Page 42 of Seasons of Sin

She had to bite down on her tongue to stop from rolling her eyes. “I don’t need him, or anyone, to act for me. This will be a simple divorce proceeding. Draw up the papers and I’ll look them over.” She curled her hand around his cheek. “I need to tell dad before he hears it from someone else. He’ll be furious — with you — if he’s caught unawares.”

Jordan had the good grace to look mortified. “What can I do to change your mind?”

Her smile was wan. “Go back in time, and don’t sleep with my best friend.”

He shook his head. “What else?”

“Nothing.” She tilted her head to one side and dropped her hand. “This isn’t a reaction, Jordan. It’s an acceptance of a fact you and I should have appreciated a long time ago. We’re notin love. We don’t love one another. We’re a terrible couple.” She pulled the door inwards and flashed a final smile in his direction. “Email me a copy of the papers when they’re ready.”

He nodded, too shocked to speak.

Saphire moved further down the corridor to the large glass doors at the end. She knew them well. She’d spent so much time in her father’s office that she’d joked it was like a second home. She’d loved it as a child; the smell of stationery and the background sounds of efficient work.

She tapped on the door briefly and then pushed it inwards. His personal assistant inclined her head and then smiled. “Saff, darling, how are you?” She asked, standing and moving around the desk to place a kiss on Saphire’s cheek.

“Hi, Linda. I’m great, thanks,” and surprisingly, the words felt sort of true. “Can I grab a minute with him?”

Linda nodded. “He’s got a board meeting in ten … but he can be a little late.”

“That’s fine,” Saphire shook her head. “This won’t take long.”Coward, she thought with a small smile. Would her dad be even more pissed off when she dropped the bombshell and ran?

“Go on in,” Linda nodded towards Angus Morrison’s doors.

Saphire pushed them in, noting the obvious differences between her husband’s office and that of her father. Despite the fact Jordan’s office was an executive space, Angus’s was something else. His view over London was incomparable; she could see all the way over the Tower, the Shard, towards the park. Her eyes glossed over the details gratefully. London was beautiful and she’d always loved it, though it was nothing now to the placel’isola Ouranooccupied in her heart.

“Dad,” she smiled at him as he unfurled his slim frame from behind his enormous desk. Papers were everywhere. There was no computer. Only a barely used iPad perched perilously on the very corner of the table top, as a grudging concessionto technology. Angus Morrison was, and always would be, old school.

“Saphire,” his voice was rich with pleasure. “To what do I owe the visit?” His lips tightened a little. “I suppose you were here to see Jordan?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” she nodded. “Coffee?”

“Always,” he preceded her, moving towards the kitchenette across the room. He pushed a cup under the nozzle and waited for it to begin to drain. He set it aside and then repeated the motion. Sapphire scooped the first cup up and cradled it in her hands.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“So? How’s things, kiddo?”

She winced. “Well, I guess there’s no easy way to tell you this …”

He angled his head towards her and his skin had a grey pallor beneath his summer tan. “You’re pregnant?”

Saphire arched a perfectly shaped brow enquiringly. “No. I gather that wouldn’t be good news?”

He recovered quickly. “Of course it would be,” he denied, but Saphire had caught his first reaction.

“You really don’t like Jordan, do you?”

“How many times have you asked me that, Saphire? He’s only a year or two shy of being made head of corporate litigation. I’ve mentored the guy. He’s my son-in-law.”

Her smile was distracted. “Because I know you and I know you don’t like him.”

Angus made a sound of frustration. “I’m not going to have this conversation with you again, darling. It’s fruitless now that you’re married. Any doubts your mother and I had were erased by your commitment to him. Besides, what matters is how you feel.”

“Yeah, I know.” She bit down on her lip. “Which brings me to the reason I’m visiting.”

“Go on,” he nodded towards his own suite of comfortable armchairs and Saphire walked by his side.

She settled into one of them and sipped her coffee, then placed it on a glass topped table to her left. “I don’t want you to blame Jordan.” God, those words hurt to say, but she knew it was the right way to handle things. “I mean it, daddy. I’m just asking you to be fair, okay?”