Page 48
Story: Midnight Enemy
“I’m not embarrassed,” I say, realizing with some surprise that it’s true. “But you’re probably right.”
“The Elders have authorized me to tell you that they are willing to sell the Waiora to you. For seventeen anda half million.”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and study her as I suck a few crumbs from my thumb. “And they sent you to deliver the message. Interesting.”
“It’s my land,” she says firmly, lifting her gaze to mine. But there are twin spots of red on her cheeks.
They’ve told her to come here because I sent her roses. They know I like her, and they want her to try to talk me into increasing my offer.
That fills me with such fury that it blazes through me like wildfire, turning everything in its wake to ash. I hate being manipulated like that, in both my business and personal life.
And I’m mainly angry because I know it’s going to work. I’ll pay whatever Scarlett wants for the Waiora because I want to make her happy. That shocks me. I’ve never let my feelings influence my business decisions before.
I don’t want to say yes immediately because I don’t want to give them the satisfaction. Equally, that’s going to force Scarlett to play their game. And how do I know that if she spends time with me, it’s not because she’s been instructed to do so?
I finish off the brownie, then wash it down with a mouthful of coffee. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“I am wearing underwear today, if that’s what you’re going to ask.”
I laugh. I adore this girl. “No. I was going to ask you how your father died.”
The humor fades from her face. “He had a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry. Were you with him?”
She shakes her head. “George was.”
“Oh?”
“They were in the office. It came out of the blue. George called an ambulance, but he was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital.”
“Was there an autopsy?”
“No. Why should there be? There was nothing suspicious about his death. He was overweight, had high blood pressure and cholesterol, and often forgot his pills.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t raise my suspicions with Scarlett. She’s been brought up to respect her literal Elders, and she would never suspect that her father’s death could be anything but natural. And of course she might be right. If the authorities didn’t find anything amiss, surely that means there’s nothing wrong? I’ve become jaded and distrustful, that’s all.
Still, I can’t quieten the tiny bell of doubt ringing inside me. And because I can’t silence it, I don’t want to give in to George and the others just yet.
Also, it gives me a reason to persuade Scarlett to see me again.
“I need time to think about it,” I say.
It prompts her to give me a sarcastic look. “You don’t need time. You’ve already decided what your reply will be.”
“Not at all. I need to get another surveyor’s valuation and take a look at the market, and also examine my own books. Two and a half million is a lot of money to pull out of nowhere.”
“Says the man with nine zeros in his bank account.”
I smile. She pokes her tongue out at me, and my smile spreads.
“I have an idea,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “What?”
“Come to dinner with me tonight. It’ll give you the opportunity to convince me.”
Another sarcastic look. “That’s not fair.”
“The Elders have authorized me to tell you that they are willing to sell the Waiora to you. For seventeen anda half million.”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and study her as I suck a few crumbs from my thumb. “And they sent you to deliver the message. Interesting.”
“It’s my land,” she says firmly, lifting her gaze to mine. But there are twin spots of red on her cheeks.
They’ve told her to come here because I sent her roses. They know I like her, and they want her to try to talk me into increasing my offer.
That fills me with such fury that it blazes through me like wildfire, turning everything in its wake to ash. I hate being manipulated like that, in both my business and personal life.
And I’m mainly angry because I know it’s going to work. I’ll pay whatever Scarlett wants for the Waiora because I want to make her happy. That shocks me. I’ve never let my feelings influence my business decisions before.
I don’t want to say yes immediately because I don’t want to give them the satisfaction. Equally, that’s going to force Scarlett to play their game. And how do I know that if she spends time with me, it’s not because she’s been instructed to do so?
I finish off the brownie, then wash it down with a mouthful of coffee. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“I am wearing underwear today, if that’s what you’re going to ask.”
I laugh. I adore this girl. “No. I was going to ask you how your father died.”
The humor fades from her face. “He had a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry. Were you with him?”
She shakes her head. “George was.”
“Oh?”
“They were in the office. It came out of the blue. George called an ambulance, but he was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital.”
“Was there an autopsy?”
“No. Why should there be? There was nothing suspicious about his death. He was overweight, had high blood pressure and cholesterol, and often forgot his pills.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t raise my suspicions with Scarlett. She’s been brought up to respect her literal Elders, and she would never suspect that her father’s death could be anything but natural. And of course she might be right. If the authorities didn’t find anything amiss, surely that means there’s nothing wrong? I’ve become jaded and distrustful, that’s all.
Still, I can’t quieten the tiny bell of doubt ringing inside me. And because I can’t silence it, I don’t want to give in to George and the others just yet.
Also, it gives me a reason to persuade Scarlett to see me again.
“I need time to think about it,” I say.
It prompts her to give me a sarcastic look. “You don’t need time. You’ve already decided what your reply will be.”
“Not at all. I need to get another surveyor’s valuation and take a look at the market, and also examine my own books. Two and a half million is a lot of money to pull out of nowhere.”
“Says the man with nine zeros in his bank account.”
I smile. She pokes her tongue out at me, and my smile spreads.
“I have an idea,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “What?”
“Come to dinner with me tonight. It’ll give you the opportunity to convince me.”
Another sarcastic look. “That’s not fair.”
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