Replacing the receiver, Seb got up from the desk that had once been his father’s. Straightening his suit jacket, he made his way down to the Peacock’s casino.
Nodding to one of the many security on the door, he smiled pleasantly at a group of customers depositing their coats in the cloakroom, before continuing into the gaming room.
He glanced around the busy tables, pleased to see the croupiers were, as usual, immaculately presented and doing exactly what they should be – making him money.
Things were ticking over nicely. Just the final handover with the Irish’s ammo order tomorrow and then that was one more thing out of the way. However, Andrew would have to oversee that, being as he’d arranged for his evening to be spent with Samantha Reynold…
Seb’s lips twitched into a smirk as he approached the table in the VIP section where two of his brothers sat. Tomorrow he would know for sure exactly how little idea Samantha had about anything in this game. He’d pretty much deduced that already, but it never hurt to make sure. Once that was done, he’d be in a better position to see how much his forced assistance to the Reynold clan would be of use to the Peacock. That’s what all of this was about, after all.
Motioning to the barman to prepare a drink, Seb sauntered across to the table and stared at the two women sitting with Neil and Gary. The women’s eyes lit up as he approached, their excitement short-lived when he spoke. ‘Excuse my interruption, ladies, but I need to speak to my brothers.’
Crestfallen, the women hastily grabbed their clutch bags and reluctantly scuttled off to another table.
‘Do you have to embarrass yourself by allowing them to drape all over you?’ Seb snapped, plonking himself down in the vacated space on the crescent-shaped seating.
‘I didn’t invite them over,’ Gary sniffed, looking at Neil pointedly.
Seb nodded his thanks as a waiter deposited a large whisky on the table. No, Gary wouldn’t have approached the women. That was definitely Neil’s talent. He certainly spent enough time practising it. ‘I’ve just been on the phone bringing Dad up to speed,’ he said, looking between his brothers. ‘I’ll be spending time with Samantha Reynold tomorrow night. It seems she’s not aware of anything that’s been going on.’
‘Well, there’s a surprise!’ Neil rolled his eyes. ‘I still can’t believe you’re wasting your time helping her!’
‘Who said I am?’ Seb raised his eyebrows. ‘But Dad’s right. We need to offer our assistance to some extent – at least until we find out exactly what is linked regarding Len Reynold.’ He glanced at Neil, knowing his brother would understand that his look concerned the unsavoury rumours.
‘I’ve heard nothing since,’ Neil said, swigging from a bottle of Budweiser.
‘What’s this?’ Gary frowned. ‘Has something else happened?’
‘No, nothing.’ Seb smiled. And there should be no more happening on that subject either since the one spreading the shit was no more. ‘But we do need to deduce whether Reynold’s accident was an accident.’ The one thing he did know was that the ‘accident’ couldn’t have been anything to do with that ginger-haired bloke because the man couldn’t have been in two places at once.
Looking up, Neil raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh, Christ, what’s the matter with him?’
Following Neil’s gaze, Seb watched Andrew rapidly approaching their table, his face like thunder.
‘Who pissed on your chips?’ Neil laughed.
‘I’ll tell you, shall I?’ Andrew spat. Sitting down, he took a cigarette from his monogrammed silver case with shaking fingers. ‘I’ve just been down to the private stock room to check how much coke we’ve got out the back and as I walked past the wine cellar, I happened to overhear a conversation…’
The back of Seb’s neck prickled. ‘Right? And…?’
Andrew drank greedily from the whisky that had just been placed on the table and waited until the barman retreated. ‘The conversation was about which one of us isn’t a true Stoker…’
He looked at Seb and then at Neil, his eyes narrowing at their exchanged glances. ‘Wait a minute. You knew about this? You knew this shit was being bandied around and didn’t mention it to me?’
Seb shrugged. ‘It came up last week. Some shit-for-brains thought it would be a good idea to use as leverage.’
Andrew’s fists clenched. ‘I’ll kill the fucker!’
‘No need… That’s been dealt with,’ Seb muttered. ‘But it seems the rumour is still rife…’ He wouldn’t mention Neil had almost thought about believing it. He wasn’t having that start again.
Andrew stared at his brother, the penny dropping. ‘So that’s what all that business was about that night I finally found you at the apartment…?’
‘What?’ Neil said, watching Andrew and Seb exchange knowing glances. ‘Now I’m missing something.’
‘No one’s missing anything!’ Seb hissed, glancing around. He was not discussing Jock’s removal here. ‘And keep your fucking voices down.’
‘If this rumour is still flying around, then we have to do something about it,’ Neil pushed.
Gary slammed his glass on the table. ‘Why have I not been told of this? Aren’t we all supposed to be part of this business and this family? I’m sick of being treated as an afterthought! We are brothers, after all.’
Andrew looked at Gary, his sandy hair a stark contrast to the dark brown of his and the others. ‘You sure about that, Gary?’
Blanching, Gary stiffened. ‘What are you trying to say?’
Seb looked up quickly. ‘You shouldn’t have said that, Andrew.’
Andrew shrugged. ‘Perhaps not, but don’t tell me you haven’t thought it!’ He looked Gary up and down. ‘I mean, he’s never really been like us, has he? Even his fucking hair’s the wrong colour!’
Neil nodded in agreement with his twin. ‘He hasn’t got the eyes, either. His are blue, not green.’
