The Billionaire Banker(61)
A man talking loudly on his cell phone in some European language intrudes on his musings. He glances away from the water at the tramps sleeping rough. For the first time in his life he sees them as people. People who have fallen on hard times because of the things that his family is doing. They are not the real parasites. She was right that night when she accused him and his family of being the parasites. He has always known. He has just never cared before. His phone rings. He looks at it.
Marcus.
‘Hello.’
His brother gets to the point immediately. ‘Morgan just called me. Why is his loan still pending?’
‘Morgan is a crook.’
There is a shocked silence and then his brother sighs heavily. ‘What’s going on with you, Blake?’
‘Nothing. It bugs me to approve the loan. This green energy thing is a scam.’
‘Of course it is. And so what?’
‘Why do we have to be part of everything crooked?’
‘My God, you’re beginning to sound like Quinn,’ his brother says referring to their youngest sibling. Quinn turned his back on the family fortune and ran off to Paris to be an artist.’
‘I’m beginning to think Quinn had the right idea.’
‘It’s a big account—government approved. We’re just facilitating the funds.’
‘We’re always only facilitating the funds.’
‘Father worked hard to get us on board. The other banks will kill for an opportunity like this.’
Blake sighed. ‘I’ll sign off on the papers in the morning.’
‘I don’t care about the loan—what I care about is what’s happening to you? You’re still in training. You can’t get soft, Blake. These are shark-infested waters you’re swimming in. They’ll eat you alive. The entire system is corrupt. You can’t fight it. If you try to, it will only break you.’
‘Yeah. Just having a bad day, I guess.’
‘Have you spoken to Victoria?’
Blake frowns. ‘No, why?’
‘Nothing. Her father was telling me you haven’t called in some weeks. It’s not a good thing to leave these things for too long.’
Blake does something he has never done before. He confides in his brother.
‘I think I might have found someone.’
‘Someone? What do you mean someone?’
‘I think I’m in love.’
‘What?’ The burst of sound is so explosive and sudden that Blake has to pull the phone away from his ear and hold it away.
‘Hell! Blake! Have you lost your mind?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Not one of us.’
‘Set her up in an apartment and visit her every day until you are bored of her.’
Blake smiles in the dark. ‘Done that.’
‘You’ve fallen for a gold-digger!’
‘She’s not a gold-digger.’
‘They all are.’
‘Well, she’s not.’
‘Look, Blake, don’t fuck this up. This is your future.
You have to marry Victoria.’
‘I don’t have to do anything. I don’t want to end up like you. A wife you detest, three kids you never see, and cold fucks with models and movie stars in luxurious apartments and hotel rooms.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’
Blake sighs.
‘You’re going to fuck this up, aren’t you? This is not a club, Blake. You can’t terminate your membership and walk away. There are consequences.’
‘Quinn did.’
‘You’re not Quinn,’ he says, his voice heavy with meaning.
‘Look, I got to go. I’ll call you soon. Bye, Marcus.’
Blake cuts the call and stands looking at the cold, black water.
‘Spare some change,’ someone says from behind him.
He turns back. A tramp. He puts his hand into his pocket, but there is no ‘change’ in his pocket. He never carries change. He opens his wallet. There is nothing there but fifty-pound notes. He pulls one out and holds it out by the corner. The tramp’s eyes widen.
‘God bless you, sir,’ he cries delightedly, and staggers away to spend the money on more booze. Blake looks up and watches a star tumble from the sky. And takes it as a sign. He wants to go back to the apartment and get into bed beside her, but he won’t. That will be a bad idea. She will be asleep and he would only wake her and want to get into that beautiful body. No, he will go back to his own apartment and tomorrow he will tell her. He is madly in love with her.
He sends her a text:
Meet me for breakfast outside the café? 9am. X
Lana is not asleep. She looks at his message. Even the thought of breakfast makes her feel sick, but she will go anyway. Perhaps she will have some black coffee and pretend she is on a diet or something. She wonders where he is. Why has he not come to her? Has he begun to lose interest? So quickly? Alone, she goes to sleep and sleeps badly, tossing and turning. Eventually, when she falls into a deep sleep, dawn is in the sky.