Rule number one: you don’t mess with my family. David broke that rule. His first mistake. His only mistake, but it was a pretty big one. A massive testament to the absolute arsehole I should’ve always known he was, that lapse in judgement is something I will never repeat.
You
see, people who mess with my family – people who disrespect, steal from, cheat
on someone within our, admittedly very close-knit circle, they rarely come out
of that in one piece. Some have never come out of it, period, but David did.
Because I made sure of it. Yeah, the man who cheated on me, stole from me, had
some weird kind of assumption that he could get away with all that shit, well,
he was either extraordinarily brave, or blindingly stupid, and knowing what I
know now my money would always go on the latter and yet, he still got to walk
away. Intact. Not even a bruise. Thanks to me.
“Do
you regret it?” Ollie asks, perching his arse on the corner of my desk.
“Letting David off the hook so easily?”
“I
have my moments.” I look at my brother, throwing him a slight smile. “But I
think it was the right decision.”
“Yeah,”
Ollie sighs. “Not one everybody was happy with.”
I
sit back in my chair and rest my steepled fingers over my stomach. “By
everybody, you mean Dad.” Not a question. Of course he means Dad. Mikkel Nielsen.
Outrageously successful. Extremely powerful. A man you don’t make a habit of
crossing.
“He
likes to deal with things in his own way, Lena. You stopped him from doing
that.”
“David’s
an idiot, but I’m not sure he deserved the kind of punishment Dad would’ve
doled out, had he got his hands on him.”
“He
stole from this family.”
“He
stole from me.” My dignity, mainly. But also money that didn’t belong to
him, the main reason this family wanted to deal with him their way, not
mine. But when all was said and done, it was a couple of hundred pounds, a drop
in the ocean to the Nielsen family.
“From
us.” Ollie points out before sliding down from my desk, digging his
hands into his pockets as he walks over to the wall of glass that looks out
over the River Tyne, the Quayside, and – if you’re from this neck of the woods in
north-east England – the iconic Tyne Bridge from this contemporary,
purpose-built office block, erected by our family’s own construction company. The
company I run. “Anyway,” Ollie turns around and leans back against the glass, “if
it had been left up to me…”
“Yeah,
well, it wasn’t.” I spin my chair around so I’m looking at Ollie. “David fucked
up, big time. He lost his job, his home, the life we’d started to build
together. A good life. ” I shrug. “He fucked up.”
“Understatement.”
Ollie sighs and glances back over his shoulder. “We’ve got a meeting tonight.
Me and Dad.” He looks back at me. “At the High Grange Hotel.”
I
let out a low whistle and spin my chair back around. “Must be important
business.”
“Stefan
Novak.”
My
chair spins around again. “Novak? When did we start doing business with that
family?”
“This
isn’t business as such. Over the past few months we’ve noticed the Romanians’
presence growing, and now they’re starting to infiltrate our territory. We need
to have a quiet word, that’s all.”
I
arch a brow. “That’s all? Novak has links to known terrorists…”
“We’ve
known him a long time, Lena, and for the most part our families have respected
each other, and kept our distance because you’re right. We don’t get involved
with people like him, but he’s given us no choice now. We can’t just sit back
and let him take what isn’t his. We don’t do that, either.”
“You
should be careful. I’ve never trusted
him. Never trusted anyone who’s close to him.”
“He
needs to know there are rules. And he needs to know he’s breaking them.”
Children
of a Danish father and an American-English mother, me and Ollie, we were never
kept in the dark as to what kind of family we were being brought up in. The
things my father did. The kind of man he was. Alright, maybe in the beginning,
when we were just kids, our parents shielded us from it as much as they could, but
as we got older we became very aware that we were no ordinary family. We were
different. To the outside world, Mikkel Nielsen is nothing more than an
extremely successful businessman, but he’s so much more than that. Yes, he’s a
very wealthy man, a very powerful man. But he’s also a man many fear, like I
said, you don’t mess with my family. That has consequences, which is why David
was, quite literally, lucky to walk away.
“Did
he ever say thank you?” Ollie crosses his arms and takes another glance back
over his shoulder. He’s changing the subject, which is about par for the
course. I only get to know so much before the drawbridge is pulled up.
“Did
who ever say thank you?” I’m facing my desk again, checking through
another batch of emails.
“David.
Did he ever thank you, for saving his life?” Ollie finally pulls himself away
from the window and heads for the door.
“Saving
his life might be a bit of an exaggeration.”
“He’s
still breathing, isn’t he?”
I
narrow my eyes again as I look at Ollie, a slight smile on my face, which is
matched by him. We both know my ex-fiancé got off lightly. We also know he’ll
spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, which is less than he
deserves, but I’ll take it.
