Page 44 of Gideon (Finding Home #3)

Chapter

Sixteen

You’re my form of coming home, and you always will be

Gideon

I move into the room Oz uses as an office.

Its windows are wide open, letting in the scent from the lavender.

It’s a curious juxtaposition of a workmanlike environment with a sturdy desk and filing cabinets, and a family room with a brightly coloured playpen in the corner filled with toys and, along one old cupboard, pictures of him and Silas and Cora.

I turn as John, my lawyer, and Frankie enter the room.

“What the fuck is this?” Frankie demands immediately. “Why is John here?” He looks belligerent and nervous, and it’s the nerves that finally convince me that what I’ve been told is true.

“You’ve been stealing from me,” I breathe, and he jerks.

“What the fuck? No, I haven’t.”

John settles himself down on one of the chairs, crossing his legs and flicking a thread from his trousers. “Be careful, Frankie,” he says calmly.

“Careful,” he explodes. “Careful when this ungrateful wanker accuses me of stealing money and forging signatures.”

“I never said anything about forging,” I say, and it cuts through his bluster like a knife through butter. “You said that.” I settle back. “Your mind went straight to the contracts.”

“Rubbish,” he scoffs. “What are you? Fucking Hercule Poirot now? Really? What a load of bollocks.”

“But it’s not,” I say, feeling the sadness suddenly run through me. “I employed Carter, French, and Santer a few weeks ago.” He pales at the name of the famous forensic accounting firm. I shrug. “They’re very thorough, Frankie. They went through everything.”

He sags suddenly, all the bluster running away as he sinks into a chair, looking pale and sweaty.

“ Why ?” I say, the words bursting out of me, and John stirs, giving me a warning look not to let go of my temper. “Why?” I say in a more measured tone. “I gave you anything you asked for, Frankie. Was it not enough?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says woodenly, casting a glance at John.

“How about the money you skimmed off my contracts? Bit here, bit there. The shit you bought on my credit cards. The three houses you bought in my name.” I shake my head.

“I’ve got to say, Frankie, it came as a surprise to me that I’d signed those deeds over to you.

I know I was stoned a lot, but even I’d remember giving away hundreds of thousands of pounds in property. ”

“Thousands,” he scoffs. “You’ve got millions more.”

“I have,” I say mildly, feeling a wave of sickness run over me. I trusted this man above everyone else. “But that’s sort of the point. It’s mine. My money. I earned it and you had no right to steal it from me.”

“Please,” he scoffs. I shoot a glance at John as Frankie explodes into motion, levering out of his seat and starting to pace.

John makes a gesture as if to say keep him talking , but I can’t stop him now.

“I fucking made you, Gid. You were a pimply-faced teenager when I got hold of you. I dressed you right, got you to meet the right people, got you the roles. I created you, you ungrateful bastard, and what did I get? Carping and whining about wanting to be honest. Wanting to be the authentic you . What a load of old horseshit.” He glares at me.

“The real you is pathetic, Gideon. Fucking gay. What a fucking joke. You could have been anything you wanted.” He smiles suddenly and humourlessly.

“You’ve done it now, though, Gid. They’ll ruin you.

You’ve shit on everything I ever did for you. ”

“You didn’t do it for me,” I say sadly. “You did it for you. Let me think you cared. Let me think you wanted the best for me.”

“I did.”

“Well, your best wasn’t and isn’t good for me.”

“That’s fucking obvious,” he scoffs. “It never was. So, why shouldn’t I take what I wanted? I fucking earned it. All those years of pulling you out of random twinks’ beds, covering up and creating the perfect image. I did fucking everything for you, you ungrateful little twat.”

“I know,” I say slowly. “And I’d have given you everything you chose to take if you’d just asked me.”

“What?” he says, looking shocked.

I nod. “I’d have given you anything you wanted, Frankie, because for a very long time I was certain you were my only friend. The only one who supported me.” I shake my head. “I was wrong.”

“So, what are you going to do?” he snaps, and I almost want to admire him.

Even now he’s cocksure. It’s no wonder I believed everything he told me.

No one disbelieves someone so determinedly certain as Frankie.

“Going to send me to fucking prison, Gideon? Because it’ll be a noisy day in the press when I start talking. ”

“You won’t talk, actually,” John says coldly. “Because you signed a nondisclosure just the same as the other men you made sign them in the past.” He smiles slightly. “But the difference is that you signed one of mine, and they’re so watertight Houdini couldn’t have got out of them.”

