A Natural Act (Contradictions) (38 page)

“Date?” I frown at him.

“Our dinner,” he nods his head insistently.

“You mean the thing I never said I’d do?” I cock my head at him playfully.

“You should go, lady,” Craig places four mugs on the table, somewhat precariously considering he’s carried them all at once.

“Are you actually telling me to go on a date with another man?” I poke him playfully.

“Sure,” he shrugs, lifting me up from the sofa without asking so he can take my place and sit me on his knee. “Only like you going out for dinner with Carla.”

“Only I don’t have a vagina and I think Izzy is hot,” Tucker winks at me.

“Don’t talk about my vagina,” Carla punches his knee.

“Izzy,” Craig mumbles under his breath. I don’t think he likes the nickname. “She is hot,” he agrees. “But she’s also mine.”

I squeeze his knee to remind him that I want to be his. I love that he isn’t threatened by Tucker. There’s no jealousy in our relationship and that’s exactly how I want it.

“Could be mine too,” Tucker crosses his arms like a child.

Craig laughs.

“Don’t see me as a threat, do you?” Tucker sighs.

“My girl loves me,” Craig grins at me.

“Finally
!” Carla yells exasperatedly. “Took you long enough.”

He just grins at me.

“You’re not getting a cheesy tattoo as well are you?” She asks me.

“You told her?” Craig squeeze my waist gently.

I nod. “She didn’t understand how I could be so sure you loved me when you dumped me.”

“I didn’t dump you,” he grumbles.

“What would you call it?” I mock him playfully.

“W
as giving you chance to find happiness that came from within. You were happy because of us. That’s not true happiness. You can’t find true happiness until you learn to love yourself. You couldn’t do that with all your focus on me.”

It’s like we’ve both forgotten we have company as our eyes are locked intensely on one another.

“You can’t love someone else until you learn to love yourself. You couldn’t do that without the time and space to forgive yourself for your past.”

“Need your mum’s number,” Craig tells me, coming up behind me in the kitchen and kissing the slope of my neck.

“Mmm,” I moan in appreciation.
“How come?”

“Need to thank her for yesterday,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over my skin.

“Are you trying to earn boyfriend points?” I turn around so I can loop my arms around his neck.

“No,” he grins. “It’s just manners. Your parents are lovely.”

“They are,” I sigh contentedly, more than overjoyed about the fact that they’ve now met Craig.

The atmosphere was so relaxed and easy, he was laughing and joking with my Dad and extremely courteous and respectful to my mum.

“They remind me of my parents,” he tells me.

I purse my lips and stroke the back of his neck because I wish I could take that pain away from him.

“Just in that they’re so caring and loving. Anybody can see they love the bones of you. That’s what my parents were like, they loved us all, faults and flaws included.”

“My parents really loved you,” I tell him. “My dad practically told you to marry me,” I grin.

“Guess I don’t have to be nervous about asking him for your hand,” he winks, turning and heading for the bathroom and leaving me to absorb that massive brain-bomb.

I think Craig Carter just told me he intends to marry me one day.

Mrs Isabella Carter.

It has a nice ring to it. I wouldn’t care what kind of ring it was as long as I was getting Craig in exchange.

“Where’s your head at, Bella?” Craig grins as he comes back in the kitchen. I suspect he knows exactly where it is so I just smile coyly at him.

“Like it when you smile,” he kisses my nose.

“I like it when you make me smile,” I return, pressing onto my tiptoes so I can kiss him back.

“My goal in life,” he replies seriously, lifting my butt up to rest on my worktop.

Oh, how I missed the worktop.

He presses my legs gently, urging them apart but they don’t need the guidance, they readily part for him.

“Want you now,” he tells me.

“Yes, please,” I reply breathlessly.

We hear a cough from the hallway and I almost jump off the counter at the intrusion. I was under the impression we were alone.

“E,” Craig groans in frustration squeezing the countertop and resting his forehead against mine. “Do you ever knock?”

“Got a key,” Ian answers and I can hear the smirk in his voice. He knows exactly what he’s interrupting.

I lean over Craig’s shoulder to glare at him and he winks back.

“Let’s get a move on,” Ian instructs.

“Now?” I pout.

“Sooner the better,” he nods.

I sigh. I don’t really want to do this but it needs to be done.

