*****
I stepped into the apartment, loathing the way it automatically made my body feel protected and warm. I contemplated burning it down so I wouldn’t have to feel that deceptive ease again.
I trudged up the staircase and went directly to the second room where his office was. I opened the door and stepped inside, and was immediately assaulted by the smell of him lingering in the air. I ignored the way my heart beat harder in my chest and the dam in need of bursting behind my eyes.
It was time I turned those emotions off. That was the only way I could cope.
I looked around the room. He had a thick and sturdy jarrah wood desk with a green shade lamp and an assortment of business papers neatly stacked on one corner. Rustic looking bookcases adorned the walls, filled with heavy textbooks that looked ancient, collecting dust.
I tapped the spines of bookcases, hoping to hear a hollow sound. I’d seen fake book storages once before in a crime documentary years ago. And with all the revelations that had come to light about Ben, I understood him to be a secretive man, and this was the kind of thing a secretive person might do. It was a long shot, I knew that.
When I didn’t hear anything, I went to his desk, opened drawers, and leafed through the papers on his desk. All to no avail.
If he’s a damn good master at secrecy, he won’t be hiding shit in his apartment, dumbass.
Yeah, well, it was worth a shot. Hardman probably would have asked me to do this and –
“Ben’s not fond of snoopers.”
I jumped and turned around, instantly feeling so fucking stupid for not checking to see if Jamie was around.
Because he was, and he’d just caught me red fucking handed.
Wearing jeans and the same black leather jacket, he was leaning against the doorway, hands in his pockets. Staring at me with those sizzling blue eyes, I didn’t feel the threat of what I’d just done lurking in their depths. He looked surprisingly relaxed and maybe even… amused?
“Hi,” I stammered out, fidgeting as I shut the desk drawer and crossed my arms. “I was um…”
He waited a beat and smirked. “You were um, what?”
Too anxious to respond, I just stared stupidly at him.
“What is it that you’re looking for exactly?” he asked, before adding swiftly, “And don’t lie to me either. Us Costigans are very good discerners. So tell the truth, darling.”
Tell the truth? How was I meant to do that to Ben’s brother? I thought quickly for a moment, wondering if I could somehow merge the truth by omitting the truth at the same time. Totally fucked up idea, but I was running on borrowed time.
“Trying to get to know your brother,” I said to him.
“You’ve been inseparable for a few months now, what could you possibly want to know?”
“He’s… reserved. I always feel like he’s holding back around me. Getting him to tell me anything too personal is impossible.”
“And you thought you’d find it in the drawers of his office room that he hardly frequents?”
Well, fuck, this guy was cracking down on me like it was sport to him.
“Well, I’ll have you know he gave me his key here,” I replied edgily. “I doubt he cares if I have a look around. That’s what girlfriends do. Besides, where else was I supposed to start in getting to know him?”
Jamie’s smirk intensified, and he gave me a look that made me feel stupid. “How about his brother for one?”
“Are you more open than him?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, skimming me up and down. “I’m very open, Claire. Whatever you want, I’m more than happy to give.”
I raised a brow at his flirtatious remark. What a peculiar man. Was he just as bad as Ben? I reflected on his words to Ben, about wanting to take over his role. Ben’s refusal had really irked him. But was it enough to resent him?
“So what would you like to know?”
When he pushed off the doorway and walked into the room, I felt nervous and caged in. He was a lot broader and fuller than Ben, and that arrogance was impossible to miss. He had troublemaker written all over him, and I couldn’t help but think his calm and steady composure was a façade. I was quite certain he’d make a move on me if he thought he could get away with it.
His question prompted all of my own I’d had of Ben, and it wasn’t hard finding one to ask straightaway.
“Why doesn’t he drive?” I asked.
“You’re asking the wrong thing first,” he replied, tapping his fingers against the spines of books the way I had. God, had he been there the entire time watching me?
I frowned. “What am I meant to ask first?”
“The next question is meant to be your first.”
Confused, I said, “The next one is about your parents.”
He smiled and eyed me roguishly. “Precisely.”
What the fuck?
“Did he tell you how they went?” he then said.
“Car accident.”
“Wrong. Well, sort of. Car bomb is more accurate.”
My brows shot up. “What?”
“My father had enemies, even those closest to him were conspiring against him.” He eyed me warily now, cocking his head to the side. His double meaning was not lost to me.
“Did it happen here?”
“No. It happened abroad many, many years ago. We went on a holiday. It was their wedding anniversary we were celebrating. They went out for the evening one night, had invited Ben to join them for dinner as I wasn’t feeling well. He declined, and moments later… BOOM.”
He let me soak that in for a minute, and once again I tried to keep my emotions disconnected from me. I knew if I opened the floodgates just a tad, I’d be pitying him. The guilt he’d have carried for choosing to stay behind would have been unbearable.
“He’s been thoroughly counselled about it,” Jamie reassured me. “It doesn’t bother him on an emotional level anymore. But it’s left him a little paranoid.”
“Does he have a reason to be paranoid?”
He shrugged absently. “I suppose, if we’re going to take into consideration he pisses anybody off.”
“And has he pissed anyone off?”
“No. Up until you, he’d been very disciplined and focused.”
“And why has that changed with me?”
“Because you mean something to him.”