Page 15 of So Close to You
The doorbell rings at exactly seven-thirty.
Adrian Beckett enters with the elegant confidence of someone accustomed to commanding any space, even the most intimate ones. Tall and impeccably dressed in a dark suit that accentuates his athletic build, he shakes Elliot’s hand firmly while his wife, Claire, greets Seraphina with that refined, slightly distant cordiality characteristic of the women in her social circle.
“What a chilly evening it’s turned out to be,” Claire remarks as she removes her cashmere coat and hands it over. “I love how the wind whistles through the trees.”
“It’s Manchester trying to live up to its reputation,” Seraphina replies with a polite smile. “I love it too.”
Dinner begins in impeccably civilized fashion. The conversation flows through politics, international investments, and the usual remarks about private schools and upcomingfamily vacations. Seraphina moves between the kitchen and the dining room, refilling glasses, overseeing the courses, and maintaining that cool elegance so admired in business circles. But inside, she feels exhausted, on the verge of collapse.
Every time she pauses for more than a few seconds, her mind returns to an image she wishes she could stop replaying. Nerissa’s ragged breathing, her whispered words.
“Just tell me you can go home to Elliot, kiss him, and pretend this doesn’t exist.”
But the problem is that she can’t pretend anymore. And that inability is beginning to seep into the smallest details.
Because Seraphina’s hand trembles slightly as she pours the wine. She loses her train of thought for a few moments. And she catches herself staring at a spot on the table while Elliot speaks.
“The legal team has been ironing out the final details of the contract with the Premier investment fund for weeks,” Elliot remarks as he carves the roast. “It’s a masterstroke. If the group acquires the high-performance clinics, they’ll monopolize sports traumatology throughout the North. And they have the perfect card to convince investors: Dr. Ashcombe.”
Seraphina doesn’t move a muscle. She doesn’t even blink. But she feels her pulse racing violently beneath her skin.
“They say she’s still working miracles on the knees of half the forwards in Europe,” Elliot continues with sincere admiration, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside his wife.
Seraphina holds her glass of Pinot Noir a fraction of an inch from her lips, trying to buy herself a moment.
“She’s certainly an excellent surgeon,” she replies, feigning complete composure. So convincingly that even she surprises herself. “Her department is the merger’s strongest asset.”
“Excellent doesn’t even begin to cover it, honey,” Elliot replies with a smile as he takes a sip of wine. “Helena confessed to me that keeping Ashcombe in Manchester and making sure she doesn’t leave is the top priority. She has an impeccable reputation.”
Seraphina’s blood runs cold while Adrian lets out a brief, controlled laugh.
“Medical stars always bring in money. Talent sells very well to boards of directors.”
“And Nerissa has plenty of that,” Elliot continues, oblivious to the effect his words are having. “Though I suppose dealing with geniuses of that caliber on the financial side must be a headache, right, Phina? People with that much talent tend to think they’re above the rules.”
Seraphina can taste anxiety in her mouth. She knows perfectly well how dangerous Nerissa can be when she decides to ignore the rules. She can still feel her hands, her breath, the intensity of her gaze.
“We all have weaknesses, Elliot. Even the brightest minds,” she replies with apparent calm.
Adrian’s voice cuts in.
“The fascinating thing about top executives and doctors at that level is how well they handle pressure. They live permanently in the spotlight, under the constant scrutiny of boards, investors, and the press. It must be exhausting to keep up appearances twenty-four hours a day… knowing thatthe slightest mistake could bring down a multimillion-dollar operation.”
The silence that follows lasts barely a second, but to Seraphina it feels like an eternity. An icy chill runs through her stomach.
Does he know something?
The question explodes in her mind with brutal force. She no longer trusts her own perception; ever since the gala, she has been living in a constant state of alertness, where every gesture seems to conceal a threat.
Elliot, completely oblivious, lets out a laugh.
“Please, Adrian, don’t talk about corporate crises over dinner. You’ve got enough on your plate balancing the books with all the cuts they’re demanding.”
“You’re right. Bad idea,” Adrian admits, raising his glass to Seraphina in an elegant gesture. “To perfect balance sheets.”
The smile accompanying the toast is impossible to read. Seraphina’s heart is pounding so hard she fears the others might hear it.
Luckily, Claire completely breaks the moment.
