
‘Okay. Okay. If that’s what you want. I realise I have no right to ask you anything at all, but will you please do one thing for me? Will you please talk to Marissa?’
‘I’ve already talked to Marissa.’
‘Will you please talk to her again? You have to see that you can’t just stick your head in the sand over this insurance issue.’
‘Oh, is that what I’m doing?’
‘Yes, Philippa, that’s precisely what you’re doing. You’ve lost your business. You’re losing your house. You’ve just lost a job because of this situation. Who knows when you’ll be offered another one. Put your hatred of me aside for a minute and for god’s sake listen. If you don’t get some help, if you don’t seek some advice, if you don’t take some legal action to protect yourself and your financial record, you will never recover from this. The record will follow you around for the rest of your life. Everything you’ve done, everything you’ve worked for, will be for nothing. Please, please talk to Marissa.’
Pippa had no more fight left, and from his defeated posture, the resignation in his tone, it seemed Matt didn’t either. It was over. It was done. She badly needed to sob, to wail, to scream over the ending. She badly needed to hold him.
She needed to let him go, and move on.
‘All right. I’ll talk to Marissa.’
***
Marissa picked up on the second ring.
‘She’s going to call you. You can’t have spent all those years in law school for nothing. Find a solution. But it has to be genuine or she’ll never go for it. Find a loophole. Find something.’
‘But you’re the commercial law genius …’ Marissa protested.
Matt had already hung up the phone.
***
Marissa had been silent a long time, poring over the file. They’d been at it for what seemed like days, though the government-issue wall clock Pippa had fixed her gaze on insisted she’d been there just over one hour.
‘Why didn’t you disclose it?’ Marissa’s abrupt question startled Pippa.
‘Sorry?’
‘The family history of alcoholism. Why didn’t you disclose it?’
Pippa felt the blush of shame creep up her face. It was a fair question, and Marissa was trying to help. But she was tired, and frustrated, and in spite of herself, defensive.
‘I didn’t see how it was relevant. Yes, my father was an alcoholic, but that doesn’t mean I am. If anything, his drinking caused the opposite tendency in me; I rarely drink at all. And I was ashamed of my father and his alcoholism and I didn’t want to be tarred with his brush and I don’t believe there is a family history of alcoholism. There’s his history and there’s mine, and when it comes to alcohol they’re entirely different. Anyway I thought it was none of their business so I lied. I didn’t disclose it.’
‘That’s an interesting argument.’
‘Well, perhaps you can come up with a better one, but that’s the truth.’
‘No, I mean it. That’s an interesting argument. How is alcoholism relevant to this insurance anyway? Health insurance I can perhaps understand, but mortgage insurance? Public liability insurance? If there was a liability claim and they found out you’d been drinking they just wouldn’t pay on the claim. There’s no actual risk to them in accepting your premium because they have so many protections built into their policy conditions. You were within your rights not to answer the question about your family’s history with alcoholism, but they forced you to lie about it.’
‘Forced me to lie? How did they force me?’
‘It was an online application, right? Here, see, here’s the printout. Here’s the list of all the medical conditions they required you to answer to, and they’ve only allowed you two answers: yes or no.’
‘And I said no, which was a lie.’
‘Yes, but they didn’t give you a choice, Philippa!’
Pippa tried to tamp down the frustration vying with her bewilderment. ‘Of course they did. They gave me the choice to tell the truth.’
‘No. No. They had no right to require an answer from you at all. There is no scientific agreement that alcoholism is even genetic, let alone that a family history of alcoholism increases your risk from an insurance perspective. They had no right to even ask you that question, and no right to force you to answer yes or no. But you had no choice; to progress to the next question in the online application, you had to give an answer to the question they shouldn’t have even asked. Hell, half of these medical conditions they’ve listed have no bearing on your insurability. And their argument now isn’t about your father’s alcoholism; it’s about your failure to disclose it when you had every right not to. We could make a counter-claim under the privacy provisions, demonstrating they’ve been collecting private information about their clients they had no legal right to, and turn the whole thing back on them.’
Marissa slapped the file shut with a pound of satisfaction. ‘We’re going to challenge the validity of their application form. We’re going to argue they collected information they had no right to collect, specifically to avoid paying out legitimate claims. And we’re going to win.’
Marissa sat back with a great heave of satisfaction. Pippa was still cautious. ‘Will the insurance company fight us?’
‘Probably. But if I make the case strongly enough, they might decide to accept your claim and settle. There’ll be some assessment of risk against future claims, and the thing is, if we take this to court, it will open up the floodgates and they’ll have all sorts of claims coming at them for wrongful judgements and exclusion of payouts. We could sue them for compensation for loss of your house, business disruption and professional reputation. Your claim’s likely to come in at around the million mark, and they won’t want too many more like that. They’ll want to settle quietly. I’ll have to seek some advice about what other terms we might get away with, but let’s start with that, anyway. So what do you think? Do I have your permission to proceed?’
For the first time in what seemed like a very long time, Pippa felt a gurgle of hope erupt somewhere at the bottom of her belly. She nodded, slowly. ‘Thank you. Yes. If you really think my claim is legitimate, if you think it will work, then yes, please go ahead.’
