Part 30 (2/2)

Cursing, Kahu shoved his chair back and got up. The work he was doing, going over the club's accounts, could wait. And he probably needed a break anyway.

In the corridor outside his office, he could hear the sounds of conversation from the Ivy Room, the club's main bar and dining area. Friday night and the place was packed with members having a post-work drink or seven.

The sound of success. Anita would have been so proud.

Yeah, but not so proud of the fact you're planning on ditching it, huh?

No, probably not. She'd left him the club thirteen years ago, when she'd first realized she was getting sick. A gift he'd promptly thrown back in her face by f.u.c.king off overseas, refusing to accept the responsibility or the reality of her illness. It had taken him five years to come to terms with it. To come back to New Zealand, to take on the club, and most importantly, to care for her. The lover who'd rescued him from the streets and given him the stars.

On the other hand, Anita was six months dead and what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

As he approached the club's entrance-a vaulted hallway with stairs leading to the upper floors, a parquet floor, and a chandelier dominating the s.p.a.ce like a ma.s.sive, glittering sun-people greeted him. Since he granted all members.h.i.+ps to the club personally, he knew everyone. Some more than others, of course, but he prided himself on the fact that he knew everyone's names at least.

He ostentatiously kissed the hand of a politician's wife, slapped the back of a well-known actor, air-kissed with a socialite and shook hands with an awestruck n.o.body. But then that's what the Auckland Club was like. n.o.bodies and somebodies, all mixing together. It appealed to his sense of irony. And, f.u.c.k, it was a nice distraction if nothing else.

Kahu pushed open the big blue door that was the club's famous entrance and stood in the doorway, looking down the stairs to the sidewalk. There were no lines of people waiting to get into the club since it was members only, but tonight a lone figure sat on the bottom step, her back to him.

It was mid-winter and cold, his breath like a dragon's, a white cloud in the night.

Not as cold as London, though.

A random memory drifted through his head, of the European ”cultural” trip with Anita. Of being in London in February during a snowstorm, and she'd tried to insist on going to some kind of cla.s.sical music concert at Covent Garden. He'd seduced her in their fancy Claridges hotel room instead and they'd spent the rest of the evening in bed, away from the storm and the cold...

Kahu let out another cloudy breath, trying to shake the memories away.

He'd grieved when Anita had died. But the woman in that chair in the rest home wasn't the Anita he'd known and loved. That woman had died a long time ago.

The person sitting down on the bottom step suddenly turned and his drifting thoughts scattered. A pale, pointed face and eyes an indeterminate color between green and gray looked back at him. A familiar face.

Lily.

He knew her, of course. Had known her since she was about five years old, her father Rob being a close friend of Anita's, and who'd managed the club while Kahu had been sulking overseas. Who'd become a valued business partner since.

A quiet, watchful girl who stayed out of the way and did what she was told, if he remembered right. He hadn't seen her for five years, though, and clearly things had changed. Namely that she didn't do as she was told anymore.

Lily stood and turned around. She was wearing a black duffel coat, the hood pulled up against the cold, and dark skinny jeans, a pair of Chuck Taylors covered with Union Jacks on her feet. And a very determined look on her face.

”Lily Andrews, as I live and breathe,” Kahu said lazily, standing in the doorway of his club and crossing his arms. ”Does your father know you've been sitting on the steps of my club for the past three nights straight?”

Her hands pushed into the pockets of her coat, brows the color of bright flames descending into a frown. ”If you'd spoken to me earlier it wouldn't have been three nights.”

”I have a phone. Though perhaps young people these days don't use such outdated technology.”

”What I want to ask you is better done in person.”

”That sounds portentous. Come on then, don't keep me in suspense. What do you want?”

She didn't speak immediately, her mouth tightening, her eyes narrowing. As if she was steeling herself for something.

Jesus, whatever it was it had better be good. He had s.h.i.+t to do.

After a brief, silent moment, Lily walked up the steps, coming to stand in front of him. The light coming from the club's doorway shone directly on her face. She wore no makeup, her skin white, almost translucent and gleaming with freckles like little specks of gold. She looked sixteen if she was a day.

”Can I come in? I don't want to ask you out here.”

”What, into the club? Sorry, love, but it's members only.”

She s.h.i.+fted restlessly on her feet. ”So can I be a member then?”

”Are you kidding? You think I just hand out members.h.i.+p to any fool that comes to my door?”

Her forehead creased into a scowl. ”I'm not a fool.”

”If you're not a fool, then you'll understand that there's a reason it's taken me three days to speak to you.”

”I just want to ask you a question. Nothing else.”

”Then send me an e-mail or a text like any normal teenager. Now, if you don't mind, I have a few things I-”

”I'm not a teenager, for Christ's sake. And what I want to talk to you about is...personal.”

Kahu leaned against the doorframe, eyeing her. ”If it's personal then why aren't you talking to your dad or a friend or whatever? You hardly know me.”

Rob had been Anita's lawyer as well as her friend. Kahu had met him in the context of dinners, where Anita had brought Kahu along and he'd sat there silently at the table while she and Rob talked, unable to join in because he didn't know what the f.u.c.k they were talking about-the dumb, uneducated Maori kid from the streets.

Sometimes at those dinners Lily had been there, a small seven-year-old with big eyes, whom he'd ignored mainly because she was a child and he had nothing to say to a privileged white kid from Remuera, born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

Then, after he'd come back from overseas and had reconnected with Rob over the management of the Auckland Club, he'd sometimes see her as he talked business with her father. A slender teen with a sulky mouth, who appeared to lurk permanently in the hallway whenever he arrived or left, big gray-green eyes following him when she thought he wouldn't notice.

She'd grown up a bit since then, the rounded features of adolescence morphing into the more defined lines of adulthood. But that mouth of hers was still sulky and she was still small and slender. And her eyes were still wide and big as they met his.

”Yeah, I realize that. But...” She s.h.i.+fted again, nervous. ”What I want to ask concerns you in particular.”

He raised an eyebrow. ”Me, huh? Well, spit it out then.”

A crowd of people came up the steps behind her, laughing and talking. Kahu moved out of the way as they approached the door, greeting them all by name and holding out his arm to usher them inside.

Once they'd all gone in, he turned back to Lily, who remained standing there with her hands in the pockets of her coat, glaring at him almost accusingly.

He could not, for the life of him, work out what her problem was, but one thing was for sure: he was getting b.l.o.o.d.y sick of standing there while she continued to dance around the subject.

”Okay,” he said, glancing at his watch. ”You've got ten seconds. If you haven't told me what you're doing here by then, I'm going to go inside and ring your father, and ask him to come and get you.”

”All right, Jesus,” Lily muttered. ”You don't have to be such a d.i.c.k about it.”

Kahu refrained from rolling his eyes. ”Ten, nine, eight, seven...”

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