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“I’ve been talking of my own business for years, but never made the move.”

“For a variety of reasons—very good reasons—you haven’t been in a position to until now.”

“Well, now I’m thinking about a change in direction. I’ve been doing research in your absence.” Research for his own business, but hell, his life had been turned upside down by Beatriz’s revelation. “You asked me to keep an eye on things in your absence. I’ve been paying attention.”

“Remind me again why your parents moved to Australia?”

“Because Dad recognised after Maha’s birth that his daughter or daughters wouldn’t be able to live fully independent lives in Saudi Arabia.”

“Did you listen to what you just said? Raed Hariri doesn’t follow traditional expectations. He might occasionally fantasise about you following in his footsteps, more when you were a kid, but he worked out pretty quickly you’d be miserable.”

“Then why the fight about my degree?” Cas had latched on to the memory in the last few days.

“Already answered that one. Because more people fail than succeed in the creative industries. He wanted you to have a backup plan. We beat this to death at the time, Cas.”

“Maybe I should offer to join the business?”

“Why the fuck would you do an insane thing like that?” Hunt pushed the pizza box away from him. “And for fuck’s sake, sit down. You’re giving me neck ache.”

“He’s withdrawn. He sits in his office. For hours. That’s not him.” Cas pushed a hand through his hair, and returned to the sofa.

“That very definitely is him. All the Hariris are workaholics. Have you asked if anything is wrong?”

“No. I’ve been working on a plan. Something to put on the table.”

“And part of that plan is to lose everything you’ve worked for?” Hunter was preternaturally calm, while Cas became more agitated.

“I’ve got very little.”

“How many children do your parents have?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Not from where I’m sitting.”

His friend was outwardly cool as crisp lettuce, but Cas knew him better than almost anyone on earth.

“Dad always says four. If pushed, he says three biological and one adopted.”

“What doyousay in the quietness of the night when you’re telling yourself you’re a failure?” Hunter was moving his beer from one hand to the other.

“You’re the son he should have had. You saved him, and I didn’t.” Cas leaned forward, his hands between his knees.

“When did it become a competition?” Hunter’s eyes narrowed.

“Al’ama. You’re my brother, Hunt. I’m sorry, I’m cocking this up too.”

“‘Cocking it up’ is not a phrase I associate with Casildo Hariri. Eat some pizza, and tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“You’ve been away, Hunt. Staying in the granny flat, I saw Dad every day. I can’t see any other way to help him except to join the business.”

Having his savings in reserve to help Beatriz would be the bonus.

“Have you considered he might refuse?”

“I do have that business degree, you know,” Cas snarled, reaching for a slice of pizza.

“Raed Hariri’s business is rock solid. Until Nick Richardson sabotaged the tenancies in the Sydney building, it was paying its way. Most of your father’s assets are in regional NSW. Small holdings—shops and other commercial premises that deliver reliable returns. While those investments are gold-plated, regional properties generally take longer to sell than city properties.”