Chapter 18
After Tallulah left, Aiden found it hard to focus on the project he was reviewing. His blood still fizzled with adrenaline, but he hoped he hadn’t upset her too much. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d been carried away by the scenario he’d built up and completely forgotten that she prided herself on her professionalism. So do I normally, he thought. He’d assumed that, because she was on a temporary contract, she wouldn’t care whether rumours followed her about the building. He’d never behaved in such a manner before, at least not in his working life. He had been a bit wild as a student, but that was in the past. He wondered if the stress of coming back to London had unhinged him, because spinning that imaginary tale had given him a huge rush. I need to get back to New York, he told himself, before I go off the rails completely.
He glanced at his watch. It was half past five, and he told himself he should start looking through the emails IT had sent him. It would be boring by himself, but it needed doing. He opened the file and sat back, staring at the huge list of contents.
Why hasn’t Francesca been back? Surely, she would have wanted to know more about his ‘engagement’. He shook his head. He’d think about it later. He opened the first email.
Two hundred and thirty-three messages later, his mobile phone chimed. He picked it up to see his mother’s number flash on the screen. Reluctantly, he hit the accept call button. He was just beginning to get into his stride with the emails. Or not.
“Aiden?” Her voice was sharp.
“Yes, Mother? Father’s all right, isn’t he?” A brief flash of worry hit him.
“Your father’s fine. I’ve been talking to Francesca.”
“Really?” Aiden’s heart sank.
“She told me you were engaged. Why did I have to hear from her? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Aiden clenched his jaw. I never realised Sasha had such a big mouth? Any normal woman would have crawled away in defeat, accepted her cards quietly, and just gone. And Fran was worse. “It’s not set in stone yet,” he said.
“Sasha told Francesca you planned to get married.”
“I might have been a bit premature. Sasha was beginning to feel like a stalker.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” his mother said. “She’s a lovely girl.”
“Yes, but—”
“Don’t change the subject, Aiden. An engagement is an engagement. Francesca tells me you’ve got yourself tangled up with the young woman who substituted for Elaine. She had some sort of exotic name. Tinkerbelle?” Waves of disapproval leaked from the phone.
“Tallulah,” Aiden said, “and really, Mother, it’s early days yet.”
Her voice became chilly. “I want to meet her. Bring her to dinner on Saturday.”
“But—”
“I don’t want excuses. I want to meet the woman. I put up with Elaine McCoy for twenty-five years. I want to meet her replacement. Your sister and Gareth will be there as well. Seven for seven-thirty. Your father can’t take late nights at the moment.”
Aiden stared at the phone as she disconnected. Tallulah would be furious.
He logged off his computer and stood up, unable to concentrate. What made me think this was a good idea? He leaned his head against the cool glass of the window, looking out to where the setting sun bounced off the glittering buildings of the city. He’d go and get some food, then come back and do another couple of hundred emails.
It was ten o’clock when he found the first suspicious message. He was tired enough to almost miss it, and he’d moved on to read a couple more before something tickled the back of his mind. He re-opened the email. It was a note confirming an order, and when he compared it to the financial records, it corresponded to the inflated amount rather than the real order. He stared at the sender ID, and his heart sank. The name matched his suspicions, but he hoped he’d been wrong.
He saved the email into a separate folder and switched his computer off. He could carry on the next morning. He couldn’t face any more at the moment. He hurried out of the building, planning to swim in his apartment complex’s pool.
His mind raced as he walked back to Tower Hill, swinging between the suspect email and his suspect engagement. He would have to persuade Tallulah to come with him to his parent’s house on Saturday. There was no way he wanted to argue with his mother, or try to explain things to her. That could wait until he was safely home in New York. A shaft of guilt speared him as he imagined exposing Tallulah to his mother’s ice-queen persona.
He slowed down as he approached his apartment. If his suspicions about the email were correct, a lot of family issues would explode in the near future, making his fake engagement fade in comparison.
~ ~ ~
The door to Aiden’s office was firmly closed when Tallulah arrived the next morning, but she could hear him moving about. She set the coffee going before he emerged.
A small wrinkle marred his forehead, and his eyes were tired, as though he hadn’t slept. Forgetting her anger at him, she inspected his features carefully. “Are you all right?”
“I don’t know.”
“What?”
He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head.
“Aiden?” She pulled back until she could see his face.
He lowered his head and rubbed his mouth slowly over hers. Her eyes drifted closed.
He raised his head, but kept his arms round her. “I found some suspicious emails. I don’t know if I’m being overly cautious, but would you come and look at them?”
