Everything You Are (15 page)

“No. Richardson is clean, Southern wasn't able to find anything that would implicate him. But he found something else.” The old man pushed a small, coin-sized device across the desk.

Ian grabbed it and turned it around. “Is this a microphone?”

“Yes. One of four that are in my office at the estate.”

“So that's how they were getting their information?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“How did Southern find them?”

“I invited him to the estate and he has a habit of always scanning for any surveillance devices when he holds a meeting. You know what this means?”

“That it must be somebody from the estate's staff. But most of them have been working for our family for generations.” Ian clenched his jaw. He put the microphone on the desk. It was one thing to have somebody trying to destroy Thornton Enterprises, but quite another to have that saboteur coming from the people closest to his family.

“I suspect you requested that Southern go through each one of the staff members' backgrounds?”

“Yes.”

Ian had been keeping himself on the sidelines of the investigation, working on calming the workers' fears and focusing on repairing the damage and problems caused by the rumours of off-shoring, while trying to work on current affairs between business trips. Luckily, after his father's interview in a well-known business magazine, the rumours of off-shoring had quieted down and the need for business trips to their factories decreased. The company was his father's baby; he loved it the same as he did his children, if not more, and Ian did have something more pressing on his mind, but his father's face looked tired, and wrinkles marred it more deeply than a month before. He should be more involved with the enquiry. “Next time you have a meeting with Southern, I would like to join you.”

A small leaf falling from the cherry tree twirled in the air and then fell on the white linen covering a table filled with plates of bite-sized cakes and small triangle sandwiches. Jane averted her gaze from the leaf she had been following and fixed it on Mrs. Cromwell, Ian's grandmother, who sat in the armchair to Jane’s right, while Mrs, Thornton, Ian's mother, occupied the chair on Jane's left side. Both women had been sticking close to her since they had walked out to the meadow behind the Thornton manor, where they had tea, with Mrs. Cromwell interrogating her about her parents, her education, her hobbies and her friends. Mrs. Cromwell's voice was soft and a small smile played on her face as she shot questions at her, but Jane had no trouble imagining the older lady in a dark room, with a beam of light fixed on her subject while her sharp voice demanded answers.

“Mother, stop it, this is not a job interview,” Mrs. Thornton said before she turned her attention to Jane. Her mouth stretched into a gentle smile. “You have to forgive Mother, she's inquisitive by nature and very protective.”

The older lady probably ordered a background check on me as soon as she heard that I'm going to have Ian's baby,
Jane thought.

Mrs. Thornton's hand covered Jane's. “You're living with Ian now, you can tell me: how is he? Is he eating well and taking good care of himself? He's not working all the time, is he?”

“Well, he's eating lunch regularly.” Or so she thought. “Shouldn’t you ask Ian that?” Jane's gaze trailed around the meadow to stop on the three men who stood a distance away, at the stone fence that overlooked the empty tennis court. When the women had arrived at the white, lacy garden furniture set under the cherry three, the men: Ian, Mr. Thornton and Andrew, Ian’s sister’s husband, had walked away from the table, looking as if they were in a serious debate.

“What are you two doing?” Izzy said. She was lying on a deckchair a step away from the table, a large straw hat obscuring her face. All three ladies had on straw hats and they had offered one to Jane, but she declined.

“Just chatting,” Mrs. Cromwell said.

“You never just chat.” Izzy straightened and faced them, while she pulled the edge of the large straw hat back, folding it. Her eyes landed on Jane. “Don't allow Ann to intimidate you. She might appear scary, but she has a soft heart.”

“Don't ruin my image.” Mrs. Cromwell smiled before her focus went to the three men. “Did those three come out to have tea or a business discussion?”

“They have been whispering among themselves all morning,” Izzy said. “If I had known that it would be like that, I would have stayed at home.”

“Don't be so hard on them,” Mrs. Thornton said. “The company has been through a rough patch this spring. If it wasn't one thing, it was another.”

Since Ian had been spending the majority of his time fixing problems, Jane had heard about the company’s troubles, but she had thought it was business as usual. A shadow fell over Jane and she glanced up and sideways to see Martha, the housekeeper. She served them their tea and then when Mrs. Thornton invited her to sit down with them she politely declined and instead positioned herself behind Mrs. Thornton, reminding Jane of a general overseeing a battle. Martha took the plate of cakes and offered them to Jane, who waved her hand in a no. “No, thank you.” Her stomach felt slightly irritated and she didn't want to upset it further by eating.

