Page 83 of Double or Nothing

No. He can’t.

Maybe it’s about Jack’s purchase. Yes. That’s it. It’s about the paintings Jack bought. Bill will want to discuss the donation, the buyer, the tax handling. That’s all. Perfectly explainable. Perfectly safe.

Except nothing feels safe anymore.

I stare at the email until the words blur, then force myself to stand up and act on them. My knees feel strange. My legs feel weak. Separate from me, as though they’ve opted out of the decision-making process and I’m forcing them to move.

I guess I am.

Bill’s office is at the far end of the executive floor, and this morning it feels like the longest walk in the whole of London. Pale grey walls, soft carpet, expensive art. Proper art, according to the men who pay the big money and call themselves patrons. Nothing like Alice’s studio, with its paint-spattered floors and beautiful chaos.

The thought almost floors me.

I should have stayed.

No. I should never have gone.

No. I should have stayed.

Fuck.

I knock on Bill’s door.

“Come in.”

His voice is warm. Familiar. Terrifying, nonetheless.

The lord of life itself, William Parker, is standing by the window, looking out across the city as though he owns every pane of glass in view. In some circles, he may as well.

His jacket is already on despite how early it is, navy, tailored, immaculate.

“Bryce,” he says, turning with a smile. “There you are.”

“Morning, Bill.”

His eyes travel over me.

Not blatantly. Bill is too polished for blatantly. It’s a quick scan. Hair. Shirt. Face. Back to eyes.

Bill Parker notices everything, just like Jack does.

The thought of Jack gives me a punch in the gut.

“Late night?” Bill asks.

The floor opens beneath me. I struggle to stay on my feet.

“I had a lot of wrap-up work after the event. I wanted to make sure the figures were ready for this morning.”

Excellent reply, I tell myself. Good. Sensible. Work-related.

Bill’s smile doesn’t waver.

“Of course you did. Dependable as always.”

The praise should settle me. It usually does. Pathetic, but true. A scrap of approval from Bill has always been enough to straighten my spine and make every ounce of exhaustion worth it.

“Take a seat,” he says.