Page 43 of Last Breath (Blood Wine Dynasty #2)

Nella

‘What are you doing here?’ It was impossible. Every part of her pulled away from the looming figure ahead of her.

Maybe he had a twin?

The safe. (But Grey said he’d sort it out.) The iPad. (No one saw Jett take it.) Ah.

‘You read his emails, didn’t you?’ she said. What was this feeling? Like there was a knife against her chest? ‘You knew he was planning to come here.’

‘Funny, you mentioning Clarkson’s emails.

’ Oliver’s voice was quiet, like a soldier tiptoeing into enemy territory.

He moved out of the shadows of the romantically lit restaurant.

It was really him. Blond hair slicked back like he’d just showered or swum.

Vein in his temple pulsating. He was here.

In Milan. ‘Seeing as you could only have seen them by gaining access to his iPad illegally.’

‘I found it in my file room,’ Nella lied. ‘The cops must have missed it. You, on the other hand, clearly hacked his private account.’

‘The only thing I’m guilty of,’ Oliver said, ‘is reviewing my firm’s accounts. Clarkson bought two tickets to Milan. He used his company card to book two rooms at this hotel. One under his name, and the other under—’

‘Ariana La Marca.’

Clarkson must have been confident he’d be able to convince her.

‘I know,’ she said. Surely he could hear her heart like a headphone thumping in his ear. ‘I know he told you he was leaving the company.’

It was just a moment. Like a lightning flash across Oliver’s face. Then it was gone.

She didn’t want to know what it was.

‘The only thing I know for sure,’ he said, ‘is that you came by that information illegally. Are you going to tell me what you were actually doing in Clarkson’s office at the party?’

‘Did your parents not have the birds and the bees conversation with you? Admit it. You knew he was leaving, and you kept it from me because you knew how it would look.’

‘It was none of your business! Or anyone’s business for that matter.’

‘It’s motive,’ Nella said. Her atoms were splintering. ‘And none of that explains why you’re here.’

‘I’m making sure whoever killed Clarkson pays for it. I know you’re involved. I know you took the iPad from the safe. Your family’s shit is stained all over this. And I’ll be damned if I let you bury his memory in the grave Matteo La Marca is digging for you.’

Her lungs were collapsing. Oliver was speaking exactly like a lawyer. Either everything he was saying was true, or he’d killed Clarkson and now he was here, following up on the last thing Clarkson did before he died – to make sure nothing implicated him.

‘You don’t believe me.’ His face cracked.

‘You’ve always been too good for everyone, haven’t you, Nella?

Never a team player. Always off on your own.

You joked about starting up a firm with us, but you never meant any of it.

Always too good for me and Clarkson. But apparently not too good to hook up with your driver.

Or are you done with that charade? You ready to admit that hook-up was all for show so you could steal from me? ’

‘At least the people I hook up with want it.’

She’d remember his face, ashen white and gaping at her like he’d never seen her before as she shoved past him and ran into the crowded restaurant.

She’d remember it, no matter the outcome of this case.

Because, despite everything she’d just learnt about her grandfather, for the first time in a really long time, that face felt like a win.