Page 37 of Parker

Chapter twenty-nine

Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow

Nicky

“One million pounds?” Sophie shrieks at the top of her lungs. We’re standing at an ATM in the middle of Sauchiehall Street. “Fucking hell!”

“Shut up. It must be a mistake.” I eject the card, wipe the magnetic strip on my sleeve, then slide it back in and punch in my PIN. Joel’s birthday. The screen reads:

Account Name—Mrs. Nicola Parker.

I need to change that. But changing my name on every document feels so final.

Account Number—36788976

Account balance—￡1,001,221.00

This can’t be right. I blink again, but the numbers don’t change. I lean against the machine, steadying myself.

“Nope,” my friend says. “There it is, one million pounds in your account.” Sophie leans over my shoulder, squints, then steps back, fanning herself dramatically.

“I don’t have one million pounds. I was worrying about paying rent this month.”

“You do now,” she says, nudging my ribs with her elbow. “Did you win something? A lottery?”

My mind races with possibilities. Nothing that makes sense comes to mind.

“Is it your divorce settlement?” I shake my head, eyes fixed on the numbers in case they dial back to nothing.

“Divorce settlement? I didn’t ask for anything.”

People huff behind me for taking so long. I press the button to print a mini statement and retrieve my card. We wander to the small tearoom across the street to sit down and absorb what’s happened. “Where did the money come from?”

I unfold the statement. The last entry on a long list of debits is a credit transaction. One million pounds received from Parker Fashion on the first of April. My eyes move from the paper to my friend and back again.

“Why would he give me a million pounds? It doesn’t make sense. We’ve been done for over a year. He owes me nothing.”

Sophie shrugs, unconcerned about the why of the situation.

“Who cares, Nicky? Now you can do what you’ve always dreamed of and open your shop.

Nicky’s Alterations. I can see it now,” she says and stands, lifting her arms in the air, mimicking a sign above a shop window.

“All those hours of business planning and scouring the internet for cheap shop fronts won’t be in vain.

Maybe that’s what Joel is trying to do? Give you an opportunity to make something of your life. ”

“Perhaps,” I mumble. “But I can’t just accept this. Not without knowing why. Not without seeing him.” A heavy ache settles in my chest. I haven’t seen him since I stormed out of his office. There’s that familiar sting again. Sharp. Precise. A paper cut to the heart every damn time.

Sophie is very active in social circles.

She hears a lot of gossip about the Parker family.

The past six months, she’s bounced from one business owner’s bed to another, and seemingly, my ex-husband is making a name for himself in the darkest parts of the city.

I try not to listen, but she insists on telling me every piece of gossip.

Now, she knows the truth about the Parker family, what I married into and, subsequently, walked away from.

“I’ll see him later, if they let me in.”

Sophie’s eyes dance with mischief. “Maybe he’ll give you a welcoming party too.” She waggles her eyebrows and runs her tongue over her bottom lip. “It’s been over a year, Nicky. You must be crawling the walls. If he offers you a last hurrah, would you do it?”

“No. It’s taken me twelve months to get my shit together in some semblance. The last thing I need in this world is Joel Parker’s head between my legs.” But it would be so damn good. One moment of forgetting.

I miss him more than I ever thought I could. My dreams are full of him. His broken expression that night I walked out of our home while Ebony lay on my sofa plays on my mind.

“Have you spoken to him recently?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Not since a few weeks after he bailed you out of prison. He doesn’t need to speak to me.” She nods toward the dark car sitting at the roadside.

They follow me all the time. Boyd is on duty today.

***

Déjà vu hits me as I press the buzzer on the solid black gates. Last time, they opened hesitantly. Louise answers right on cue.

“Nicola Smith here to see Joel Parker, please.”

“Oh, hello, Nicky,” she sings. “Joel said you might appear. I’ll buzz you through.”

The gates glide open, and I walk in. Louise greets me at the door, warm compared to my visit a year ago. She takes one of my hands between two of hers.

“You’re looking fantastic. Joel’s finishing up a meeting. He said to take you straight through.” She smiles, bright white teeth reflecting in the afternoon sun.

His office looks the same as it always does—paperwork everywhere, screens full of spreadsheets. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, still in the clothes I pulled on this morning to pop into the city.

My hair is in a high ponytail, no make-up smoothing out any blemishes on my face. My simple white t-shirt displays the word LIFE across my chest, paired with denim cut-offs and high-tops.

The door creaks open, and he walks in. My resolve wavers.

I haven’t seen him in months, but he’s still as beautiful as I remember.

He’s wearing a sharp navy suit with a slick white shirt, every inch the mafia boss that I now know he is.

His hair falls tousled over his forehead. He gives me a sexy smile.

“Nicky,” he says, his tone surprised. “Didn’t expect you today.”

“Joel,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Why did Parker Fashion deposit one million pounds in my bank account?”

“Why is your bank account still in my name?” he replies. I stop dead, narrowing my eyes. He’s watching me. I know this. Ignore him.

“I haven’t got around to changing it yet. Not that it’s any of your business. And I can’t accept your gift.”

“It’s not a gift. It’s a payment.” I open my hands in question. “For your designs. When you came to see me before, I couldn’t help you. But now I can.”

“I never wanted your money,” I mumble, and he smiles softly in response.

“I know. That’s why I love you.” The words hang between us, heavy with meaning. It’s the present tense that knocks the air from my lungs.

“Loved me. You mean.”

“No, I love you. Together or apart, that will never change. I want you to be happy, Nicky. To want that shop you’ve been researching and applying for grants to finance.

I’m able to help you. That’s all the money’s for.

” He shrugs. “Perhaps I could not give you the family and home you deserved. But I can give you this.”

His gaze drops to the floor. The mood in the room changes from distant to charged.

“Thank you,” I whisper, already turning to leave. Because if I stay a second longer, I may do something I’ll regret. Stopping at the door, I look back at my ex-husband. Something inside me fractures. “And Joel, how long has Boyd been following me? When will it end?”

He looks at me, pinning me to the spot.

“Since you walked out on me that night. Your protection will remain in place as long as I feel it’s necessary.” His tone slams the door on any arguments.