Marissa fist-pumped the air. ‘Thank you! My first case that isn’t chasing down late child maintenance payments or arguing with the rental bond authority. I’ll write the letter this afternoon and give them fourteen days to respond. And you know what else we’re going to ask them? We’re going to ask them to show some good faith in the interim and extend your public liability cover while the claim’s being determined. That way, you’ll be covered to keep going with your business.’
The hope bubble gurgled higher and louder. Still Pippa couldn’t quite believe it. ‘Really? Would they do that? I don’t have any capital, but I could start doing some small jobs again, cover my expenses in the meantime …’
‘Or you could just sue Matt. I’ll write him a letter this afternoon and you’ll have money in your account by Friday. If you want to get back on your feet quickly, that’s your best option.’
‘For the last time, no. I’m not suing Matt. If you believe my case is legitimate, we try the insurance company first. If they’ll reverse their decision to not cover me, I can still keep my business going. I could try to refinance again with another bank.’
‘Pippa, that will still take time. You’ve still had to sell your home. Don’t you want some compensation for that? Besides, the insurance claim could drag out for months. I know I said we’ll win, but it could still take time. They’ll still fight it, probably. You still need money, you still need to live in the meantime. Matt will settle immediately, you know that.’
‘I know. But it was a mistake. He didn’t mean to pursue it.’
‘Not in the end, no. But you should be under no illusions about how ruthless Matt can be. He was prepared to ruin you.’
‘To protect his family. I know that’s morally questionable, but Marissa, you don’t know what it’s like to not have that kind of family devotion, to not feel safe in your family, to not know your family members would do anything, give anything, for you. You’ve always had that, so you’ve never had to want it. But for me … I think it’s a wonderful quality your brother has.’
‘You love him.’
‘I’m not talking about him as a man, I’m talking about his—’
‘You love him.’
‘Yes. Yes, I do.’
‘Sue him. Because he loves you, too, and after all that’s happened, all that he’s done, he needs a way to make amends.’
‘That’s not the way. That’s not what I want.’
‘Then what do you want, Philippa? Whatever it is, you only have to ask. He’ll give it to you. If it’s in his power to give, he’ll give it to you. What do you want?’
There was the crux of it. Pippa really didn’t know. She’d wanted his love, and he’d told her she had it, and it wasn’t enough. She wanted guarantees, and she knew nobody could give her those. Nobody but herself. She was the only guarantee. She could never allow herself to forget that.
‘I don’t know what I want. But I know what I don’t want. I don’t want Matt’s money. Money’s easy.’
‘It’s more than just the money, Philippa. If it’s revenge you want, don’t discount the impact on Matt that a legal suit will have. He risks being disbarred. At the very least he’ll face disciplinary action from the law society. He’ll lose his position on the law society board, he’ll lose the respect of his peers, the confidence of his clients. He’ll lose big time, I assure you. So when he tells you to sue him, he’s not being flippant, and neither am I.’
Shock that Marissa might think Pippa actually wanted revenge battled with the awareness that Matt’s sister was almost …
‘Gleeful. You’re not being flippant at all, Marissa, you’re practically gleeful.’ Gleeful was the word, and as soon as she’d said it, she saw Marissa blush, then shrug away her embarrassment.
‘Yes, okay, that’s fair. He’s my big, know-it-all, always perfect, always winning brother. I would like once, just once, for somebody to put him back on his self-righteous sorry arse. It’s a rare thing for Matt to make a mistake, and I for one don’t see why we shouldn’t have the equally rare pleasure of seeing him pay for it.’
‘Then you’ll have to find somebody else to be your flunky. I’m okay now. I’m going to avoid bankruptcy, and if your action with Consolgard is successful, I won’t even lose my business. I’m not taking Matt’s money just to give you some kind of perverse sibling satisfaction, and I won’t have his career, his reputation, his pride destroyed on my account.’
‘Not even for the sisterhood?’
‘Not even for the sisterhood.’
‘What about for a sister?’
‘I don’t have a sister.’
‘You don’t have a sister yet. Matt will ask you to marry him.’
‘No.’
‘Yes. Matt will ask you to marry him.’
‘What, out of some sense of misplaced obligation because I haven’t sued him?’
‘No, you moron. Out of love. He loves you.’
‘He loves sleeping with me,’ Pippa corrected.
‘Is it so ridiculous to think he might have fallen in love with you?’
Pippa stared fiercely, furiously, at the clock over Marissa’s head, until the blurred second hand orbited the numbers clearly again. She counted its progress until it reached the twelve before she chanced a look at Matt’s sister, confident she had the tears under control.
‘He means too much,’ she said. ‘If I begin to imagine he loves me and it turns out he doesn’t … I know it sounds overly dramatic, but I really don’t think I could go on. I don’t want to be that person, clinging for dear life to a man who doesn’t want me. If I’m going to end up on my own, I’d rather be that way from the start. I can handle being lonely. I don’t think I can handle being left.’
