‘What values? Winning?’ I try for a laugh but it falls flat.
Theo’s sharp blue gaze nails me in place. ‘The value of not having your star flanker’s arse and dick plastered across the internet, probably.’
The jab is clean and surgical. Right to the bone and well deserved.
Charlie releases a measured exhale that drains the room. ‘We lost the Jessica Adair account this morning.’
I frown. ‘The tennis player?’
‘That’s the one.’ She drops her hand, her expression grim. ‘Said she couldn’t risk the “association”. The point stands, Finn. I’m taking hits for you. This scandal has wiped half the goodwill we built the first half of the season. And the press won’t drop it because, sadly, you look good naked.’
A searing spike of shame pierces my chest. It’s one thing for me to be in the shite. It’s another to take them down with me. I stare at the grain of the desk, at a tiny coffee ring near the edge. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ Charlie says. ‘Be useful. Loyalty isn’t a renewable resource. It’s a choice. And I’m choosing to stick it out with you. Don’t make me regret that.’
She twists the Montblanc pen between her fingers. ‘Who filmed it?’
My head snaps up. ‘What?’
‘The video. Who put the camera in the room?’ She leans forward again. ‘It wasn’t a security feed.’
‘It wasn’t them,’ I say instantly. A gut reaction. ‘The sisters. Not a chance.’
Theo raises a sculpted eyebrow. ‘You seem awfully certain.’
‘They’ve got proper careers. One’s a barrister, the other works in finance, according to my research.’ Of course I googled them after our little orgy. ‘They don’t need this headache any more than I do.’
We’d laughed about it over hangover breakfast. How disastrous it would be if anyone found out.
Famous last words.
Charlie nods slowly, considering it. ‘I agree, it seems unlikely. The hotel did a sweep. None of their staff were involved. Or at least, none of them are talking.’ She lets the silence hang in the air.
The temperature nosedives, and the walls seem to close in. If it wasn’t the sisters, and it wasn’t the hotel… Who else was there? Who else knew? A name surfaces in my head. Kit. He’d been at the chalet with us that night, holding court in the hotel bar earlier. His face flashes through my mind – that chummy grin, the way he’d clapped me on the shoulder at the bar. ‘Finn, my boy. Always the life of the party.’
‘There was someone else.’ My voice drops. ‘Kit Lascelles-Finch. He was at the hotel and the chalet that night.’
Charlie’s stare slits to a knife-edge. ‘The baron’s son?’
‘Yeah.’ I drum my fingers against my thigh.
Theo’s typing on her tablet. ‘What’s his angle, do you know?’
‘Money? Boredom? The man’s a human bin fire with a trust fund.’ I scrub my scalp, chasing any logical thought. ‘He’s a party pal. And we’ve got history. Not all good history.’
‘Define not good,’ Charlie insists.
‘He washed out of the academy. I didn’t.’ I shrug, but there’s nothing casual about the tension scaling my neck. ‘Plus, I might have shagged his sister at his birthday party. Two years in a row.’
Theo stops typing. ‘Charming.’
‘It was mutual and consensual. And ages ago.’
‘So he has motive,’ Charlie says. ‘That’s somewhere to start.’
‘Aye, maybe. But I don’t think he’d do it. He’s a twat, but he’s kind of a pal.’ I glance at Theo. ‘You think I’m a complete disaster, don’t you?’
‘No comment.’