She shook off her languor and pulled away. “I’ll just get some coffee.” She poured two mugs, passed him one of them, and followed him into the inner office.
“Here.” He gestured for her to come behind his desk and unlocked the computer screen. “Read this, then look at that.” He pointed to a document lying next to the computer.
Tallulah put her mug down on the desk’s surface and read the message. It was fairly innocuous—just a summary of a construction order, sent to the accounts department. She frowned as she glanced at the document.
“Ah.”
“You see it, then?”
“They don’t match. Accounts is paying out about fifteen percent more than they should be, based on the delivery.” Tallulah reread the details of the order. “I can’t think of any reason why—”
“I found that last night,” Aiden said. “I looked for similar ones this morning, and I’ve already found two. It looks like deliberate fraud.”
Tallulah straightened. “What are you going to do?”
“Call the auditors. Get them to come in as soon as possible. We need to clear the company of wrongdoing before the next tax year.”
“At least you’ve found it.”
“Look at the name on the email.”
Tallulah looked. “Gareth Oliver? Why is the name familiar?”
“He’s the financial director.” Aiden blew out a worried breath.
“Well, you thought it would be someone senior.”
“And Fran’s fiancé.”
Tallulah stared at him. “Seriously? Does she know?”
“Fran?” Aiden shook his head. “Of course not. She wouldn’t do anything like this. Why would she?”
“Why would anyone?” Tallulah asked. “Money? I imagine Gareth what’s-his-name has plenty of that.”
Aiden shook his head again. “No. I know Fran. She wouldn’t steal from her own company.”
Tallulah shrugged. If that’s what he needs to think, then who am I to argue?
“I’m going to ring the auditing firm,” he said. “Just so that when I tell Fran what I know she won’t be able to dissuade me.”
“Would she do that?”
“She won’t believe it. If she loves Gareth, how could she?”
If she doesn’t believe it, why would she try to stop Aiden getting to the bottom of things? Tallulah left him to it and went back to her own desk. It didn’t look like the right time to kick up a fuss about a fake engagement.
Ten minutes later, Aiden drifted out again. “I’ve called. I’ll have lunch with Fran and tell her what we’ve found.”
Tallulah nodded.
Aiden hovered by her desk for a long minute, saying nothing.
Eventually she lost patience. “Was there anything else?”
“That engagement thing.” He rubbed his face.
“What about it? Maybe you can tell your sister at lunch. Take her mind off her own fiancé,” Tallulah suggested.
“I’m afraid it’s not that easy.” He came around to her side of the desk and stared over her shoulder at the screen.
“Of course it is. Just tell her you wanted to discourage Sasha.”
Aiden placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “I’m really sorry. Fran told my mother, and she wants you to come to dinner on Saturday.”
“No way. I hope you told her no.” Tallulah slipped out from under his hand and stood up. “Aiden?”
“She wouldn’t take no for an answer,” he said. “I tried to tell her, but she said she wanted to meet the new Elaine.”
Tallulah heaved an exasperated sigh. “I’m not any sort of Elaine. I hope you told your mother that?”
“I can’t be bothered to get into an argument with her at the moment. There’re too many other things going on.” Aiden shook his head. “What are you doing on Saturday? Are you free?”
“No.” Tallulah was glad she had a reasonable excuse. “I’m going to an art fair in Putney. I’m displaying some of my pop art work, and hopefully selling it.”
“What time does the fair finish?”
“No.” She folded her arms. “It goes on till five thirty, and then I’ll have to clear up.”
“I’ll help you,” Aiden said. “I can come along and help you set up as well.”
“No,” Tallulah repeated. “I have enough family issues of my own, without getting involved in someone else’s.”
“Please?” Aiden stared down at her, unsmiling.
Tallulah gritted her teeth. This was why she liked to keep her distance at work. People presumed. “I don’t—”
Aiden’s eyes melted into an expression of Bambi-like entreaty, and he placed both hands on her shoulders. “Please.”
She snapped. “Oh, all right. But just this once. And then you have to tell them the truth.”
Aiden squeezed her shoulders and kissed her, a quick hard kiss. “Thank you.”
He headed to the door. “Hey, Tinkerbelle? Do you want double time? For Saturday night?”
“Just get out.”
He closed the door behind him, but a moment later, it opened again. “Could you set up a lunch with Fran for me?”
He disappeared, and Tallulah sank back into her chair. He was impossible; there was no point in talking to him. She touched her fingers to her lips, which still tingled from the pressure of his and then rested her head in her hands.
~ ~ ~
“Why are we doing this?” Francesca gave him a suspicious look as they walked towards Tower Hill. “Not that I don’t want to hear about your engagement.”
