Page 208 of Double or Nothing

Now I’m using that trust to protect Alice. And Jack.

And myself.

“I don’t want you brushing your needs aside under pressure,” Bill says. “Working every hour may have suited you once, but circumstances change. Please, take that seriously. Art is a key part of your interests, and I’ll help accommodate that as best I can. We have open invites to many events. Important ones.”

I almost laugh. Oh, the irony. The ridiculous irony.

“Thanks, Bill. I appreciate it.”

He believes the difference in my hours comes from grief, and love of art is the answer. He’s totally bought the pitch. He has no idea Sylvia’s absence hasn’t been the wound, it’s been the doorway.

“I’m working on it,” I say. “I’m socialising as best I can.”

“I’m pleased. Please continue.”

His approval touches the old part of me. I feel the strength of the attachment we once had, and it hurts. My betrayal of him feels like a crime.

Until his expression changes, filled with pure disdain.

“But what about this Reid situation? That part is not acceptable in the slightest.”

I keep my face still. Or try to. I keep the pain in my eyes as I look at him, because it’s still there. Just in a way he doesn’t realise.

“What about him? What situation?”

“I asked you to ensure he understood the boundaries of his position.”

“Yes. He’s well aware of the Parker name and the position that carries. He’s well aware that Alice is the sole heir of the Parker family, and how her future looks from that perspective.”

“Is he, really? And is he going to give that the respect it deserves?”

This is the moment.

No more truth twisted into a believable shape.

A direct question requires a direct lie.

I have never knowingly lied to Bill before. I’ve withheld opinions and allowed him to misunderstand my silence in meetings because it was easier than challenging him, but I’ve never once looked him in the eye and told him something false.

It’s surprisingly painful. It makes me want to throw up, right from the pit of my stomach.

But I think of Alice.

Not Alice Parker, daughter of the man opposite me.

Alice covered in paint. Alice laughing in Jack’s shirt. Alice staring at our passion fuelled explosion as though she placed her heart onto three canvases. Because she did. We did.

I think of Soul Girl, crying in my arms yesterday afternoon.

Then I think of Jack. His hand at my tie. His mouth against mine. His ridiculous faith that I could face William Parker and survive.

I hold Bill’s gaze.

“Jack won’t be a problem.”

My heartbeat is deafening.

I don’t blink as Bill watches me.