“Is
Jake around?” Ollie asks, grabbing his jacket from the chair by the door. “We
need him to drive us tonight.”
“He’s
on site, at the apartments in Netherly Bridge. I’ll text him.”
“Thanks.”
He reaches for the door handle, and then stops and turns back to look at me. “Oh,
I forgot to tell you, Mum’s on her way over.”
“Here?”
“Yep.
She’s missed you, Sis.”
He
throws me a wide grin before leaving my office, and I sit back and sigh
heavily, spinning my chair back around to look out at the view of the river. I
can see all the way over to the other side of the Tyne, to Gateshead and beyond.
A mixture of smart office suites, art galleries, music venues, bars,
restaurants and exclusive apartments surround us, we blend in here. This place,
the glass-fronted offices of Nielsen Construction, it’s exactly the kind of
front my father needs to run the kind of business he does in the shadows. The
kind I try to avoid getting mixed up in, but sometimes it’s hard to avoid. And
I’m not ignorant enough to think he doesn’t use this business, in some shape or
form, as a front, I just try to side-step all the shit I don’t need to know
about. But at the same time, I think I need to be a part of it, for my own
safety. But in terms of my involvement within the family business – the real
family business – well, Dad’s always tried to keep that to a minimum. We all
have our roles. I run the construction company from this ultra-modern,
riverside building. Mum’s the dutiful wife, and Ollie– well, he’s part of Dad’s
world. I was never really given that option. And sometimes that bothers me. As
soon as I finished university I was put front and centre of Nielsen Construction,
I was to be the face of the family company, and that was the only choice handed
to me. The only choice. And yeah, I could’ve walked away, looked for
something else, but I wanted to work with my family. I wanted to do some good,
because Nielsen Construction also heads up a vast range of charities here in
the north-east. What my father does behind the scenes, it has nothing to do
with that side of the business. The side the world sees. And it’s my job to
make sure the two stay entirely separate. But I know – of course I know – that
I’m only told what I need to hear. Need to know. And that unsettles me, more
than I care to admit.
I
swing my chair back around as my phone rings out, and I check to see who’s
calling. It’s Mum. And I contemplate rejecting it but that won’t keep her at
bay forever, so I sigh quietly, and reluctantly answer it.
“Hey,
Mum.”
“Lena,
sweetheart! I’m down in reception. I was just passing and thought I’d pop in
and take you to lunch.”
I
close my eyes and silently count to three before taking a deep breath. “Come on
up. I just need to finish a couple of things here and I’ll be done.”
I
fire off a quick reply to an email that can’t wait until after lunch for a
response, and then I get up and go over to the full-length mirror in the corner
of my office and check my reflection. I look okay. A bit tired, but that’s
because I’m still holding onto some of that residual anger caused by finding
out my ex-fiancé is actually a grade-A cheating son-of-a-bitch. It’s done fuck
all for my skin, and I’m sure it’s caused a few more fine lines to appear around
my eyes, and now I’m beginning to wonder if letting him walk free was such a
good idea, but I’m stopped from taking those dark thoughts any further by my
mother’s appearance. She doesn’t do knocking.
“Are
you all done?” she asks, setting her handbag down on a nearby chair. Sometimes
I think she honestly believes that I’m nothing more than a figurehead in this
company. That I do nothing more than pop in every day for a couple of hours
just to show my face.
“Yeah.
I’m all done.”
Mum
knows I’m not really a fan of these “girly” lunches, but she’s only doing it
because she wants to spend some time with me. Ollie’s right, she’s missed me,
and in reality I’ve missed her too, while I was giving way too much of my time
to a man who didn’t give a shit about me. Us. Yeah. I’m really starting to
double-down on those second thoughts now.
“That
colour really suits you, darling.”
“Hmm?
This?” I glance in the mirror again, at the russet-toned pant-suit I’m wearing,
teamed with an open-necked white shirt and high-heeled ankle boots, my long,
dark hair pulled back into a side-ponytail. “It was the first thing that fell
out of the wardrobe this morning that didn’t need ironing.”
My
mother lets out a disapproving cluck and comes over to me, tugging gently on
the lapels of my jacket before smoothing it down over my hips. “You’re lucky
you’ve inherited my ability to make anything look good.”
Tawnee
Nielsen. A woman who oozes glamour and power in equal measure, she’s a
remarkably beautiful woman, tall and elegant with shoulder-length, slightly
curled silver hair, high cheekbones and perfect skin, for a woman her age. An
ex-model, it was love at first sight for my father, or so he tells us. It could
just be another one of his stories, I don’t know, but the way he looks at Mum
whenever he tells us that particular story, it feels real. And if there’s one
thing I’m absolutely certain of it’s that my parents love each other with an
almost fierce intensity. They love their kids. To everyone looking in we’re
this perfect, successful, happy family but that’s because they don’t know the
truth. They have no idea of the reality: of the shit that goes on behind the
clever façade my father’s built up.
