Wedding Night

magazine.” He nods. “Well, then, you’ll know.”
    The two of us are making a connection again. I don’t know if this is a mistake or not, but somehow I can’t help it. It’s such a relief to have someone to talk to who isn’t my boss or my staff or my child or my ex-husband or my loopy little sister. He doesn’t
need
anything from me. That’s the difference. He’s just sitting there, composed, as though he doesn’t give a fuck.
    “I read online you developed Papermaker,” I say. “That was you?”
    “My brainchild.” He shrugs. “Others more talented than me design the stuff.”
    “I like Papermaker,” I allow. “Nice cards. Expensive.”
    “But you still buy them.” He gives me a tiny grin.
    “For now,” I retaliate. “Till I find another brand.”
    “Touché.” He winces and I give him a sidelong look. Maybe that was a bit harsh.
    “Are you actually in trouble?” Even as I ask, I know it’s an inane question. Everyone’s in trouble right now. “I mean,
real
trouble?”
    “We’re at a junction.” He exhales. “It’s a tricky time. Ben’s dad died with no warning, and we’ve been treading water ever since. We need to make a few brave decisions.” He hesitates. “The right brave decisions.”
    “Ah.” I consider this. “Do you mean Ben has to make the right brave decisions?”
    “You catch on quickly.”
    “And is he likely to? You can tell me. I won’t let on.” I pause, wondering whether to be tactful or not. “Are you about to go bust?”
    “No.” He reacts so hotly, I know I’ve hit a nerve. “We are
not
about to go bust. We’re profitable. We can be more profitable. We have the brand names, the resources, a very loyal workforce.…” He sounds as though he’s trying to convince some imaginary audience. “But it’s hard. We held off a bid for the company last year.”
    “Wouldn’t that be a solution?”
    “Ben’s father would turn in his grave,” says Lorcan shortly. “It was from Yuri Zhernakov.”
    I raise my eyebrows. “Wow.” Yuri Zhernakov is one of those guys who appear in the paper every other day with words like “billionaire” and “oligarch” attached to their names.
    “He saw the house on TV and his wife fell in love with it,” Lorcan says drily. “They wanted to live there for a few weeks every year.”
    “Well, that could be good, couldn’t it?” I say. “Sell up while there’s some cash on offer?”
    There’s silence. Lorcan is glowering at the screen saver on his laptop, which I notice is a Papermaker design that I’ve bought myself.
    “Maybe Ben will sell,” he says at last. “But to
anyone
but Zhernakov.”
    “What’s wrong with Zhernakov?” I challenge him, laughing. “Are you a snob?”
    “No, I’m not a snob!” retorts Lorcan forcefully. “But Icare about the company. A guy like Zhernakov isn’t interested in some two-bit paper company spoiling his view. He’d close down half the company, relocate the rest, ruin the community. If Ben ever spent any time up there, he’d realize—” He stops himself and exhales. “Besides which, the offer’s wrong.”
    “What does Ben think?”
    “Ben …” Lorcan takes a gulp of his mineral water. “Unfortunately, Ben’s pretty naïve. He doesn’t have the business instinct of his father but he thinks he does. Which is dangerous.”
    I glance at his briefcase. “So you want to get out there and persuade Ben to sign all the restructuring contracts before he can change his mind.”
    Lorcan is silent for a while, drumming his fingers lightly together.
    “I want him to start taking responsibility for his inheritance,” he says at last. “He doesn’t realize how lucky he is.”
    I take a few sips of champagne. Some of this makes sense to me and some of it really doesn’t.
    “Why does it matter so much to you?” I say at last. “It’s not
your
company.”
    Lorcan blinks, and I sense I’ve touched a nerve again, although he’s careful to hide it.
    “Ben’s dad was an amazing guy,” he says at length. “I just want to make things work out the way he would have wanted. And they can,” he adds with sudden vigor. “Ben’s creative. He’s smart. He could be a great leader, but he needs to stop dicking around and offending people.”
    I’m tempted to ask exactly how Ben has offended people, but I can’t quite bring myself to be that nosy.
    “You were a lawyer in London, weren’t you?” My thoughts head off in a new direction.
    “Freshfields