Page 30 of Naughty or Nice

I wonder if this is a test too, or if he’s genuinely curious as to what I know.

I humour him, reeling off facts and figures, cities of presence, high-profile partners—the lot—and I know I’ve surprised him. I can see it in the swell of his chest, his pumped-up reaction as I feed his ego. I don’t mind doing it—not when I’m stating facts.

He runs his forefinger along his lower lip and rubs at his chin. ‘You’ve done your homework.’

‘Of course.’

I don’t want to say I knew all this anyway. That he might have been out of my life but I couldn’t help keeping tabs on him. It’s not like anyone can ignore him anyway, not when he’s splashed all over the media to enjoy.

‘I thought you said you needed time to prep for our meeting?’ he says.

My cheeks colour. He’s got me, and I look at my mug to avoid his eye, taking a sip. ‘I like to know who I’m meeting. If I’m expecting Houston Logistics, I want to see Houston Logistics.’

‘Are you saying you prefer dear old Leslie’s company to mine?’

‘I think from a distribution point of view you’re on a par.’

‘You know that’s not what I meant.’

‘Isn’t it?’ I challenge—and, God help me, my belly flutters excitedly. Sparring with him is too much fun.

He gives a soft laugh. ‘Fair enough, but I disagree. We’re not on a par. Open your email. I’ve sent you some comparisons to look at it.’

‘Comparisons?’ I place my coffee on the desk and look at my computer screen, doing as he asks.

‘Sure. I figured I’d make it easy for you. In the attachments you’ll find a whole host of competitors and the reason Waring Holdings outperforms them all.’

I open up his email and the first attachment, giving it a quick scan, and then the next, and the next.

What the hell?

‘How can you—?’

‘How can I know who I’m up against? Your launch party told me that, and my research team did the rest. I may be missing a few—in fact I’m sure I will be—but if they’re not on my radar they’re not worth worrying about.’

I can’t believe it. A thorough analysis worthy of myself or my team is laid out before me. It wouldn’t take me long to check what the reports say for accuracy, but I know in my gut that I won’t find anything to fault.

And then Nate’s words come back to haunt me—his timely text from Friday night, the multitude of communications since: You can’t trust him.

I look at Lucas now and Nate’s warning clashes with what I know for myself, with what I feel.

Why did he want me to see that Nate had called? Was it his way of saying his conscience is clear? That he’s not worried about him or what he has to say? And if his conscience is clear, then what does that say about my brother? My family?

A wave of uncertainty washes over me and I throw my focus into the spreadsheets and the words before me. But they simply blur.

Lucas left, though. The company collapsed, my brother and father dealt with the fallout, and Lucas was long gone. Why didn’t he stick around and protest his innocence? At least help? Why did he go without saying goodbye?

And there it is—the crux of it.

Christ, it was hardly like you spent any time together by then. He owed you nothing.

But the pain is there, and I know it’s a huge part of it all. He left without so much as a nod in my direction, without even attempting to clear his name with me, and he must have known the crap my family would lay at his feet.

‘What really happened?’ I say, looking at the screen.

‘Excuse me?’

I look at him now, my eyes narrowed. ‘Between you and Nate...the company?’