“I'll take one.” Izzy jumped out of the chair and, with a lightness in her step, joined them at the table. She wore jeans and a simple cotton T-shirt, the same as Jane. But while Izzy gave the impression she was on her way to the city, meeting friends on a Sunday afternoon, Jane looked as if she planned to go gardening. The only thing was missing were those dark-green rain boots. “They have been working on something, but what, Andrew refuses to tell me. But I'm certain Ann is aware what's going on.”

“I might be.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“No.”

Izzy scrutinised the older lady for a short moment before she turned to Jane. “What about you, Jane? Have you have any idea what they're planning?”

“No.” Jane shook her head. She looked past Izzy at the fence, where Ian listened to his father, with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and a frown on his face, while his eyes absently glanced around. They stopped on her. She lifted her hand in a wave.

A smile stretched Ian's mouth and he waved back. He said something to the two men before he started to stride toward the table.

“Why don't you ask Ian?” Jane proposed to Izzy. “Or your father?”

“You haven't been interested in the company before, what changed?” Mrs. Thornton asked Izzy.

“I'm not interested in the company, per se,” Izzy said. “I only want to know why they are occupying so much of Andrew's time. And why they are wasting their time with business talk when they should be here enjoying our company.”

“By now you should know that for your father business always takes precedence over pleasure.” Mrs. Cromwell's fingers took hold of the fragile handle of the blue vintage cup with a wavy edge. She took a sip of tea.

“And over children,” Izzy said.

“And wife,” Mrs. Thornton added.

“Oh, Jane, don't look so sad.” Izzy gave Jane a smile.

I wasn't looking sad
, Jane thought. She had only been remembering how many times her father had missed her school activities because of working overtime, and how when they were downsizing, the company he worked for hadn’t cared about all the overtime he had given them.

“Father never neglected us, but for him the company has always come first,” Izzy said.

“I'm sure that's not true,” Jane said.

Ian reached the table.

“I'm afraid it is.” Izzy took a sandwich.

“What's not true?” Ian came around the table.

“About the company being our father's first priority,” Izzy answered him.

Ian stopped beside Jane and his hand descended onto her shoulder. “It's true. The company is Father's pride and joy, but that doesn't mean he cares so much for it because he loves us less, but because we employ thousands of people. If the company does poorly, people get fired and their livelihoods are threatened.”

There was no way that somebody like Mr. Thornton, who had always lived in comfort, would care about his employees, was there? Jane's eyes found Mr. Thornton, who was slowly strolling toward them, talking with Andrew.

“Father once told me that when he was a teenager the company was in such bad shape because of his father's neglect that they had to fire more than two-thirds of the workers. The despair that he saw in those people's faces made him swear that he would take better care of the company than his father.”

“Which I did and I'm still doing,” said Mr. Thornton, who just reached the table. He sat down.

The housekeeper approached Mr. Thornton and poured him a cup of tea, which she set before him.

“Thank you,” Mr. Thornton said. “I would hate to see people getting fired. Or knowing that after I'm gone, there won’t be anyone who will care for the company and its people like I do.” His eyes lifted to Ian. “That's why I'm grateful to have such a competent son. You're the company's most valuable asset, which you proven over and over again these last few months. I have always been proud of your business sense, but lately you're exceeding all expectations.”

Jane glanced up at Ian, who stood beside her with his shoulders back, spine straight and his chest puffed out, while a small grin curled his mouth.

“Not only that.” Mr. Thornton fixed his gaze on Jane. “Ian expressed a desire to settle down, something that I thought I would never live to experience.” A small smile full of fondness flashed on his face. “And there's you, Jane. You can't imagine how much I'm looking forward to my first grandchild.”

Ian's fingers, the warmth of which she could feel over her thin shirt, gently squeezed her shoulder.

She looked up at him.

The smile that was reflected in Ian's ice-blue eyes was full of joy and affection.

Heaviness squeezed Jane's chest and the love she felt for Ian rose up and, like a lump, wedged in her throat. She swallowed and averted her gaze. The love she imagined seeing on his face was not real. It couldn't be. He liked her, yes, and he had kissed her, here and there, but all the kisses that he bestowed on her were short and platonic, the kind of kisses that were exchanged between good friends.

