Chapter 17
Sky
Two days ago, while ice skating with Kjell, I forgot to be careful. Since I realized that, I've been going through our time in Hellasgården over and over in my mind. Always searching for mistakes.
Did I reveal too much?
I forcefully ignore the looks he threw at me in my memory, just as I push aside the tingling sensation his presence triggered in me. Only what I entrusted to him matters.
He knows I used to be atTouch av lyxconstantly as a child. Could he deduce who I am from that?
No. He didn't ask where my connection to the company came from. Maybe that thought never even crossed his mind?
On the other hand, he's seen me twice in the hospital already. And even though neither Kahlo nor the seamstress in Milan mentioned my given name, he could at least have guessed it. Couldn’t he?
Oh boy.
"It wasn't much, and he has no reason to dig deeper." I try to calm myself as I glide into Father's executive chair.
Perhaps just to avoid letting another thought rise. One that's even scarier than the worry that he might find out who I am.
Opening up to him, spending time with him, being close to him. It all felt so good. So good, as if I were about to...
Stop. I'm not.
I quickly turn my attention to the computer that the IT department unlocked this morning. All day, I've been studying both Father's and Stig's emails and trying to get up to speed on the current issues.
Price negotiations with a French fabric supplier. Job postings for two new accountants. Quarterly financial reports.
As hard as I tried, my thoughts never stayed on business for long. They kept drifting back to Kjell, as if drawn there on their own.
"Just a small, insignificant glimpse into my childhood. Nothing about my parents, almost nothing aboutTouch av lyx, nothing about my mistake," I remind myself.
It's not that bad.
Everything is fine.
And besides, the outing, despite its abrupt ending, worked wonders. Because yesterday, I suddenly figured out how to change Kahlo's mind. I spent the entire Sunday refining the plan, and today, on my first day at the headquarters, I'm ready to put it into action.
My gaze flickers to the antique grandfather clock adorning Father's massive desk. It's just past five in the afternoon. Kahlo should have arrived by now.
What if he's ignoring the appointment? What if even this is a power play for him, a way of showing me that he won't be bossed around by me?
With a nervous gesture, I turn on the desk lamp. In early November, the sun often hides behind thick clouds all day. Even though it hasn't set yet, darkness already creeps into the office.
I let my gaze wander absentmindedly. It's so empty in this office. It was that way in my childhood, and even then, that emptiness felt oppressive. But today, it's much worse.
It's loneliness. It's Father's coma. It's my failure. And it's my fear.
"Here I am. What do you want?"
As if out of nowhere, Kahlo stands before me. When did he enter the room? And what does he have clamped under his arm? A newspaper?
Doesn't matter. I attempt a professional smile, rise from my seat, and gesture for him to sit at the conference table with me. "Thank you for coming."
He theatrically checks his wristwatch, then lets out a feigned sigh. At least he takes a seat. He places his item on the chair beside him so I can't see it.
"We have a lot to discuss," I say firmly because Father wouldn't approve of me showing vulnerability to Kahlo.
