“Just shut up and get in,” Turner said as he climbed in the driver’s seat. Jarred climbed in the car and they were off, heading toward downtown where Turner’s office was located. Jarred leaned back on the seat and sipped his coffee, his head pounding behind his eyeballs. He enjoyed a good time and apparently had one of the best last night, even if he couldn’t remember it. Is it still a good time if you’re trying to numb out the pain? He shoved that thought aside.
“You can’t keep doing this, J,” Turner said after a few moments, his voice breaking the silence in the car. “You have to straighten yourself out. Go to work. Find a hobby. Something.”
Jarred grinned. “I have one.”
“Getting arse faced on a nightly basis is not a hobby.”
“It could be,” Jarred retorted, draining the rest of his coffee before placing the cup in the holder on the console. Hell, he’d made it a hobby over the last few years. He was known in the social scene, never turned away from a party and though his father hated the fact that his son was a loser in his eyes, at least his son hadn’t landed in jail yet.
“Come on Jarred,” Turner said as he pulled his car into the parking garage connected to the office building. “Surely there’s something you want to do with your life.”
“Oh, you mean like you?” Jarred asked with a harsh laugh. Turner had sold out for the working man’s life, a life Jarred couldn’t understand. “Forgive me if I don’t want to work my ass off for the middle man.”
“Sod off,” Turner muttered as he parked the car. “I keep your ass out of a sling. Remember that.”
Jarred grinned and climbed out of the car, following Turner into the lift that would lead them to Turner’s firm office. “And I pay you very well to do so.”
Turner let out a bark of laughter. “You pay me nothing. Your father pays my legal bills.”
Jarred shrugged. “Same thing.” After all, it was all to be his once the old man kicked the bucket. What he was going to do with it when that time came, he didn’t know.
The lift doors opened and a long legged blonde entered the lift, giving them both a once over before she turned around. Jarred took in her toned body encased in a suit appreciatively before looking over at Turner, nodding toward her. Turner’s head nearly fell off of his shoulders as he shook it vehemently, his eyes warning Jarred not to do what he already knew was coming. It was time for a bit of fun this morning. Jarred gave Turner a quick grin and tapped her on her shoulder, a cloud of expensive perfume filling his nostrils as she turned around. “Yes?” she asked, an amused smile on her face.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Jarred started out, “but my friend here, he needs to get laid and quick.”
Her eyes widened as she looked over at Turner, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here for the moment. “Is that right?”
“Desperate,” Jarred added, giving her a knowing look and nearly unable to contain his laughter. “You would be doing him a favor.”
“He’s not, don’t listen to him,” Turner finally forced out, coming out in a choked laugh. “He’s mentally unstable.”
“Unstable,” Jarred said. “But still able to get laid.”
The doors opened and she bailed out, her heels clicking hard on the polished wood floor as she hurried away. Jarred waited until the doors closed again before he burst into laughter, Turner socking him hard on the shoulder with his fist. “Please don’t try to do me any favors. Bloody hell, she will never speak to me again.”
“I think she was thinking about it until you threw out the whole mental instability piece,” Jarred answered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You do need to get laid Turner. That necktie has gotten too tight around your neck.”
“Bugger off,” he said as the doors opened again and he walked out, his fists balled at his sides.
“Payback’s a bitch,” Jarred reminded him as he followed his friend, winking at the receptionist as they entered Turner’s domain. “Come on Turner, I’m only trying to help.”
“Sit down, Jarred.”
Jarred sat down in one of the comfortable leather chairs in front of Turner’s large oak desk, resisting the urge to prop his feet up on it. He’d already pushed his friend enough and it wasn’t even ten in the morning. “What’s up? What’s so important?”
Turner rested his elbows on the desk, his expression suddenly serious. “It’s about your trust fund Jarred.”
Jarred groaned. “Don’t tell me that he wants to cut it back again. He’s already tried that route.” His father had attempted to cut the money in half a few months ago in an effort to rile him up and it had worked, just not in the way that he wanted it to happen. Instead, Jarred had racked up tabs all over London in his father’s name and as a result, Harrison Maloney had been driven so crazy by the amount of collectors wanting their money that he’d restored the amount without a word. Jarred had proven a point to him that day, one that he thought his father wouldn’t forget anytime soon.
“He’s cutting you off totally.”
Jarred’s grin slid from his face. “What did you say?”
Turner sighed, looking weary all of a sudden. “I’m sorry Jarred. He’s cutting the money at the end of the month. I’ve been instructed to drop the account effective immediately.”
Jarred rose from his chair, pushing it hard until it toppled over on the floor with a loud thud. The sound sliced through his pounding head but he didn’t care. “Cut me off?” Jarred was his son, his sole heir. “He can’t do that.”
“He already has,” Turner replied softly.
Jarred looked at him, panic and rage flowing in his blood. No way in hell he was going to let his father do this.
2
“No, no, no.”
Kinsley grabbed the letter off of her flat entrance door, her earlier good mood of her hellacious day ending now souring once more.“Ms. Wells,” it stated, the words on a neatly typed letterhead depicting the name of the building’s owners.“We are in the process of selling our flats and will disband the lease agreements at the end of the month. As a current occupant of one of our flats, we are giving you the first opportunity to purchase this one before it is listed. The current value of the flat is £450,000. The initial installment of £100,000 will be due at the end of the month to secure the impending purchase. As we start to prepare our flats for purchase, a building wide fumigation will take place at the end of the week. Please make other arrangements for two to three days. You will not be allowed back into the flat during this time. Please contact our real estate office with payment options and further details.”
She reread the letter again, panic welling in her throat. 450,000 pounds? That was an obscene amount of money for someone in her position. Tears clouded her eyes but she blinked them away, wrangling with the door to get it unlocked and walking inside the cool interior. She could not lose it right now, not where everyone could see at least.
After placing the groceries on the counter, she picked up the letter once more, hoping that she had been wrong in her first two reads. Nope. Everything was still there. Not only did she have to come up with 100,000 pounds in three weeks, she also had to vacate the place for a few days while they sprayed for bugs. Great. This was just great. She threw the letter on the counter and leaned against it, looking at the space she had leased for three years now. It was the perfect size for her, with one bedroom that overlooked a small walled garden and was close to the tube station, allowing her a quick way in and out to work each day. The neighborhood was quaint and quiet, where everyone waved to her as she walked down the street. She loved the flat and did not want to move. But it was so much more than just a flat. It showed her what she’d been able to do, without anyone’s help. She’d done this. All on her own. She’d built her world and now it was crumbling.