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Later, I realize I never doubted Marcus. I believed him at his word. He might be my business partner, but Noam was my…
What exactly was he if he’d been screwing me over for years?
“Why are you telling me this?”
I hate hate hate the expression of sympathy on Marcus’s face. Because that means he knows Noam has been screwing me. Who else knows? When did I become the laughingstock of the business world, the dirty little girl tucked into Noam Tate’s pocket?
I feel sick and wish for a big glass of wine at the same time.
“Because you deserve to know,” Marcus says. “I know you’re in deep with the family, but I think, now that he’s dead, this would be a great way to back away from them. Back far, far away. Because Preston Tate is worse than his father and I know he’s had his eye on you for a while.”
“I know all about Preston. And I already have backed away. At least I’m trying to.”
“Good. Don’t take this the wrong way—I think you’ve got fantastic business know-how, but it’s easy to get caught up in relationships. Loyalty. I should know, I’d do anything for Coulter, but at least he’s a good guy. Noam Tate…”
“Is not,” I finish. “That’s what he’s been doing. He saw me as an easy mark. All these years…”
“There’s nothing easy about you, Cady. But I think he was taking advantage of your relationship more than anything.”
It all makes sense. The properties out of nowhere that he insisted I buy, the random few he took an interest in.
Those are the ones I’ve run into when the communities suddenly have issues with the type of club being in their area.
Was he behind that, too?
“Hey, hey, hey.” A sing-song voice calls behind Marcus and he turns. A curvy blonde with a big smile approaches us. “What are the two of you doing cuddling in the corner? If I hadn’t rocked his socks just before this thing began, I might be worried you’re into stealing my man.”
“No need to worry.” Marcus reaches for her. “Babe, this is Cady—investor in the club and date of Max. Cady Quinn, Callie Champlain”
“You should have mentioned the date of Max first,” she says, studying me carefully. “Because you promised no business this weekend.”
“This isn’t business,” Marcus lies smoothly. And maybe it isn’t for him. But what he told me just rocked my foundation and I don’t like being rocked.
Not unless it’s someone rocking my socks.
I extend my hand. “Nice to meet you. Congratulations on… everything.”
“Thanks.” She looks at me quizzically. “You okay?”
“Fine, thanks. Just—”
“What did he say to upset you? Did he do the whole if you hurt my boy Max…”
I manage a smile, but it’s not easy. “It’s nothing like that.”
“I don’t believe you, so let’s find you a big drink and then you’ll tell me. You know,” she muses as she slips out of Marcus’s grasp to take my hand, “you seem really familiar. It’s like I know you.”
“Maybe at the club—”
“No, it’s—” —she studies me intently— “—it’s the hair… Wait.” She snaps her fingers and spins around. “Malcolm!” she calls.
Malcolm. “My Malcolm?” I demand.
“I think he might be Nia’s Malcolm now, but you two can talk about sharing. “Hey,” she says as Malcolm, my Malcolm, my neighbour and friend walks toward us, eyes widening with surprise.
“Cady, what the hell?” Laughing, he pulls me into an embrace. “What are you doing here?”
“I came with Max Steele. This is Callie from the book club?”
