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Confusion swept through me. Who on earth were they from? I didn’t have any exes who pined for me, and never went anywhere enough to have gained an admirer. A shudder cascaded down my spine as I flipped the card over, looking for a name. Nothing.
‘All okay, Miss?’ Muhammed asked, frowning with concern.
‘Yeah,’ I said, plastering a smile on my mouth, ‘Of course. Thanks for grabbing these for me.’
‘My pleasure.’
When I got back into the apartment, Lara’s eyes were like saucers.
‘Fuck, babe, what a bunch! Must have cost a bomb. Who are they from?’
‘I don’t know, it didn’t say.’ I handed over the card and watched as Lara read it. ‘I’ve no idea who could have sent them.’
‘You haven’t given your address to anyone on the site, have you? Or your number or anything?’ Lara asked.
‘No, not even my socials. I keep it all off there.’
Lara tapped the card against her hand as she bit her lip in thought. ‘Call the florist. They might know who it was.
I tried. But they were of no use either. It was an online order paid using a paypal address which they couldn’t hand out for GDPR purposes.
‘Maybe it’s someone you know fucking with you. What about your bitch cousin?’ Lara pinned the card to the fridge with a magnet before eyeing the flowers. ‘Shall we bin them?’
‘No, I’ll drop them down to Mrs Haggerty. She doesn’t get many visitors and I think they’d cheer her right up.’ I didn’t want them in the flat. Could the flowers be from someone in my family? They weren’t my mum’s sort of idea at all. And my cousins weren’t usually the type to fuck with me, and certainly didn’t miss me for it to be genuine.
Whoever they were from, they were the reminder I needed to not let my guard slip online. No matter whether it was a sinfully hot older man with an absolutely filthy mouth or not.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LOGAN
‘Dude, you suck today.’ My brother, Ewen, punched me lightly on the arm as he passed, picking up his golf club and nudging me out of the way of the tee.
‘All okay?’ Mac asked.
‘Fine,’ I grumbled as I pressed my club into my caddy’s hand and ran my fingers through my damp hair.
I didn’t enjoy golf at the best of times, and neither did my brothers, from what I could tell. Yet we often bashed balls about the course nearest our home. Ewen and I’s home. Mac had fallen in love a few months prior and buggered off to live with his girlfriend, Katie, in her house. With my younger two sisters married and settled, it just left Ewen and me rattling around the mansion with the staff.
‘I’m getting soaked through with this pissy rain. Can we call it quits already?’ I slid my ass into the golf cart and folded my arms over my chest.
‘You just want to quit because you’re losing to me,’ Ewen said with a shit-eating grin.
‘I couldn’t give a hairy shite who’s winning. I don’t even like golf.’
‘Yeah, you do. It’s why we play.’ Mac frowned as he walked over to the cart and climbed in.
‘No, I don’t. It’s boring as all hell.’
‘So why are we here?’ Mac asked.
‘Dad liked it. I played with him as it was the only time he’d drop out of his syndicate king persona and be a normal human.’ I’d hoped that golfing would make me feel closer to him after the loss, but it just left me feeling more lost and empty than I had before.
‘If you don’t like it, then fuck this shit,’ Ewen said, passing his club back to his caddy before hopping in beside us. ‘Let’s get back to the clubhouse and hit the sauna.’
The rain picked up as I whipped the little cart through the course and toward the swanky resort building where we held lifetime memberships. Golf aside, it was a pretty sweet place to hang out. It had a five-star restaurant, multiple bars, a swimming pool and sauna, and top tier masseuses. There were also plenty of other people like us there. People who had money, or fame, or dodgy backgrounds. A place where no-one batted an eye at where your wealth came from as long as you were tipping with fifties. In my twenties, it had been a regular place to pick up women, and the occasional guy, for a night of fun. When my eldest brother died and the torch as the eldest son had passed to me, I’d had no choice but to step up and be the man my father needed me to be. No time left for playing. It was all about pulling up my bootstraps and becoming a fitting heir for my father. I’d expected to have years to figure out how to be like him, but his life had been cut short, too.
Then it was all on me.
