Page 137 of The Grand Duel

“But you’re the manager. Don’t you make the rules?”

He smirks and sits forward. I turn and reach for the tequila, pouring out two shots.

“Not still holding out on a visit from cop boy, are you? I’d hate to have to put a stop to it.”

I grin, making sure the shots are to the rim.

“Cop boy?” Lily asks from my side, her nose screwed up. “Why is everyone still calling him that?”

I pick the shots up and look at her, taking in her gorgeous face. “What?” I say with a smile. “He’s the guy I was with my second week here. Hasn’t been in since.” I roll my eyes but smile, not really caring at all.

“I know who you mean,” she tells me. “It’s just that he’s not a cop. He’s a lawyer. One of the best in the world, from what I’ve heard.”

I frown.

“What did you just say?” Christian mutters as my breath catches.

“Charlie, wasn’t it?” she asks, looking between us as she casually starts to make the order that’s come in. “Syd startedcalling him cop boy years ago and it stuck. I’m certain it’s the same guy.”

The blood drains from my face.

“Fuck,” Christian mutters beside me. “Are you messing?” Christian asks her. “Shoes?” he snaps at me.

I look at him wide-eyed. I shake my head. “Oh my god, I don’t…there’s no way.”

“Where did you get the card?”

The card.

The office.

I place the shots down as my hands start to shake, the contents spilling all over them.

Christian must stand, his hand on my back as he pushes me to walk forward and down the stairs to the staff lounge.

The second I’m through the door, I run my hands through my hair. “It’s him.” I say the words, my gut churning as it rolls. “What the hell, Christian. It was him.”

“It might not be.”

“It is.” I shake my head. “Charles Aldridge. Charlie.” A sharp pain jabs me in the chest. “He told me to call him Charlie. It’s him.”

I cover my mouth, Christian seeming just as rattled as I am.

He pulls out his phone.

I walk to his side, watching as he types Charles’s name into Google. The second his picture pops up on the screen, Christian’s body jars. But so does mine. Not because his reaction confirms that it’s the same man I was with in the room that night, but because the picture is of the two of us, at the charity event in Italy.

I’m sat next to him at the table, laughing as he smiles down at me. His eyes…

“Fucking hell, Lissie.”

I step back, the reality of the situation making my body shake. “What am I going to do? Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Do you think he’d have recognised you? You were wearing a blindfold.”

My heart drops.

Is that it?