The Ruthless Gentleman(69)

“On the Athena?” My pulse began to throb in my neck.

“As opposed to which other crew members?”

“But nothing’s leaked. I’m just waiting for my investors. We’re nearly done.” Shit. I couldn’t lose things this late on, could I? Was this the reason Phoenix had asked for money? Had they had a better offer from Cannon?

Mentally I scanned through which crew member it could be. The only one I’d anything to do with other than Avery was Skylar. Was it possible someone was sneaking about among my things when they thought I was sleeping or on the main deck?

“Do you have the name of the crew member you think is compromised?” I asked.

Taps on keyboards echoed down the phone. “Avery Walker. She’s the chief stewardess, right?”

I tried to swallow but my throat constricted and I coughed. “No, it won’t be Avery. You’ve got it confused. Do you have a photo? Is it a woman? Does she have white-blonde hair?”

“No, brown hair. It’s in a ponytail in one shot. Down in another.”

My heart stammered in my chest, as if it were knocking at my ribcage, trying to get out. “No, there must have been a mistake.”

“Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Yeah, but Avery wouldn’t betray me. And like I said, Cannon haven’t managed to disrupt this and steal this company from under me.” Not yet anyway.

“Look, my man over there has spotted her three times with the same guy in different locations. We looked into him and he’s some kind of ex-MI5 guy. Works for a firm we know Cannon pay for intelligence. A Phil Dyer, but he uses various aliases. James Cree is a favorite. Alfie Molloy is another.”

It couldn’t be true. There must be some mistake . . . but Landon didn’t get shit like this wrong. “You have photos of her and this guy? And even if you do, that doesn’t mean anything though, right? Perhaps he approached her, but that doesn’t mean she told him anything. He might have been coming on to her, trying to compromise her and failing.”

Landon’s silence on the other end of the phone told me he thought I was being an idiot and was trying to piece together why.

I ended his torture. “I’ve been sleeping with her.”

“Jesus, you’re an idiot. I told you I’d arrange company if—”

“Landon,” I growled. I didn’t want to hear how he thought I was a teenager who couldn’t do with my fist for a couple of months in exchange for a successful deal that would feature in my fucking obituary. It hadn’t been like that. Not that lust hadn’t played a part, but it was more than that. I couldn’t have stayed away from her if I’d tried. And I had tried.

And she’d tried to keep away from me. As much as she wore a mask, the way she fought against crossing the line between guest and crew couldn’t have been faked. Could it? If I’d not bumped into her at the theater, we may never have ended up spending the day and night together.

Had she engineered that?

Had she deliberately played coy to throw me off guard?

Fuck. I didn’t know anything anymore.

“You’re sure it’s Avery?”

“Can you get to shore? I can have someone meet you with the evidence in thirty minutes.”

“But it’s just photographs of her talking to some guy?”

“In one of the photographs, she was given a satellite phone.”

She’d told me the yacht only had one satellite phone and that she wasn’t allowed to use it much. That was why she’d had to use mine. Had that been another lie?

“She has an established line of contact. This wasn’t a one-off.”

My only hope was this wasn’t Avery. That Landon was confused. At a push, August’s hair could be described as brown, although it was so dark, wouldn’t most people call it black or at least dark brown?

I stood up. I had to see more evidence. I trusted my brother, but it was hard for me to believe I’d been so wrong about someone. I had to find that phone, see those pictures with my own eyes and confront her. “I need to see the evidence.”





Thirty





Hayden


Did she suspect I knew what she’d done? As much as I didn’t want to look, I couldn’t help but be drawn to Avery standing on the main deck as the tender got closer to the boat. As usual, her hair was scraped back into an efficient ponytail.

Unfortunately, Landon hadn’t mistaken August for Avery. The photographs his contact had shown me had been conclusive. Avery had met with an ex-MI5 agent on three separate occasions. Once might be explainable. Twice even. But three times she’d spoken to this guy, once just after our night together in Taormina.

Avery knew I was buying Phoenix. She’d seen the bloody documents. She could have worked out the price and the main terms . . . but the deal hadn’t been stolen from me. Not yet.

Why hadn’t Cannon stepped in? Was Avery part of a longer-term approach? Perhaps there were plans in place I didn’t know about.

I’d spoken to my investors onshore, and they’d agreed to the price increase. I was an inch away from completing the deal of the decade, the most significant transaction of my career, and yet I wasn’t elated. Adrenaline ran through my veins, but it wasn’t victory that had put it there. It was anger.