Chapter 9 - The Man She Couldn’t Read

Arabella left her father’s house with more questions than she had brought with her.

The morning air felt sharp against her skin, but it did little to clear her thoughts. Richard had confirmed that the old records were unreliable. He had admitted that the waterfront project had collapsed amid suspicious transactions. Yet he still seemed more afraid of what she might discover than of what had already happened to Montgomery Holdings.

And he had told her not to show the document to Adrian.

Naturally, Adrian was the first person she thought of.

She slid into the back seat of her car and took out her phone. His number sat in her recent calls, a reminder of their last conversation and the way he had looked at her as though he could see every question she was trying to hide.

She could call him. She could demand an explanation for why he had been so certain the past mattered.

Instead, she locked her phone.

She would not let either man decide what she should know.

By the time she reached Montgomery Holdings, she had made up her mind to return to work and act as if nothing had changed. It lasted until she stepped into the lobby and saw Adrian standing near the reception desk.

He was speaking to the receptionist, one hand tucked into the pocket of his charcoal trousers. His dark suit fit him with irritating precision. When he noticed Arabella, he ended the conversation with a brief nod.

“Montgomery,” he said.

“Knight.”

His gaze travelled over her face. “You look tired.”

“How observant. Do you charge extra for stating the obvious?”

“Only when the client is difficult.”

“Then I’m sure you’re making a fortune.”

A faint shift touched his mouth. It was not quite a smile, but it came close enough to annoy her that she noticed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I had a meeting with your finance director.”

“About the company?”

“Unless you’ve developed a sudden interest in my social calendar.”

“I would need a better social calendar before I could be disappointed by yours.”

This time, he almost smiled. “You’re in a mood.”

“I’ve had a long morning.”

“Family trouble?”

Her expression hardened. “You ask a lot of personal questions for someone who claims to be here on business.”

“And you avoid them with impressive consistency.”

“Perhaps I’ve had practice dealing with men who mistake curiosity for entitlement.”

Something changed in his face. The teasing eased, leaving a sharper attention behind.

“Did you speak to your father?” he asked.

Arabella’s fingers tightened around the strap of her handbag. “Why would you assume that?”

“Because I told you to ask him about the waterfront project. You’re standing here looking as though the answer made things worse.”

She hated that he had read her so easily. “My father says the records were unreliable. He says transactions were questioned and the project collapsed before either family could establish what happened.”

Adrian’s expression became unreadable. “That sounds familiar.”

“So you’ve heard the same story.”

“I’ve heard several versions of it. None explains why the same financial references may be appearing again.”

Her heart gave a small, unwelcome leap. “You know about the references?”

“I know there are questions surrounding the old accounts. I haven’t seen your document, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

She had not meant to reveal that there was a document at all. Now she watched him carefully, searching for the satisfaction of a man who had finally drawn out a secret.

He gave her none.

“Why didn’t you tell me more when we first spoke?” she asked.

“Would you have believed me?”

“That depends. Were you planning to tell the truth?”

“I was planning to tell you what I could prove.”

“And the rest?”

“The rest is why I’m still investigating.”

For once, she had no immediate answer.

A staff member emerged from the corridor and called Adrian’s name, explaining that the finance director was ready for him. Adrian acknowledged him but kept his eyes on Arabella for another moment.

“You should be careful who you trust,” he said.

She let out a short laugh. “You really do enjoy that line.”

“I’m not asking you to trust me.”

“Good. We agree on something.”

“But if you find something that connects the current accounts to the old project, don’t let your pride stop you from examining it.”

“And if you find something, don’t assume you can order me around.”

“I wouldn’t waste my time.”

“Excellent.”

He stepped aside to let her pass, but as she moved by him, she caught the clean scent of his cologne. It was an absurd detail to notice in the middle of a conversation that had left her unsettled. More absurd still was the brief awareness of how close he stood.

She hated that too.

“Arabella,” he said behind her.

She turned.

“Whatever your father told you, I don’t believe the Montgomery family’s version is the whole story.”

“And you think yours is?”

“No.” His voice was quieter now. “That’s the problem.”

For a moment, the space between them seemed to hold something neither was willing to name. Then Adrian’s expression closed, and he turned towards the corridor.

Arabella watched him go, annoyed by his secrets, his certainty, and the fact that some part of her wanted him to turn back.

Her phone vibrated inside her handbag. Sebastian’s name appeared on the screen.

She stared at it, then at the corridor where Adrian had disappeared.

For the first time, she wondered whether the hardest decision ahead of her would be deciding which man was telling the truth—or admitting that neither had earned her trust.