“I don’t know what I want from you.” Cam leaned against the desk. His body was a picture of casual relaxation, but his heady gaze said different. “Why did you agree to help me? I mean, I can pay whatever you want, but we never mentioned money before you got here, so...”
“So what? You think I’m incapable of doing a favour for a friend?”
“We’re friends?”
“We are not lovers, Cam. Andyoucalled me. Twice.”
Cam blinked and seemed to remember where he was. He glanced around, but out of respect for him, perhaps, no one was looking our way. “I called you because I like your voice. The Russian one. But you already told me where you stand on a repeat of the other night and I really could use the perspective of someone who isn’t scared to speak their mind on this, preferably someone who knows their fucking shit. If that makes us friends, I’ll take it.”
“Well, I am not afraid of you, so I suppose we can be friends.”
“Works for me.”
Cam’s grin widened enough to dazzle most people, I’d imagine, then sobered as he tugged the books towards us. “I already told you where we’re at with these, right?”
“Only that whoever was doing them before was overwhelmed. Do you know when they are made up until?”
“Magda dumped them at my feet a few weeks ago. There are entries from this month for the timber section, but nothing else makes any fucking sense and I can’t see when we last filed a tax return.”
“What about corporation tax? That is due at the end of next month, no?”
“Is it?” Cam shrugged, his face adorably boyish for a moment. “You see why I need help?”
“I do. What I don’t see is why you could not ask an accountant from Google to assist you. Are you going to explain that to me before I look at your records?”
“Do I need to?”
I allowed myself a smile, a compromise, when what I really wanted to do was trail my fingers along Cam’s sculpted forearm, tracing the veins and corded muscle, absorbing the warmth from his tanned skin. “This is a conversation with many questions and no answers.”
“Does that bother you?” Cam’s gaze darkened and I felt the gravity of what he was asking me. And I appreciated it. It wasn’t as though I had a lot of answers to give myself.
“It does not bother me, at least not the way you may think. But I am naturally curious. If I want to know something, I will ask.”
“Do I get to ask questions too?”
“One of them should be to ask if I am a chartered accountant. I’m not, but you do not need one to file your accounts if they are up to date and correct.”
“Can you tell me that by looking at them today?”
“Do you have the log-in credentials for your online account at HMRC?”
Cam blinked. “My what?”
I smiled a little wider and pulled out a chair at the desk.
It really was going to be a gloriously long morning.
* * *
His name was Cameron O’Brian Jnr and he was the registered director, along with Nash McGovern and Orla “I just work here” O’Brian, of Kings Building Ltd. He was also the proud owner of an unpaid tax bill dating back two years, news he absorbed with a resigned sigh. “That’s just me, right? Not the company?”
I nodded and pointed at the screen showing the total amount he owed, including the hefty fine for persistent non-payment. “Do you have the money to pay it?”
“You tell me.”
“In your personal accounts? Only you know that. Your company books will take longer to dissect before I will know if there are funds to pay you a dividend.”
“Is that a hint for more coffee?”
