As his father came by and then walked off, Edward heard coughing that gradually grew softer. And then he got a boatload of Sutton’s voice, hushed, but strong as steel.
“My concealed weapon is pointed at you and I am prepared to pull the trigger. Show me your face, now.”
Fainting spell my ass, Edward thought. But at least she’d sent his father off on a little errand first.
Edward grunted as he leaned out from his hiding place.
Sutton gasped and covered her mouth with the hand that was not on her gun.
“If I’d known our paths would cross again,” Edward said smoothly, “I would have brought you your purse.”
“What are you doing here?” she hissed as she put her palm-sized gun back into her pastel-pink Derby suit.
“What are you? What did you just sign?”
She looked up. “He’s going to come back at any moment.”
“The question, of course, is what are you going to do about that?”
“What is wrong with you—” Instantly, she snapped to, shooing him with her hand. And just as he retucked himself, Sutton said, “Oh, thank you, William. That is just what I need.”
Wincing as his bad leg spasmed, Edward prayed that she kept protecting him. Also wished he’d greeted her with something other than a reminder that they’d had sex the night before for the first time—although only because he’d assumed she was a prostitute that he’d bought and paid for for the sole reason that he needed a woman who looked like her or he couldn’t get it up.
“No, orange is best.” There was a pop as if a cap had been opened. “Mmm … good.”
His father coughed again. “Better?”
“Much. Let’s go to the copy machine together, shall we?” she said. “Just in case I need help.”
“My pleasure,” William drawled.
“You know,” Sutton said more dimly, as she led the way out of the office, “you shouldn’t smoke. That stuff will kill you.”
Edward closed his eyes.
“Oh, the lights,” Sutton murmured. “Here, allow me. Once we get the copies, we should return to the party.”
“So eager to enjoy better bourbon than you produce?”
Everything went dark. “Yes, William. Of course.”
As the pair of them went off together, Edward listened to the prattle of their talk—and prayed, for his father’s sake, that the man kept his hands off Sutton. Watching that little show by the desk had required a kind of discipline he had not been connected to for quite a while.
What the hell kind of business deal were the pair of them executing?
God, he never thought he’d think like this, but he hoped Sutton wasn’t making any investment in the BBC—or trying to acquire it. She could well be pouring good money into a black hole.
Because, yes, even before he had started to get into those most recent files, Edward had suspected what his father was doing. He had never understood the why of it … but he did know where to look and exactly what he was going to find.
Some moments later, he heard Sutton say, “Well, I think this benefits us both. I’ll execute the wire transfer first thing on Monday morning.”
“Care to seal this with a kiss?”
Edward curled up a fist and thought of what his brother had said about Chantal.
“Thank you, but a handshake is more than sufficient—and even that, I don’t require. I’ll let myself out.”
A door opened and closed.
And then his father came back, the heavy footfalls striding in Edward’s direction making him wish he’d brought his own gun.
Lane knew where he was, however. If he didn’t make it out of here alive, Lane … would know.
Closer …
Closer …
Except his father just walked right by the desk and into his own office—where he turned on a light, pulled open a drawer and put the papers that had been signed back inside. Then he closed things up and took a number of puffs on his cigar, as if he were lost in thought.
When a coughing fit ensued, Edward rolled his eyes. His father had been an asthmatic all his life. Why anyone with that condition, even if it was just a mild case as William had, would ever smoke anything was a mystery.
As the man took out a handkerchief and covered his mouth, he also retrieved his inhaler and briefly replaced the cigar butt with the drugs. After a quick huff, he put the cigar back in place, turned off the light, and …
… proceeded by his assistant’s desk.
Edward didn’t move. Continued to hold his breath. Waited for the sound of one of the French doors opening and closing.
None of that came.
THIRTY-SIX
As Lizzie stood before him looking shaken, Lane wanted to take it all back. He wanted to return to the time when it was only his family’s wealth and social position … along with his lying, baby-killing, adulterous, soon-to-be ex-wife … who came between them.
Ah, yes, the good ol’ days.
Not.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. And that was true about so damned much.
“That’s all right.”