The Mark

I was meeting my younger sister Niamh for a drink after work at one of London’s swanky hotels. Now, you might think there is nothing unusual about two sisters catching up over a cocktail but it’s nothing short of a miracle I still have a sister. It’s also a miracle Niamh could not only book the venue but get there without her support worker. And it’s an even bigger miracle I arrived at the hotel more or less on time.

I’m normally a super punctual person but my last client of the day wanted some changes to the plans I was drawing up for his luxury villa in Italy. Before you get too excited, the client is nudging eighty and he’s building it for his grandchildren. Lucky grandchildren. The only thing I got from my paternal grandparents was a chip on my shoulder. Long story. I won’t bore you with it.

I spotted Niamh sitting in the brass and glass mezzanine level area, surrounded by gorgeous fresh flower arrangements that made it look like summer had come inside. Which was kind of nice because even though it was June, summer certainly hadn’t made much of an appearance outside. It had rained for twenty-two days in a row. But I live in hope.

 I moved through the chairs and tables, and I noticed with a pulse-tripping jolt that Niamh was not alone. A stop-your-heart- handsome dark-haired man was beside her seated in a wheelchair. He looked vaguely familiar and I narrowed my gaze as I tried to place him. Neither he nor Niamh were looking my way, they seemed completely absorbed in each other. Yikes! They were even holding hands.

Okay, so now you’re probably wondering why I was so surprised to see my sister holding hands with a gorgeous-looking man. Why shouldn’t my sister be happy in love or lust or whatever?

Because while my sister is twenty-seven years old, she is still in many ways a child and it is entirely my fault.

Niamh looked up and saw me standing there and waved me over with an excited gleam in her eyes. ‘Ash, come and meet Ethan Barlowe. Ethan’s older brother Grayson will be here soon.’

Grayson Barlowe? I had to force myself to walk without stumbling. I had to force myself to smile as if everything was okay. But everything was not okay. It was seriously not okay. Barlowe was not an uncommon name but...surely Ethan’s brother couldn’t be...? I swallowed a furry thickness in my throat and looked at Ethan’s darkly handsome features again. That glossy black hair and those grey-blue eyes were so incredibly familiar, and yet Ethan had laughter lines I had never seen on Grayson Barlowe’s face.

I offered my right hand to Ethan. ‘Nice to meet you, Ethan.’

There was an awkward moment when he offered his left hand instead of his right but then I realized he couldn’t use his right hand at all. It lay limply on his thigh. I noticed then that his wheelchair was a motorized one, no doubt because it would be impossible for him to wheel himself about without the use of both hands.

‘Lovely to...m-m-meet you, Ash. Niamh’s t-t-told me so much about...you.’ Ethan’s voice had a slight stutter and he paused and frowned fiercely in concentration before he said some words, as if his brain had trouble deciding which word to use. I’m an architect, not a neurologist, but I can recognize an acquired brain injury when I see it. Besides, for twenty years I’ve been managing my sister’s.

There was the sound of someone approaching and I didn’t need to turn around to see who it was. I could recognize that slightly uneven gait anywhere. A shiver ran down my spine like an ice-footed spider and my heart began to pound like I was having some sort of medical event. I caught a whiff of expensive aftershave, one I had smelled three months ago at the Architectural Awards event where I was pipped at the post by Grayson Barlowe, who took home the major award that I had coveted for months and stupidly thought would be mine. Not because of an overblown sense of my creative ability but because so many of my colleagues had said my entry was sure to win. It didn’t. And it particularly rankled that Grayson Barlowe had won it instead.

We’ve been business rivals for years. The rivalry didn’t start with us, it started with his grandfather and my father. They were at war the entire length of their careers and even though they are both now deceased, the battle hadn’t gone to the grave with them. Out of respect for my father, I continued to resent Grayson Barlowe and all he represented. Not that he isn’t a creative genius. I’ve lost count of the number of awards he’s won for his stunning and innovative designs. I’m just insanely jealous of his success which seems to come so easily to him. Oh, and the fact that he’s a playboy who only has to look at a woman to get her to fall at his feet in a swoon. Not me, though. I’m fully vaccinated and completely immune to his polished brand of male charm.

‘Grayson,’ Ethan said, smiling broadly at his older brother. ‘Come and meet my...my fiancée.’

‘Fiancée?’ Grayson Barlowe and I spoke in shocked unison—although his voice was low and deep and kind of raspy and sexy. Mine was more like the sound of someone inadvertently stepping on a squeaky toy.

Niamh’s smile was even wider than Ethan’s. She held up her left hand and an expensive-looking engagement ring flashed with a brilliance that rivaled the sparkles in her eyes. ‘Ethan proposed to me earlier this week. That’s why we wanted you both here to celebrate with us this evening.’

I was having trouble finding my voice. I was having trouble believing my sister had met and fallen in love with someone without me knowing anything about it. I was having trouble standing next to Grayson Barlowe without dropping at his Italian leather-clad feet in a swoon. He was wearing a charcoal-grey business suit that highlighted the width of his broad shoulders and the long lean length of his legs. His ink-black hair was swept back off his face similar to his brother’s but, unlike Ethan, Grayson had flecks of grey at his temples, giving him a distinguished, older, and wiser look that somehow made him even more attractive.

His ice-blue eyes met mine and a current of energy hit me like a lightning zap.

‘Did you know anything about this?’ There was an accusatory quality to his voice that reminded me of a high school teacher I had a showdown with when I was fifteen. I wasn’t so sure I could win a face-off with Grayson as my opponent, but I was going to have a red-hot go at it. But don’t get me started about my combative nature.

‘No, nothing. Did you?’ I shot back.

Grayson’s lips thinned into a grim flat line. ‘Of course not.’ He turned back to face his younger brother, a frown carved deeply between his eyes. ‘How long have you known each other?’

‘Six weeks,’ Ethan said with a defiant light in his eyes.

‘Six weeks!’ Grayson and I did the speaking-in-unison thing again. Well, he spoke, I screeched like a startled cat.

I looked at Niamh. ‘How can you be sure he’s the one in such a short time?’

Niamh’s chin came up and her eyes took on the same defiant gleam as Ethan’s. ‘We knew the minute we met each other at the gym. I thought you’d be happy for me. I haven’t had a boyfriend before and Ethan is so kind and good and—’

‘Rich.’ The cynical note in Grayson’s voice made me want to slap him. Not that I’m an advocate for violence of any sort but it riled me that he was suggesting my sister was a gold-digger. He had only just met her. How could he make such a snap assessment of her?

I swung around to face Grayson with a glare so hot I could have moonlighted as a welding machine. ‘How dare you?’

Grayson’s eyes glittered with the same cynicism I’d heard in his voice. A worldly cynicism that made me feel wrong-footed somehow, which was weird because if there was an award for being a hard-nosed cynic it would surely go to me.

‘Come with me,’ he said, jerking his head in the direction of the exit. ‘I want to speak to you in private.’