“When
was the last time you had a facial?” My mother takes a step back, folds her
arms, and cocks her head slightly. “You look tired.”
Yeah,
’cause I really needed that confidence booster. “I’m fine.”
“Are
you drinking?”
“I
have a couple of glasses of wine every now and again.” Every night, to be
accurate. And there were a few of those nights when glasses were swapped for
bottles, just after I found out what David had done, but that didn’t last. He
wasn’t worth the extra calories.
“Alcohol
is so bad for the skin.”
“Is
there a point to this? Only, I’m starting to feel a little self-conscious now.”
“I’ll
book you an appointment with Garth. He does the most incredible facials, I
swear he’s knocked ten years off me.”
I
turn back around to face the mirror, leaning in to take a closer look at my face
while Mum contacts her miracle-working beauty therapist. Do I really look that
bad? I thought I looked okay, to be honest. I mean, I’ve looked better, but
that was before the stress of making sure my father didn’t end the walking
abilities of my dip-shit of an ex-fiancé.
“Alright.
Let’s go.” My mother slides her phone into her no-doubt obscenely expensive
handbag and smiles at me. “I’ve booked us a table at Daphne’s.”
I
pull myself away from the mirror and grab my own, less expensive handbag. I
could easily afford the kind my mother leans more towards, but I don’t see the
point in spending money unnecessarily. “You’re pushing the boat out, aren’t
you?” And did she just say booked? Past tense? There was never any way I was
getting out of this lunch, was there?
“Well,
it’s a special occasion, isn’t it?” She throws me another smile, but this one
is tinged with something I can’t quite put my finger on. And now I’m beginning
to think there’s an ulterior motive to this lunch. Great! That’s almost always
a bad sign, in this family. “It’s been a while since you and I have been able
to spend time together like this.”
She’s
right. It has. So I return her smile and link my arm through hers, planting a
quick kiss on her perfectly made-up cheek. “Come on, then. Let’s get out of
here, I’m starving! I say we order the mezze sharing platter and a bottle of dry
white wine. How does that sound?”
My
mother squeezes my arm, and this time her smile is brighter. Wider. “It sounds
perfect.”
Two
Daphne’s is a pretty little Greek restaurant situated right on the Quayside, with a small outdoor terrace that overlooks the river. It’s a friendly, quaint, family-run restaurant, and we’ve been coming here for as long as I can remember. The food is always amazing, the atmosphere warm and friendly, and today is no exception. And even though it’s not quite summer yet, the weather’s been kind to us so far this week, so we’ve chosen to eat outside. The perfect place to people-watch.
“How
are things at home?” Mum asks.
I
tear off a piece of flatbread and dip it into some hummus. “Quiet.”
“It
must be quite strange, living alone, after being with someone for so long. The house
must feel rather empty.”
I
narrow my eyes and stare at my mother as I pop the hummus-laden piece of
flatbread into my mouth. “You’ll be asking if I miss him next.”
“Do
you? Miss him?”
I
pick up my wine and take a sip. “There isn’t a single thing I miss about him.
Not one single thing.” And that’s true. When the man you’re about to marry
sleeps with someone else – someone I, mercifully, didn’t know – it can render
them suddenly meaningless. And I know it isn’t that way for everybody, some
people can’t just switch those feelings off, no matter what that person’s done
to them, but for David it was safer, for him, that I felt the way I did. That I
let hate overtake any remaining remnants of love. Anything else could’ve been
disastrous. “And this conversation, is it leading somewhere?” Because I can
read my mother, like the proverbial book. And the way she’s just dipped her
gaze there, albeit briefly, that tells me all I need to know. “Okay. What’s
going on?”
Her
eyes lock on mine, and I sit back and take another sip of wine. Now I know why
she brought me here. Somewhere familiar. Somewhere I’m comfortable. Neutral
territory.
“Your
father and I, we think you should move back home, with us. Just for a little
while.”
I
wait a moment before I respond to that. Is she serious? “Why?”
She
drops her gaze again, because she knows this is a conversation she didn’t want
to have, it’s one Dad’s told her to have. I’m only too familiar with how
this shit works.
“You’ve
been through a lot over the past month, Lena.”
“I’m
single again, Mum, I’m not ill. I think I can just about cope with things.”
“Yes,
I know, but living alone, in that empty cottage…”
“I
lived alone in that empty cottage for four years before David arrived on the
scene.”