‘Wow. Wow. Is that what it is? I thought your issue with Matt was you didn’t want him controlling you, like your father controlled your mother.’
‘There was that, yes. Early on, that’s what I thought. But Matt’s nothing like my father. I see that now.’
‘Well, he’s nothing like your mother, either. He wouldn’t leave you, Pip.’
‘You can’t know that for sure.’
‘No, I guess I can’t. But he’s an honourable man, and he’s not trivial. He doesn’t play games. He does love you, I can see it. Give him a chance, Philippa. Trust him.’
‘I can’t. I don’t think I know how.’
‘Then what are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to pack up my house and start again.’
‘This is so stupid. You could be together. You could be happy.’
‘I don’t think I believe in happy.’
‘You don’t believe in happy? Jesus, Philippa, then what do you believe in?’
It took Pippa a minute or two before she found an answer. ‘I believe in myself.’
I believe in myself.
***
It had been a long week. He’d finalised the negotiations that would see Consolgard leave his family’s law firm after nearly sixty years, and while there was still the potential for the insurance giant to pursue claims against his firm down the track, Matt was confident he’d done all he could to protect his partners and secure employment for his staff. It could have been worse. Not much, but some.
He’d shaken hands with Consolgard’s managing director, a man the same vintage as Matt’s father and who had always treated Matt with a kind of paternal indulgence.
‘The end of an era, Matty. I’m sorry to see it. Your father would be sorry, too.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘A damned fool thing.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Well, it’s done now. I can’t say I understand it, and I think you’ve made a big mistake. One of several, by the looks of things, so perhaps it’s for the best. Your father was a fool about women, too.’
Matt stiffened. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Oh, Ed never actually lost a client over it, but there were times I swear he was so distracted by Eleanor and her goings-on, it was a damned near miracle he didn’t destroy the firm. Your man Simon told one of my people: this whole debacle’s because of a woman you’ve got messed up with. They’re never worth it, Matty, trust me on that one.’
‘I’ve resigned your account over a point of principle, John. The fact that the client in question happens to be a woman is incidental.’
The elder man slapped the younger heartily on the back. ‘You just keep telling yourself that, son. All I can say is, she must be one helluva woman to be worth breaking up your client list. I hope she rewards you appropriately. Make sure our files are transferred by the end of the week, hmm?’
Matt wanted to argue, wanted to deny the barely veiled sexual conjecture, wanted to point out that his action wouldn’t reap him any rewards of that nature at all. Philippa was a helluva woman, for all the fat lot of good it did him. He’d resigned the account because it was the right thing to do, knowing it would make no difference at all to her decision to split with him. She’d likely never even hear of it. It irked, and badly, that his attempt to redress a legal wrong was being interpreted by his peers as a strategic error driven by his cock.
He wasn’t sure John had even made the connection between Marissa’s legal aid claim that Consolgard had that day agreed to settle, and the conflict in law Matt had raised in justifying his decision to resign the account. No doubt his competitors were shaking their heads in delighted bewilderment over an action that, when you looked at it from a business perspective, made no sense at all. Even his partners had protested, his fine words about ethics and principles and honour and the spirit of the law shouted down below their insistence that if you’d made an error of interpretation, you defended it anyway or risked exposing the error.
He’d overruled them in the end, using the weight of his family’s history of ownership of the firm, but he had no doubt there were bridges he’d burned he might never mend. And with the Consolgard contingent now gone and his colleagues barely speaking to him, he shut his office door behind him and sank into the leather couch that overlooked the city.
There had to be some good come out of it all. He wasn’t convinced Consolgard’s new lawyers would be prepared to give their client the right advice, the advice he’d tried to give and had had rejected, but he’d written comprehensive notes about the legal risks of continuing with their current application policies. It was up to them now. And at least, in the meantime, Marissa had had a win. She’d texted him while he was in the middle of the Consolgard discussions: they were considering Philippa’s claim and would cover her business in the meantime.
It was great news. He could picture her face when she received it, could see in his mind’s eye the flush of relief that would start somewhere in line with her ears and suffuse cheeks and nose and forehead. He could see the crinkles appearing at the corners of her eyes, the distinctive ‘thank you’ smile she wore that was at once sincere and effusive and restrained, as if she couldn’t believe her luck, as if she didn’t deserve the gift she’d just received.
It wasn’t enough. It was never enough, imagining. He’d spent the past week with Philippa’s face, Philippa’s voice, Philippa’s touch always in his head, desperate to hang onto her, desperate to hang onto the memory of her because he knew when she said she didn’t want to see him any more, she’d meant it.
It was so stupid. She loved him. He knew she did. If he could see her again, hold her again, he thought he could perhaps persuade her. She’d been hurt, and it was his fault, but she had to see—he had to make her see—he’d give up everything he had before he’d ever hurt her again.
He’d use the Consolgard news as his excuse. Marissa wouldn’t mind, or if she did, he’d make it up to her. But he needed to see Philippa, needed to be the one to tell her she’d had a win at last. Needed to see that gracious, surprised, remarkable smile unfold across her face.
His secretary, the one he’d inherited from his father, didn’t look at him as he rushed out of the office.