“It’s only lunch,” Aiden protested. Fran must have picked up something from his body language that put her on high alert.
“Right. So tell me about Tinkerbelle.”
“Tallulah.” Aiden sighed. “It’s early days, but Sasha put me on the spot. I got carried away.”
“You’re bored, aren’t you?” She gave him a sidelong glance. “You must really hate the job. You always got into trouble when you were bored. Do you remember—”
“No.” He scowled. “And I was fifteen then.”
“So this thing with Tinkerbelle?”
He increased his pace. “I don’t know. I really like her, but she’s just not my type. She says I’m not hers either.”
“You’ve got a type?” Francesca asked.
“I thought I did. I thought Sasha was it. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“So why the lunch invitation?” She nudged him with her elbow. “Come on, Aiden. Seriously?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“What’s wrong?” She looked alarmed. “Is it father?”
Aiden snorted. “You’d be more likely to know about that than me.”
She shook her head. “We’re not really on good terms at the moment. I know he’s not been well, but really? Putting you in charge? I’ve been working for him for years. It was a slap in the face.”
“You know what he’s like. Anyway, as far as I know, he’s doing okay,” Aiden said. “Aren’t you going to dinner on Saturday night?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll see him then.”
“I see him,” she said. “I just don’t talk to him. I’ll see your fiancée then as well.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call her that. Nothing’s settled yet. You’ll scare her off.”
“Sasha told me—”
“Yeah,” Aiden said. “I was trying to convince her to back off. She’s not easily discouraged.”
“I like Sasha,” Francesca said.
“I like Sasha too,” Aiden said. “I just think that if I married her, one of us would be dead within a year. Thank God she dumped me.”
Francesca laughed as Aiden pointed at the bistro.
“I’ve booked a table.”
They were shown to a round table in a quiet corner of the restaurant, and Aiden ordered a bottle of wine before the waiter left.
“Don’t you intend to do any work this afternoon?” Francesca said.
Aiden rested his elbows on the table and looked at her. “I think we’re going to need a drink.”
Francesca narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s going on?”
The waiter arrived with a bottle of chilled white wine and poured it into glasses. Aiden waved him away as he offered a taste. “It’ll be fine.”
“Come on.” Francesca ignored her glass. “You’ve got me worried.”
Aiden told her about his father’s suspicions and why he’d been dragged back across the Atlantic to look into them.
“You’re not telling me he thought I might have something to do with this?”
“No.” Aiden picked his glass up and swirled the contents. He really didn’t want to have to tell her.
“Aiden? For God’s sake get to the point.”
“He didn’t suspect you,” he said. “But you are part of the senior management team. He thought you’d be too close.”
“I—”
“I would have told you,” Aiden said, “but I wasn’t sure he wasn’t being paranoid, and I didn’t want to stir things up for no reason.”
“So why are you telling me now?”
“I’ve called an external auditing firm in.”
“Good.” Francesca sipped at her wine.
“Francesca . . .”
“What?” She put her glass down. “Why are you looking like that? It’s not good, but at least we know about it.”
He took a deep breath. “I think Gareth might be involved.”
Francesca’s eyes widened. “No.”
“I found some incriminating emails. I’m sorry I—”
“I don’t believe you,” she said. “Gareth wouldn’t do this. Why should he? He’s independently rich.”
Aiden was clueless about Gareth’s financial affairs. “I hope I’m wrong,” he said. “That’s why I called in the auditors. I thought they would be independent and thorough.”
“They’ll find out who it really was.” Francesca looked down at the snowy table cloth. “I can’t believe . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“I’m sorry,” Aiden repeated. “I felt I should warn you in case they found anything.”
“They won’t.” Francesca looked up, her eyes fierce. “Not about Gareth. I’m going to ask him about this.”
“No.” Aiden reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “You can’t do that. I’m trusting you to keep quiet.”
“He’s my fiancé.” Francesca snatched her hand away. “I love him. How am I supposed to keep something like this from him?”
“Could you go away for a few days?”
She gave him a look of disbelief. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve work to do, and anyway, I’ve been commanded to turn up for dinner tomorrow.” She finished the wine in her glass and poured another.
“Francesca—”
“I won’t tell him,” she said. “But, when you find the real culprit, I want an apology. To Gareth as well.” She gulped down the wine and stood up. “I’m not hungry. I’m going home. Tell my PA to cancel anything I’ve got on this afternoon.” She grabbed her bag and stalked out.
Aiden sighed and summoned the waiter. That had gone as well as he’d expected.