Overlooked(1)(152)

I sit at my desk, staring at the figures that had seemed so promising only a few months ago. Without warning, they have plummeted against prediction and I am left with debts to pay, deals to make and the burning drive to pull my family’s company up and out of the dirt. I know if I have the money, these deals will work. I know it. They will build the company that my father worked so hard to create – I will build it to even greater heights.

I lean back against the chair and rub my face. I could really do with another coffee. I have barely had time to drink the first one today and I am beginning to feel as if I am running on fumes. The memory of last night seems so far away.

The thought of Ellen and the spark that buzzed between us seems like nothing more than a fevered dream. There is no way that we kissed under a sparkling sky. There is no way that we walked hand in hand after drinking Champagne and coffee. Something that romantic, however fake, doesn’t seem like it could exist in the harsh world of business.

The lights glare down on me. The emails that pour into my inbox demand solutions, demand so much of me. I am just about to grab a coffee, hoping that a five-minute break will have me back up to speed, but as I stand, the phone begins to ring.

With a groan, I sit back down. I clear my throat and pick up the phone, sounding as professional as ever, “Cade Harlow speaking. How may I help you?”

“Mr. Harlow, I am so glad that I got hold of you.”

It might just be the exhaustion talking, but the voice on the other side of that line sounds too smooth. Too unruffled. Too calm and composed. He has only said a single sentence and already I have a feeling that he believes he holds all the cards.

But I have no idea what game we are meant to be playing.

He continues, “I’m Adam Jones, a lawyer. I’m calling in regards to the release of your trust fund.”

I feel my heart clench in my chest as I stare at the figures on the screen, the terribly bleak figures. I steel myself, my voice as even and professional as ever.

“Mr. Jones. Thank you for your call. How can I assist you with that?” I ask.

“I would like to arrange a meeting to discuss the transfer of funds upon your birthday.” I can hear a quiet smile in his voice. “When would suit you?”

“My schedule is quite full at the moment.” I glance at the computer. I am most definitely not lying.

“I understand, Mr. Harlow. Running a company must take so much of your time.” I feel defensive, chilled. He’s done his research on me.

He continues, “But if you could find some time, I would really appreciate it. The quicker we can get through the paperwork, the quicker we can get the money transferred to you.”

I skim through my calendar, considering his words, “I’m free Wednesday morning.”

“That would be perfect. Let me give you my details.” He rattles off an email address and I take it down, so that I can give him a more concrete time.

“Is there anything I should bring?” I ask, curt, polite.

“Just the standard paperwork, proof of identification and so forth.” He pauses and I can feel the tension crackle in the air as he adds casually, “And bring your fiancée. It would be good to meet her.”

I freeze. It is so causal and so threatening at the same time. Completely harmless, a simple request and yet it gets my back up.

“I’ll see if she is available. Thank you for your time, Mr. Jones.” I know the edge in my voice is cold, but I am beyond caring. I’ve played nice with this man for long enough and it is clear what he is up to. What worries me most is the fact that he doesn’t seem interested in hiding his true intentions – he must be pretty confident in himself, in finding a chink in my armor.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Harlow. I look forward to seeing you there.” So pleasant, so polite.

I put down the phone and I am angry to see that my hands are shaking. It’s nothing. This man doesn’t know anything. He’s just a hired snoop, lawyer or not. He’s the hired help and there is no way I am going to let him topple the empire my father built.

There will be no reason for him to doubt the relationship between Ellen and me. No reason to snoop any further or get anyone else involved. There is no reason for me to worry and I need to keep that firmly in my mind, and not worry about the rest of it. Just play my part well and leave the rest to fate. And to Ellen.

I stare at the phone, the longing for a cup of coffee strong. I have to make yet another phone call now, deal with yet another set of problems. My head is starting to throb and resentment builds in my chest against Adam Jones, even though I have never met him in person.

I pick up the phone again and with a sense of reluctance, I dial Ellen’s number.