CHAPTER SEVEN
REINCARNATION. KARMA. SINS coming home to roost.
Once upon a time, in the not-too-distant past, if anyone had asked me if I believed in any of those things I’d have rolled my eyes and told them to get real. That life worked on the amount of effort you put into each day.
On love.
Loyalty.
Hard work.
How wrong I was.
Frozen outside the towering glass and steel offices of one of the most powerful men on the globe, my wrists tingling from the phantom handcuffs that might become real before the hour was out, I wondered which deity I’d wronged to bring me to this end.
Did it even matter that the domino effect of sheer rotten luck mostly had nothing to do with me? Was it worth ranting that the sins of the father shouldn’t be visited upon the daughter?
No.
The awful truth was, while the majority of what happened to me in the past few years wasn’t my fault, this last, shocking misstep was one hundred percent mine.
Sure, I could prove that a collection of things had culminated in that one gigantic error, but the reality was inescapable. The buck, and the blame, stopped with me.
Time to own it, Sadie.
One more minute, I silently pleaded to whatever higher power held my fate in its cruel grip.
But, adding to every other misfortune unfolding in my life, my plea went unheeded.
The two sharply dressed security guards who’d been eyeing me with increasing wariness through the imposing glass frontage were heading my way. These days the whole world was on edge. I of all people should know that.
The economy had been partly responsible for decimating the family I once took for granted. The family currently hanging by a very fragile thread.
And dressed in threadbare clothes that were at least five seasons old, my troubled expression reflected in the polished glass, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was wrestled to the ground and arrested for trespassing. Or worse.
Disturbingly, that possibility gleamed palatably for a second, attesting to my true state of mind. Really? I’d rather be arrested than—
‘Excuse me, miss. Can I help you?’
I jumped, my hand flying to my throat to contain the heart beating itself into a frenzy. The burlier of the two guards had stepped through the revolving doors without my noticing and now stood a few feet away. Everything about him promised he could switch from courteous to menacing in a heartbeat.
Definitely time to own it, Sadie.
‘I...’ I stopped, moved my tongue to wet desert-dry lips. ‘I need to see Mr Xenakis. Is he in?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You’ll have to ask for him at the reception desk. Do you have an appointment?’
I nearly laughed. How could I make an appointment to confess what I’d done?
‘Um, no. But—’
‘I think you should leave now, miss.’ His tone indicated it wasn’t a suggestion.
‘Please! It’s a matter of life or death.’
He froze. ‘Whose life?’
I bit the inside of my lip, afraid I’d overexaggerated things a little. For all I knew, the man I’d wronged wouldn’t bat an eyelid at my actions. Truth was, I wouldn’t know until I confronted him.
‘I...I can’t tell you. But it’s urgent. And private. If you could just tell me if Mr Xenakis is in?’
For an interminable minute he simply watched me. Then he grasped my elbow. ‘Come with me, Miss...?’
I hesitated. Once I gave my name there’d be no going back. But what choice did I have? Either confess and plead my case or wait for the authorities to show up at my door. ‘Preston. Sadie Preston.’
With swift efficiency, I was ushered across the stunning atrium of Xenakis Aeronautics, through a series of nondescript doors that led to the bowels of the basement and into a room bearing all the hallmarks of an interrogation chamber.
Hysteria threatened. I suppressed it as the guard muttered a stern, ‘Stay here.’
The next twenty minutes were the longest of my life. In direct contrast to the speed with which my life flashed before my eyes after the enormity of what I’d done sank in.
The man who entered the room then was even more imposing, leaving me in no doubt that my request was being taken seriously. And not in a good way.
‘Miss Preston?’
At my hesitant nod, the tall, salt-and-pepper-haired man held the door open, his dark eyes assessing me even more thoroughly once I scrambled to my feet.
‘I’m Wendell, head of Mr Xenakis’s security team. This way,’ he said, in a voice that brooked no argument.
Dear God, either Neo Xenakis was super thorough about his interactions with the common man or he was paranoid about his security. Neither boded well.
Another series of incongruous underground hallways brought us to a steel-framed lift. Wendell accessed it with a sleek black key card. Once inside, he pressed another button.
The lift shot up, leaving my stomach and the last dregs of my courage on the basement floor. I wanted to throw myself at the lift doors, claw them open and jump out, consequences be damned. But my feet were paralysed with the unshakeable acceptance that I would only be postponing the inevitable.
Besides, I didn’t run from my responsibilities. Not like my father literally had when things got tough. Not like my mother was doing by burying her head in the sand and frivolously gambling away money we didn’t have. A habit that had veered scarily towards addiction in the last six months.
I stifled my anxiety as the lift slid to a smooth halt.
One problematic mountain at a time.
This particular one bore all the hallmarks of an Everest climb. One that might only see me to Base Camp before the worst happened.
Not a single member of the sharply dressed staff I’d spotted coming and going downstairs roamed this rarefied space, which boasted the kind of furnishings that graced the expensive designer magazines my mother had avidly subscribed to back when money had been no object for the Prestons. The kind that had always made me wonder if the pictures were staged or if people actually lived like that.
Evidently, they did.
The dove-grey carpeting looked exclusive and expensive, making me cringe as my scuffed, cheap shoes trod over it. Lighter shades of grey silk graced the walls, with stylish lampshades illuminating the space and the twin console tables