She
sighs, an exasperated one, I’m frustrating her, as I do quite a lot. I’ve never
accepted anything without a fight, and this just doesn’t feel right, what she’s
asking me to do. It’s an odd, out-of-the-blue request, and I’m not buying it.
“I
just don’t get why I need to move back home. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Lena,
please, can you just do as I ask, for once?”
Her
tone is quite sharp, and it takes me a little by surprise, causing me to sit
back in my seat and just stare at her. It’s unusual for Tawnee Nielsen to be
anything other than calm and in control, but this afternoon she’s showing signs
of deviating from that, and that’s what’s making me nervous. And then she sighs
again, and drops her head, and I watch as she takes a long, deep breath. Okay.
Something’s definitely going on, and I’d put money on me not liking it,
whatever it is.
“Alright.”
Mum raises her head, her eyes once more locking on mine, and she smiles. She’s
flicked that switch and brought calm and in control Tawnee back to the
forefront. “How about a compromise? Why don’t you come for dinner, Friday night?”
I
narrow my eyes again and open my mouth to say something, but then decide
against it. “Dinner?”
“Yes.
A family dinner. You could stay over, make a weekend of it, your father would
love to see you.”
“He
saw me two days ago.”
“Lena?
Please?”
It’s
my turn to sigh. “Okay.”
“You’ll
come? For the weekend?”
“Yes.”
If it means that much to her, but I still think there’s something going on. And
I still don’t think I’m going to like it. “Will Ollie be there?”
“He
will.”
I’m
not sure he knows about that yet, but he won’t be given much of an option to
say no, either. And it doesn’t really matter whether he’s there or not, but I’ve
a feeling I might need him for moral support.
“It’s
a weekend with your family, Lena, that’s all.”
Well,
I beg to differ on that score. There’s no such thing as “that’s all” with this
family, but this is another fight I’m not sure I stand a chance of winning. So
I might as well just give in and go for it. Besides, my mum’s a fabulous cook,
and a weekend of her homemade meals isn’t something to be sniffed at. She does
the best bacon sandwich I’ve ever tasted, in bread she makes herself. Beats the
hell out of my shop-bought, standard white loaf version.
“And
you never know, you might actually have some fun.”
Doubtful,
but I push my suspicions to one side and leave it there. Whatever’s going on,
I’ll find out soon enough.
Tearing
off another piece of flatbread I wrap it around a chunk of lamb that’s so
tender it almost falls apart between my fingers. I should be getting back to
work, really. I still have a ton of things to do, phone calls to make, and I
don’t particularly want to stay too late at the office tonight.
“What
have you got planned for this afternoon?” I ask my mother as I shovel up a
forkful of Greek salad.
“I’ve
still got a few things left to buy for the newly-decorated summer house, so
it’s a quick trip into town and then home to get your room ready for the
weekend.”
It’s
Tuesday. How long does it take to change the sheets and whip the vacuum round?
“I
should be getting back soon.”
“To
the office?” My mother arches a perfectly-threaded eyebrow, and I raise both of
mine.
“Yes.
To the office. I don’t just turn up there every day and pretend to know what I’m
doing while someone else does all the work. I actually have a job to do.”
She
crosses her legs and picks up her glass of wine, taking a small sip. “I don’t
know why you wanted to take on all that responsibility.”
I
do. I did it because I didn’t want to end up a privileged princess who did
nothing but shop for shoes and eat lunch with her mind-numbingly irritating
girlfriends, that wasn’t the life I wanted. I actually wanted to do
something. I wanted to be a part of something. I wanted the chance to show that
this family could actually do some good: give something back to a community
that welcomed us with open arms, that’s why Nielsen Construction concentrates
on building affordable homes for those who need them most. My idea. And some
might say that’s something I’ve done to try and ease my privileged guilt, and
that’s fine. People are allowed their opinions, but that isn’t what that is. It
isn’t. I can’t help the family I was born into, but I can try and use its
wealth and power to make a difference. I just have to try and ignore the
reality of what’s going on in the background. What my father and brother are
mixed up in. Their world is a very different, very dangerous one.
“You
should make more time for yourself,” Mum continues. “You have the power to
delegate, right?”
“Of
course. But I like to do things myself, my way. Sometimes it’s just easier.”
“You
get that from your father.”
“I
frown. “Get what?”
“The
need to be in control.”
And
she knows as well as I do that that’s a trait shared by the entire Nielsen
family.
“That’s
not always a bad thing.” I wipe my hands on a napkin and finish the last of my
wine. Just the one glass for me, like I said, I’ve still got work to do. “Okay.
I really do have to get back to the office now.” I stand up and lean over to
plant a quick kiss on my mother’s cheek. “Thank you for lunch. It was lovely.”
She
takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You’re welcome, my darling. I’ll see you
Friday?”
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