“We’ll be right there with you,” Craig promises, lifting me down to the floor somewhat reluctantly. He presses my body to his as I slide down, ensuring I feel his pressing issue as it becomes an issue for me too.

I wish we were alone.

“I know,” I take a deep breath.

I spend far too long in the bedroom looking at rails and rails of clothing. What do I wear to confront Nigel’s father? One of my power outfits from work? A classy dress? I don’t know what the situation requires. He’s a man who values appearances
as much as his son.

“What’s wrong?” Craig comes back into the room, hugging me from behind.

“I don’t know what to wear,” I pout in frustration.

“You normally just wear whatever you want,” he brushes my hair into a ponytail with one hand and runs his fingers through it to soothe me.

“But he’ll judge whatever I’m wearing,” I moan.

“So?” Craig shrugs. “Does his opinion matter to you?”

I shake my head adamantly.

“Then wear whatever makes you happy,” he tells me, placing a multitude of butterfly kisses to my neck.

He’s right. I spent too many nights being dressed like a doll so I could impress Nigel’s father, being primped and primed to look the part.

No more.

Today, I confront him as the woman I am, not the woman somebody else wants to be.

I expect to be restless on the drive over to the virtual mansion where his family resides, but I’m not.

I’m unexpectedly calm. I think that sense of serenity comes from Ian and Craig. Ian has taken control of the situation and it’s reassuring to the both of us.

I know Craig is nervous, not because he doesn’t trust Ian, but because there is so much riding on this. This meeting could potentially end our problems but – if Mr Callaghan has
an ace up his sleeve – it could also see them double.

“Just him and his wife and this house is twice the size of ours,” Ian remarks as we pull up to the
golden gates at the end of the driveway.

“And the dog, Snuffles,” I contribute.

“Snuffles,” Craig laughs derisively.

I have to agree, I always thought it was a ridiculous
name for Mrs Callaghan’s handbag companion.

“Know the combination, Isabella?” Ian prompts.

I reel it off from memory having seen Nigel key in the entrance code on multiple occasions.

When Ian pulls up outside the door, I take a deep breath and Craig reaches over to squeeze my hand.

Ian goes to ring the doorbell but I stop him because this is my move, I want to be the one to make it.

Mr Callaghan is probably in his study in the west wing so I don’t expect the door to open quickly.

Craig and Ian stand on each side of me, Greek columns of stability with the strength and agility of the Olympians. I feel almost like I fit in with them because I’ve never felt stronger.

When the gargantuan door opens, Mr Callaghan casts his gaze over us, his lip sloping downwards ever so slightly
in distaste.

“Isabella,” he greets me stiffly.

“Kind of you to invite us in,” Ian announces, clapping him on the shoulder as he enters the house.

Mr Callaghan’s large nostrils flare but that’s the only sign of irritation.

Ian acts like he’s been in the house a hundred times, making his way straight to the parlour and taking a seat. Our host storms after him.

“Guess we’
re going in,” Craig smirks, shaking his head at his older brother’s boldness.

“Apparently so.” I look around as we follow them in, remembering many stiff, awkward days at this house. The meals eaten in silence, the discussions a
bout the plague of the working class, the complaints about the golf club accepting new members who wore trainers on the course.

“I’m surprised to see you, Isabelle,” Mr Callaghan addresses me, ignoring my companions.

“I’m sure you are,” I reply with an insincere smile. “But there are things we need to discuss.”

“I’m not sure what we could possibly have to di
scuss,” he answers haughtily. “I was very clear to Nigel that you were too low brow for this family the very first time he brought you home. The day he rid himself of you was a happy day indeed.”

I feel Craig stiffen next to me
but I’m not offended. I don’t want to belong to a family like this, a family with no real love. I have my own family with no judgement and the new family I’ve found in the Carters.

“Nigel is what we are here to discuss with you,” Ian intervenes.

“And you are?” Mr Callaghan looks down his nose at Ian’s non-designer grey suit trousers and white shirt.

“Somebody who’d like to see Elliot Vanders go away for a very long time,” Ian answers with a neutral smile.

Elliot Vanders? I rack my brains. I vaguely remember his name on the client list but not it must be somebody from the London branch because otherwise I’d have known more about him.

“Excuse me?” he recoils, his face turning red with anger.