“You're going to get Jane all emotional,” Ian told his father.

“Emotional is a good thing.” Mrs. Thornton patted Jane's hand.

They were all so attentive, so nice. She would never have imagined that they would have accepted her with such welcome, an ordinary girl with no connections and no money. She said that to Mark, after she called him to report on the events of the day. She was lying on the bed in the guest room in Ian's part of the house. With the door open she had a view of the hallway and part of Ian's living room.

“I didn't expect anything less,” Mark said. “You're a great girl, and they’d better treat you like one.”

“Or what? You'll storm in here and kick their butts?” Jane rolled on her belly and shifted to the edge of the bed, so that she had a better view of the right side of the living room where the door that led to Ian's bedroom was.

“Something like that.” Mark chuckled, but when he spoke up again, his voice was serious, without even a hint of laughter. “How is the blond Viking thing going?”

“Fine.” She rose on her elbows and lifted her feet, crossing them at her ankles.

“You probably haven't even flashed your ass at him once, have you?”

Jane rolled her eyes and in a low voice said, “Ian's a breast man, not an ass man.”

“With the way he was eyeing your ass, he might be a breast man, but he's also very much a Jane's ass fan. Just try it, please. Just bend over in front of him, just once, and you'll see that I'm right.”

There was no way she would be bending over in front of Ian and flashing him her slightly too big butt. Maybe she could have flashed him... She glanced down at her chest and frowned. Nope, that was not an option. Maybe her shoulders. Yeah, her shoulders weren't that bad. “I can flash him my shoulder.”

“Great idea, just do it together with your ass.”

Jane groaned. “Sometimes I think you say things like that just to get me in trouble.”

“Where is he, anyway?”

“In his bedroom. He crossed the hallway fifteen minutes ago,” she told Mark and her voice became even lower when she continued, “You should have seen him. He was all sweaty, dressed only in sweatpants and with a towel around his neck.” His skin had glittered under the light and his blond hair stuck to his temples and forehead, and the smile he had given her... It made her heart flutter and it was good that she was already sitting on the bed, because her knees got all weak and jelly-like. “He was so delicious-looking.”

“Isn't he always?” Mark said.

“Yes.” But he was especially yummy after his workout, something that he did daily, every morning and sometimes even in the evening, usually when there was some problem at work, or so she had noticed.

The door of the bedroom opened and Ian walked out, this time he had on comfortable-looking slacks that hung low on his hips, and in his hands he had what appeared to be a T-shirt. He looked around the room.

Jane stared at him, at his chest, before her eyes side down his hard abdomen. Tension pooled in the pit of her stomach and spread through her body like waves of heat.

“Jane, are you there?” Mark asked.

“Yes. Listen, I have to go. We'll talk to each other later, okay?” She couldn't take her eyes away from the blond across the hallway.

“He's there isn't he?”

Ian unfolded the white shirt and put it on, the muscles of his back and arms bulging with his movement.

She nodded and then remembered that Mark couldn't see her. “Yes, he is.”

Ian turned toward the open door and the hallway. “Here you are.”

“Bye,” Mark said.

“Bye,” she replied and pulled herself up, on her knees. “Here I am. Is it already time for dinner?”

“No, not yet.” He walked to the door where he leaned his forearm on the door-jamb. “Was that Mark on the phone?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and gave her a small smile. “So...”

“So?”

“Why are you here and not there?” With his chin he pointed over his shoulder at the living room.

She shrugged.

He pushed himself away from the door and strode into her room, purpose in his step. “There's still two hours before dinner.”

“Ah.” She pushed herself backwards so that she sat on the bed.

He lowered himself onto the side of her bed. “We could watch a movie.”

A small chime came from the tablet on the nightstand. It heralded an incoming email.

She reached for it.

“Leave it.” Ian's fingers curled around her wrist. “Leave it,” he repeated in a soft voice.

“What if it's something urgent?” She slipped out of his hold, took the tablet and turned it on, then went to the inbox. “It's an email from Langton,” she told Ian. “He just confirmed the Sunday party.” A week earlier she had, with Mark's help, found a small club with dart boards and pool tables that served food and drinks, and after she took Ian there, he booked the place for next Sunday, for a rehearsal of his cousin's bachelor party, he said, which was just an excuse for a night on the town, she suspected.