Gary trembled with a combination of hurt and rage. Ever since he could remember, he’d been the butt of his brothers’ jibes. He knew as the youngest, his mother had babied him, cultivating a softer personality compared to that of his louder and competitive brothers, but he’d never ever thought any of them would throw something like this at him.
He felt his hands clenching into fists. ‘You pair of cunts!’ he roared, his eyes wild as he pushed himself up from the table, whisky and lager slopping onto the thick, plush carpet. He lurched across the table, his hands grasping for Andrew’s suit lapels. ‘I do everything I can for this fucking family and you say this sort of sh…’
‘Enough!’ Seb roared, jumping from his seat and ripping Gary’s hand from Andrew’s jacket. He glared between all three of his brothers. ‘You’re all making a fucking scene and I will not have it, do you understand?’
He nodded in the direction of the bar for replacement drinks and then swept his glare around anyone in the vicinity who may think it wise to stare at the commotion. ‘We do not discuss this in public or anywhere ever again,’ he hissed. ‘It’s not something any of us should or will think and I won’t hear any more about it, understand?’
Seb jerked his head at Andrew and then towards the door. ‘You – fuck off out of my sight.’ He then turned to Neil. ‘And not one more peep from you either!’
He stared contemptuously at the stain of whisky sloshed down the front of his own suit trousers. ‘Now Gary, sit the fuck down and have another drink whilst I go and change my bloody suit.’
With that, Seb stormed from the casino, his temper blown.
Sam topped up her wine and waited for Liam to continue. He could say what he liked, but he didn’t understand. It wasn’t his fault – how could he understand?
The growing suffocation she felt around him had not diminished, her mind still associating him with the night of her father’s death.
For once in her life, she wished she could confide in someone, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t talk to anyone about this. Not Liam, not her mother and certainly not John.
The back of Sam’s eyes stung with the burn of forming tears. She wanted to pick up the phone and call her father – he’d know what to do. That was until, with the crushing sense of loss, she remembered that she couldn’t and never would be able to again. And it bloody hurt.
She felt very much alone. More alone than ever. Being an only child, she’d always been comfortable with her own company, but this was different. Totally different. She was out of her depth in unfamiliar waters and it was not a pleasant feeling.
Liam moved to sit next to Sam on the sofa, ignoring her stiffen at his closeness. ‘I really don’t see how this can be a good idea,’ he said. ‘I’ve told you before that you shouldn’t trust Seb Stoker.’
‘Who said anything about trusting him?’ Sam barked, drinking her wine far quicker than she should. ‘All we’ll be doing is going through what my father had planned.’
‘And you have to spend the evening at the Royal Peacock for that? Why can’t you do it over the phone?’ Liam frowned, the thought of Sam being in the company of Sebastian Stoker of all people grating on every nerve ending in his body.
‘Exactly what do you suppose I do then?’ Sam snapped. ‘If I’m to run this business, I need to at least know something!’
‘But they’re your rivals!’ Liam cried. ‘You really believe Stoker won’t feed you false information for his own gains?’
‘Like I said, this is regarding what was planned between my father and Mal Stoker. Seb was at the meeting when it was discussed,’ Sam said. The fact that Seb could be doing this for his own ends had crossed her mind, but she couldn’t allow Liam to know that. In fact, why was she justifying anything – to herself or Liam?
Liam folded his arms defensively. ‘John Maynard should be dealing with this, not you. Leave it to him,’ he said. ‘That was what your father wanted.’ He threw his hands in the air. ‘And to give up your design business in the process? Len would’ve hated that!’
Sam reined in her escalating anger. Even though John had tried to mask his feelings when she’d told him she would be running things after all, she’d seen the hate and resentment deep behind his eyes. It had been too strong for him to hide and she’d sensed it loud and clear, regardless of the words spilling from his mouth about how ‘he’d do everything to help her’. She didn’t believe it. Not one bit.
Sam also knew her father would not want her shelving her design shop dream, but she wasn’t allowing the business empire he’d spent his life creating to be slung down the toilet. Her mother had to be provided for and that wouldn’t happen if she didn’t step up. And she certainly couldn’t leave it to John – someone she had unexplained reservations about.
She could continue with her dream at a later date – just not now.
Sam stood up, wine slopping down the front of her dress. ‘If you don’t agree with what I’m doing or how I’m going about it and how much my father would hate everything, as you keep telling me, then it’s best you just bloody go!’
‘Don’t be like that. It’s only because I’m worried about you.’ Liam reached for Sam’s hand. ‘And because I love you…’ He had to keep her on side. She’d begun to pull away from him – even more so since Len’s death – and that was not how it was supposed to work. He had to show Sam she could rely on him. He couldn’t lose his chance now – not when he was so close to securing his future.
‘Just go, will you?’ Sam shrieked, tugging her hand away from Liam’s grasp. ‘Please! I want to be on my own.’
When Liam finally slammed the door of her parents’ home behind him, Sam flopped into a chair and put her head in her hands.
Composing herself, she poured another glass of wine, resenting the shaking of her hands. Tomorrow she’d move back to her own apartment. There was only so long she could cope being in the same house with her mother, knowing she would have to continually play down the brewing trouble occurring behind the scenes at the Orchid.
If she had to accept Sebastian Stoker’s arrogant help to get to the bottom of what was going on, then she’d do it. She’d do it for her father.
She may not know much about his business, but now she was making it her business to learn and find out. And she’d be doing that quickly.