Chapter Fifteen
Bastian
Still Haunted
It seems like all the ghosts of my past have followed me to New York and taken up residence in the cab of my Mercedes, casting a blanket of dread to rival that of any haunted house. It’s been a long day, and the fresh air’s taken a toll on both of us. I’m tired as I grip the wheel and drive in silence across Long Island and over the bridge into Manhattan. Mara’s barely said a word to me since lunchtime. Something happened while I was on the phone to the mainland, I’m certain of it. But what?
Dirk’s sudden reappearance in my life doesn’t sit well with me, either. I only accepted his invitation because Mara seemed so keen on going sailing. I don’t need my former best friend and partner shadowing me, bringing back memories I’ve tried very hard to leave behind. Just when I was beginning to feel strong enough to let go of Celine, the sight of Dirk brings her memory rushing to the surface, threatening to undo all the headway I’ve made with Mara.
Damn. I hate this rift that has somehow grown between us in just a matter of hours. It throws off my stride. Things had been going so well, Liam’s plan executed flawlessly with Mara’s help. I’d gotten too comfortable; grown used to having her by my side, playing her role to perfection. It irritates me that she might’ve grown tired of it; or if I’m being honest, that she’s grown tired of me. That thought sets alarm bells ringing in my head. I’m slipping up letting my emotions come into play. This wasn’t meant to be anything more than a business arrangement.
She’s staring out the passenger window, her hands clenched stiffly in her lap, and I’ve had enough of this attitude.
“Did you enjoy your time on the yacht?” I ask, breaching the void.
“Yes. But it got cold toward the end.”
Yeah. I got that. Feeling the shivers even now, but not from the temperature. “Mara, if this is going to work, we have to be honest with each other. You’ve been pouty and distant ever since I left to take that phone call, so out with it. What’s bothering you? I have a low tolerance level for female manipulation.”
She jerks her head toward me, her mouth part way open. “Manipulation? Well, I guess I’d know about that, wouldn’t I, since I’m sleeping with the Master.”
Whoa. Where is this coming from? She’s outside the lines. “Don’t you speak to me that way,” I caution her, my hackles threatening to rise. “You’re still my employee. That’s hardly a professional comment.”
“Your employee?” she repeats, acid creeping into her voice. “I agreed to be your fiancée; that implies at least some degree of equality, of respect for my intelligence. But I see now I’m just one of your... minions. Unworthy of being told the real truth, until I stumble over it and break my neck.”
I slow the vehicle and pull over. “What in hell are you talking about?” I demand. “You know everything. It’s a publicity stunt. I never said otherwise.”
Mara hisses out a breath and shakes her head. “Your friend Dirk had plenty to say. Your wife didn’t die of a jungle fever. He said you killed her, her and sixteen others, because of negligence. Because of greed; hiring substandard contractors to save a buck, and in the end, it cost people their lives. That’s why you holed up in France for so long, hoping it would blow over and the world would forget what you did. And it worked, especially since you invented this fairy tale romance to get the public to remember you, like you again. It’s all a giant smokescreen.”
I drum my fingers on the padded steering wheel, my teeth grinding against one another. It wasn’t so long ago I was the one upset at not knowing the truth that Mara was a virgin. Emphasis on ‘was.’ You hypocrite, Kingsley. But at least I know now what my slimy frenemy Reinhart’s game plan was.
“Dirk had no right to tell you any of that,” I say.
“He had every right, he was there! And I had a right to know, Bastian. I’m your partner too, even if only a pretend one. What if a reporter had asked me about the mine, about Celine? You know how the paparazzi are—popping out of nowhere to ambush you, catch you unprepared.”
“You say ‘no comment’ or nothing at all,” I reply sternly. “It doesn’t implicate you. In a few weeks, Liam will announce we’re no longer engaged, and you can go your merry way, a rich woman, I might add.”
“You think this doesn’t affect me?” Mara gasps. “My career could be at stake. Engaged to a murderer! I could be seen as condoning your actions, or just plain stupid to be hoodwinked by you. I might never work in this industry again, never find another job doing what I love, what I studied for. That’s more important to me than money.”
“You think that’s the worst of it? That you’re the only injured party? It’s nothing. You have no idea what injury is,” I say. “You want the truth? Then listen to me. I tried to do the right thing, hire local and all of that. You think the South Africans wanted another rich white entrepreneur raping them of their natural resources? I went to Cape Town, solicited the most notable engineering firm, got quotes, the entire thing specced out to the last detail, and signed off on it. But they didn’t follow the plan. They went behind my back to undercut materials, alter the design structure without proper change orders. They wanted it to fail, Mara. To chase GeoRock out. But I won’t be chased out again. North Cape is going to set everything right.”
I stop for breath, surprised at the extent to which I’m spewing my emotions, my anguish, and my single-minded ambition. It’s what happens when you keep the bottle corked for so long. Mara is silent, her face pale and her eyes round as two moons. But I’m not finished.
“You think I’d put people at risk, even my own wife? Is that how low your opinion of me is? For Christ’s sake, Mara—I loved her, she was at the mine every day, just as I was. We had a child to think about. We had every reason to play it safe, go by the book.”
“I’m sorry...” Mara says, barely audible, but I’m beyond apologies now.
“As for Dirk’s version of the story, he has his own reasons to tar me black. We were friends, the three of us—Celine, Dirk, and me. We went to college together, and eventually into business together. But after the mine collapsed, he changed. He started drinking, behaving erratically. One day he took a swing at me, a knock-down drag-out, but he was too drunk to finish what he started, so he lashed out at me another way. Accused me of murdering Celine and the others. He’d never said a thing all those years, was even the best man at our wedding, but he was in love with her, too, since the day we both met her. He never forgave me, and clearly, still won’t. He wants to make sure I’m miserable forever, so he saw a chance to hurt me again. By turning you against me.”
I feel spent, wrung out. My midnight confessions leaving me empty and raw, except for the embers of anger at Dirk and the whole rotten saga of the last seven years of my life that still smolder. I need to get on with the real business of GeoRock. Not this stage play. And I’m pulling the curtain right now.
“Time for you to go home,” I mutter, and pull away from the curb to navigate the last few blocks to Mara’s apartment building.
“I should never have asked to go sailing,” she says after a few moments. “I should’ve let you handle the situation with Dirk. I won’t make that mistake again, putting you on the spot like that.”
“I know you won’t,” I say as we reach the front entrance and shift into park. “You won’t have to do a thing anymore or be worried about your career. I’m canceling the engagement contract, as of right now. You’re free to go.”
“What?”
“You’ll have your money by e-transfer in the morning. The whole million. Go traveling, or whatever you like. I’m sure you’ll find a new job, a better one. One that pays. Consider your internship terminated.”
“Bastian...” Mara says, her welling tears accentuating the aquamarine color of her eyes. I have to look away before I get lost in them, like I know deep down that I want to. I’ve been doing it for weeks, letting her get closer, get under my skin; allowing her to think our relationship is more than it appears. And maybe it is. I’ve really fucked up if that’s the case. I can’t let it go any further.
“I’m sorry,” Mara says. “Please, you don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do. For your sake, as much as mine. I’ll walk you to the door.”
“Don’t bother,” she says with a sob, pulling the door handle.
I watch her storm up the walkway and slip inside the outer doors, fumbling for her keys. She doesn’t look back. Probably a good thing. Because if she did, I might find myself running up that same walkway, tossing her keys in the bushes and carrying her home with me, thrown over my shoulder, Shrek-style. As she disappears into the dark building, part of me goes with her. The best part. The part capable of loving again. And I may have just thrown away my last chance to get it back.