Ian continues unperplexed. “So you see, since you’re his legal representative, I know exactly who you are and have done for a very long time. I know the type of man you are.

I know you
’d rather sacrifice your son than your business.”

“What?” Mr Callaghan flaps, obviously caught off balance by this unexpected offensive.

“Every mysterious transaction, phone call, fax you ever asked me to make was documented,” I begin my spiel, speaking clearly and confidently because I know this information will come as a surprise to him. He didn’t see me as a threat, just as a dim-witted receptionist, despite the fact my education matched Nigel’s. “When a witness went missing or changed his story just after money left our accounts without explanation for example,” I smile sweetly. “Things like that would be very interesting to the police.”

I can tell he’s furious by the flare of his nostrils, the vein in his neck, and the colour of his face. I’d best describe it as puce.

“Here’s the deal,” Ian beams at me with what I think might be pride.

It feels good.

“Nigel makes his way into the hands of the police then that information stays where it is now. Isabella, Craig, and I will not breathe a word of it. Unless asked by the police of course, we won’t lie for you in a court of law.”

“You expect me to believe that?” He fumes.

“I don’t see that you have a choice,” Ian shrugs. It’s the same shrug as Craig has and I find I don’t mind it quite so much at the moment.

What I can read between the lines of Ian’s words, but Mr Callaghan is oblivious to, is that the information is already in the hands of the police. We’ll leave it where it is but it won’t save him any trouble.

We weren’t about to let him carry on defending bad people with worse measures.

“Nigel is going to go to Jail, Mr Callaghan, whether it’s sooner or later is up to you. I want to ensure he ends up there before he does something stupid.”

The difference between Nigel and his father is that Nigel was given everything in his life on a plate. He has manicured nails and pressed suits. His father built his business from the ground up, he values it above all else, his wife and son included.

He has rough hands, a bulbous belly, and greying hair.  Just like Nigel, he cares about appearances and his appearance is of a man who has worked his way up the social ladder, making a mockery of social mobility.

“Leave my house,” he growls after a few moment of tense but silent contemplation.

“Pass my regards to Mr Vanders,” Ian smirks as he stands to rising.

Mr Callaghan hasn’t agreed to anything but Ian seems to know what his next move will be. I wouldn’t be surprised if Nigel found his way into police custody by tonight.

“Who are those regards coming
from?” Mr Callaghan bites sarcastically.

“The man who made him a promise,” Ian casts over his shoulder cryptically.

“Do I want to know?” Craig asks his brother as we get into the car.

“Work,” Ian grunts.

Craig nods, reading between the lines and understanding there are no more questions he can ask.

“What do you do, Ian?” I ask, sort of blown away by the way he took charge and handled this situation. I was under the impression he was in the army but I’ve never seen him in military uniform but I see Karl in it quite often.

He seems to work down in London a lot.

“My official job title is filing clerk,” he answers seriously but I see a slight smirk on his brother’s face.

So much for Carters not lying, I’m clearly not being told the full truth here, but judging by his behaviour in that house, he’s calm in tense situations and privy to information beyond his perceived reach.

Perhaps I don’t want to know.

“We should celebrate,” Craig grins. “Dinner at Moonsha?”

“Shouldn’t we wait until he’s actually been arrested?”
I propose even though I love the Sushi at that restaurant.

“Deal’s done,” Ian assure me with a wink.

“Don’t wink at my girl,” Craig warns him playfully.

“Wink all I want,” Ian raises his eyebrow. “She’s still your girl.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, glaring meaningfully at my man who grins sheepishly back.

He isn’t threatened by any man but he’s lost too many of his play things to his brothers. With them, he’s possessive.

He knows he doesn’t need to be though, it’s just old habits dying hard. There is nothing more certain than our love for each other.

“Just the three of us?” Craig continues. “Or the others too?”

“Never get a table with all of us,” Ian points out.

“True,” Craig agrees. “It’s on me then.”

“Pfft,” Ian scoffs. “You earn peanuts now you’ve retired.”

Craig just laughs. “I’ll be a fully-fledged doctor in two months and then I’ll be loaded. I’ll earn more than you.”

“Do you know how much I earn?” Ian mocks.

“File clerks don’t earn that much, do they?” I interject sweetly because I’m not naive enough to buy that line.