“You can’t stop me,” he says loudly, the bluster showing he knows it’s true.

“I can,” I say, idly clicking the top of a pen on and off. “You owe me a lot of money, Frankie. There is a very clear and indisputable paper trail following you around detailing the thefts and the forging of my signature on various documents. That’s a prison sentence all on its own.”

He seems to deflate suddenly. “So, what now?” he says, sitting back down. “What do you want? I don’t have that money and you know it. You’ll fucking ruin me.”

“I don’t want that,” I say slowly. He looks up, hope rich in his face.

I stare at him coldly, watching the flinch he can’t help.

“I trusted you,” I say in a low voice. “I even loved you. Saw you as my de facto father for some fucked-up reason. It’s for that reason alone, because I cared a lot for you, that I’m going to let the crime go. ”

“Against my advice,” John says coldly. “I don’t find theft and fraud charming, Mr Grantham.”

I shrug. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” I say, standing up and shoving my hands in my pockets.

“You are going to leave here with John and go back to London where you will box up all my data from your office as I am no longer your client.” Incredibly, he looks like he wants to argue.

“I am going to move management and will release a statement saying it’s a mutual decision and that you are retiring immediately.

You can sell your business, which should fetch a pretty penny, and John will then set up a repayment schedule for you to pay everything back.

The time for that is not infinite. And that is it.

You will keep your reputation, clouded as it is.

In return, you will not talk about me or my family.

” My face hardens. “You will most certainly never utter a word about Eli. Make no mistake, he is the most important thing in the world to me. Hell, he is my world. If at any point you get greedy or vengeful and talk shit about him or about anything I consider to be my private business, I will unleash hell. Because all of the proof of what you’ve done will be sitting with John, and make no mistake, Frankie, he’s dying to hobble you for this. ”

I shake my head and turn to face the window. “Goodbye,” I say quietly.

There’s a long silence and then I hear him say faintly, “I’m sorry, Gid.

” For a second, my memory floods with all the times we laughed together, the huge plans we had, our victories and extravagant celebrations, and I squeeze my eyes shut as the door closes silently behind me and a part of my life comes to an end.

Eventually, I slump into a chair. I feel hollowed out.

I don’t know whether I’ve done the right thing for my career, but I’m sure I’ve done the right thing for my sanity and my life.

However, what I do know is that I feel free.

Free and able to be with the man I love, and I have a sudden powerful yearning to feel his arms around me and hear that beloved warm voice calm me.

Suddenly the room fills with the scent of pipe tobacco and leather. I look around, startled, as a breeze that doesn’t come from the window ruffles my hair, and I feel a sense of almost paternal approval and watch the room lighten as if the sun has flooded through it.

“What the fuck?” I breathe out as the room seems alive with a presence even though there’s only me here. Then my phone rings and the light vanishes, as does the smell.

“What the fuck?” I say again disbelievingly. The phone rings again, and I pull it out and click to answer. Not recognising the number, I say hello tentatively.

“Is that Gideon Ramsay?” a voice with a strong Yorkshire accent says.

“It might be,” I say slowly. “Although if you’re selling something, then it most certainly isn’t Gideon Ramsay.”

There’s a startled silence for a second and then a deep chuckle sounds. “You’re exactly as I pictured you.”

“Is this a pervy phone call? Because I don’t know if you’ve seen my latest interview, but I’m most definitely taken now,” I say quickly.

“I did,” the voice says. “It’s the reason for me ringing you. I’m Asa Jacobs.”

I blink. Asa Jacobs is a hugely popular actor.

A big bloke with wild hair who’s famously bisexual.

He got married to a male model last year, and I’m always seeing pictures of the two of them looking extremely happy together.

I’d long held him up as an example to Frankie, only to be dismissed as it not being possible for me.

“We were talking about me doing the series with you,” I say slowly. “But then you backed out. Said I wasn’t what you were looking for.” That had fucking hurt at the time.

“Not actually the case,” he says mildly. “Your manager put the kibosh on it. Didn’t want you associating with us sexual delinquents.” He pauses. “Only in light of your current relationship status, I’d like to offer you a place with us sexual rogues. It looks like you’ll fit right in.”