“Oh, but I think you’ll be able to. We’ve been there before. Silk Table,” I exclaim, my voice brittle. “What a coincidence.”
Sure enough, something shifts in him, a flicker of recognition.
Yeah, that was close to your little rendezvous, wasn’t it? Should’ve waved, you two-timing bastard.
I force a breezy tone. “I really like that area. I must check out some of the pubs and other places around there sometime.”
I watch his face carefully, searching for any flicker of guilt, any hint of remorse or shame. Come on, you lying bastard. Tell me how you just happened to be across the street last night.
But Liam’s face remains impassive. He’s clearly too adept at this game.
“We’ll check it out more sometime. I know a few good pubs in that area,” he says.
“Sure,” I choke out.
I struggle to keep my expression neutral as he launches into work talk. My responses are robotic. Inside, I’m screaming, raging, wanting to claw his eyes out.
How long can I keep up this charade? I was too distraught last night to formulate a plan.
But I know one thing for sure—I can’t let him see how much he’s hurt me. I can’t give him that satisfaction.
Liam’s not an idiot, though. I can see the confusion flickering in his eyes, the slight furrow in his brow. He knows something is off, that much is clear. Hopefully, he’ll buy the allergy excuse. Or maybe he’ll just chalk it up to “that time of the month.” Typical bloody man.
“Well done, Gemma,” he says. “That idea to have the new starters report to some of the other managers before Ollie seems to have gone over really well with the team. We were just discussing it in the board meeting. It was a good idea.” He smirks, adding, “You know I don’t like admitting I’m wrong, but . . . not bad.”
He grins, expecting me to respond in kind, to banter back. But I’m pretty sure my attempt at a smile looks more like I’ve just sucked on a lemon.
“Great,” I say smoothly. “In other news, we discovered who’s been leaking information to Alastair. IT finally came through this morning, and the evidence is stacked against the person. If you want to go through it yourself, be my guest.”
He frowns. “I trust your judgment. Who is it?”
“Brandon.”
Liam’s eyes flash with surprise, quickly darkening. He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, the muscles beneath histailored shirt tensing. I bet Alastair’s wifelovedgetting an up-close view of those muscles last night as he fucked her.
“Are you joking?” he growls.
“Nope,” I reply, popping the P so aggressively that a bit of spit flies out, landing on his desk. Oops. I have to let some of this anger out, or I’m going to explode. “The highest paid analyst in your company is the guy backstabbing you.”
Ironic, isn’t it?
Liam runs a hand through his hair, and it’s obvious he’s both shocked and furious.
And Brandon is just plain stupid because when this gets out Liam will make sure he never works in another firm in London. Alastair won’t take him on either, even though Brandon has likely been handsomely compensated for his treachery. No, Alastair won’t want someone like that actually working for him, someone who’s proven himself to be a disloyal snake.
But the thing is, it likely doesn’t matter to Brandon. He’s probably got enough money squirreled away to swan off to the Cayman Islands or some other equally exotic tax haven and go into early retirement at the ripe old age of thirty-one.
“What the fuck is the bastard getting out of it?” Liam snarls. His Northern accent comes out strong, roughening his words. The accent that for five years made me weak in the knees, though I’d sooner die than admit it. The one that deepens when he’s particularly passionate or angry. Right now, it’s both. I’ll never be able to watchGame of Thronesthe same way again.
“Some people are just too greedy,” I say through clenched teeth. “They’re never satisfied with what they’ve got, always wanting more.”
I wonder if he can hear the bitterness lacing my words. Probably not. He’s too busy plotting Brandon’s gruesome demise to notice the daggers I’m glaring at him.
His hands clench the edge of the desk. “Bring me everything you’ve got on this. Every. Last. Detail.” Each word is articulated with fury-laced precision. “I want to know what Brandon had for breakfast the day he decided to fuck me over. It’s safe to say he’s going to regret this.”
Liam’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see the ruthless, powerful man I’ve been working alongside all these years—billionaire banker Liam in all his glory.
“Of course, sir,” I snap, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.
