King of Hearts
Page 57
As I struggled my way past the crowd, I heard lots of chatter but couldn’t make out enough details. In the end I tugged a youngish guy holding a camera aside and asked him what the deal was.
“Do you work here?” he asked excitedly.
“Yeah, but I’m only an assistant. What’s with all the journos?”
His excitement seemed to deflate when he heard I wasn’t anybody important. “One of the directors at the bank has been accused of illegal insider trading. It’s all over the papers,” he said, and nodded to the stack I held under my arm. My heart almost stopped beating, and I walked past him in a daze. As soon as I’d scanned my ID and made it by reception, I found a bench and set the papers down. There on the front page of the very first one was all I needed to know.
It showed a picture of King, which looked to be taken at some function a couple of months ago. He wore a suit and an aloof expression while the photo was being captured. The slant to his mouth made him seem cruel and uncaring, which I thought was probably the intention. The article read:
Oliver King, head managing director at Johnson-Pearse Bank, has been accused of insider trading after an investigation into the financial institution’s public and private accounts. The claims were brought forward by an ex-employee of the bank, who wishes to remain anonymous. This individual is said to have left their job after discovering the unethical practices of the managing director. Mr King is the son of classical pianist Elaine King, who left the public eye over a decade ago after a long and successful career on the international stage….
And on the article went. I felt like I was going to throw up as I comprehended what was happening. I was on autopilot when I left the newspapers sitting there and hurried for the elevator. There were a number of other people inside, but I barely noticed them as I hit the button for my floor. Moments later, the door pinged open and I was out, almost running as I made my way to King’s office. I saw Gillian first. She sat at her desk, her expression as pale as a ghost, and I knew she’d heard the news.
“Where is he?” I asked, breathless.
Her worried eyes came to mine before she nodded to the closed door of King’s office. It was a rare moment that Gillian was lost for words, and this was one of them. Grasping the handle I turned the knob and stepped inside. King stood by the window, his hands buried in his hair as he stared out at the view. On his desk was an empty bottle of whiskey, his favourite tipple.
“Oliver,” I whispered, and he turned, eyes bloodshot and face contorted in misery.
“Leave me,” he said, his voice pained.
I took three steps. “No. We both know this story is bullshit. It’s Bruce. I’m sure of it. He’s orchestrated all of this, planted the evidence.”
“Of course it’s fucking Bruce!” King cried, startling me. “How naïve were we to think he’d back off? Men like Bruce don’t back off — it’s not how they’re drawn. By backing off, he might as well be admitting he’s a dead man. It’s weakness, you see. I don’t know why I ever allowed myself to believe otherwise.”
All at once, the guilt hit me. Blackmailing Bruce had been my idea. Therefore, what was happening right now was my fault. Tears filled my eyes as the strength fled my body.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
King’s eyes came to mine, so blue, so beautiful, so sad. He shook his head, seeming to read my thoughts from my expression alone. “No, Alexis. Don’t even think it. All of this was going to happen eventually. Bruce has always despised me for not being like him, for making it my life’s mission to never be like him. He was always going to try to destroy me. It was only a matter of time.”
“But King, I….”
In a few short strides he was in front of me, his fingers going to my lips to stop me from continuing. “I said no, my darling. No. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Just by breathing, you make all this a million times more bearable. I’ve lost the respect of my peers, of everyone I know. I’ve lost.” He paused, choking up, his posture projecting his misery. His hands fisted, his jaw clenched tight. “I’ve lost everything I worked years to build. The pride I held, the respect I commanded from others, it’s all gone. I’m no longer the best at what I do, no longer surpassing anybody, because everybody thinks I got where I am by cheating.”
“But you didn’t cheat. You know it. I know it. Your mother knows it. We’re the only ones who matter.”
All the breath left him at once. “Oh, Alexis,” he said, his voice the saddest I’d ever heard it. “You don’t understand. If I don’t have respect, I have nothing. I might even go to prison for this.”
In that second, the whole world went still. My heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, and my legs almost buckled out from under me. I’d been so preoccupied with what Bruce had done to shame King that I hadn’t even thought about the consequences. Insider trading was illegal, and breaking the law meant prison time. I stared at him, mouth open, despair filling me up, when there was a knock on the door.
We both turned our heads, expecting Gillian, but somebody else stepped inside. It was the strange woman I’d seen just once before. The one with the dyed red hair who looked like a gypsy.
“Oliver,” she began, but he interrupted her.
“Get out! I don’t want to see you!” King fumed, stepping by me to face the woman.
“Do you work here?” he asked excitedly.
“Yeah, but I’m only an assistant. What’s with all the journos?”
His excitement seemed to deflate when he heard I wasn’t anybody important. “One of the directors at the bank has been accused of illegal insider trading. It’s all over the papers,” he said, and nodded to the stack I held under my arm. My heart almost stopped beating, and I walked past him in a daze. As soon as I’d scanned my ID and made it by reception, I found a bench and set the papers down. There on the front page of the very first one was all I needed to know.
It showed a picture of King, which looked to be taken at some function a couple of months ago. He wore a suit and an aloof expression while the photo was being captured. The slant to his mouth made him seem cruel and uncaring, which I thought was probably the intention. The article read:
Oliver King, head managing director at Johnson-Pearse Bank, has been accused of insider trading after an investigation into the financial institution’s public and private accounts. The claims were brought forward by an ex-employee of the bank, who wishes to remain anonymous. This individual is said to have left their job after discovering the unethical practices of the managing director. Mr King is the son of classical pianist Elaine King, who left the public eye over a decade ago after a long and successful career on the international stage….
And on the article went. I felt like I was going to throw up as I comprehended what was happening. I was on autopilot when I left the newspapers sitting there and hurried for the elevator. There were a number of other people inside, but I barely noticed them as I hit the button for my floor. Moments later, the door pinged open and I was out, almost running as I made my way to King’s office. I saw Gillian first. She sat at her desk, her expression as pale as a ghost, and I knew she’d heard the news.
“Where is he?” I asked, breathless.
Her worried eyes came to mine before she nodded to the closed door of King’s office. It was a rare moment that Gillian was lost for words, and this was one of them. Grasping the handle I turned the knob and stepped inside. King stood by the window, his hands buried in his hair as he stared out at the view. On his desk was an empty bottle of whiskey, his favourite tipple.
“Oliver,” I whispered, and he turned, eyes bloodshot and face contorted in misery.
“Leave me,” he said, his voice pained.
I took three steps. “No. We both know this story is bullshit. It’s Bruce. I’m sure of it. He’s orchestrated all of this, planted the evidence.”
“Of course it’s fucking Bruce!” King cried, startling me. “How naïve were we to think he’d back off? Men like Bruce don’t back off — it’s not how they’re drawn. By backing off, he might as well be admitting he’s a dead man. It’s weakness, you see. I don’t know why I ever allowed myself to believe otherwise.”
All at once, the guilt hit me. Blackmailing Bruce had been my idea. Therefore, what was happening right now was my fault. Tears filled my eyes as the strength fled my body.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
King’s eyes came to mine, so blue, so beautiful, so sad. He shook his head, seeming to read my thoughts from my expression alone. “No, Alexis. Don’t even think it. All of this was going to happen eventually. Bruce has always despised me for not being like him, for making it my life’s mission to never be like him. He was always going to try to destroy me. It was only a matter of time.”
“But King, I….”
In a few short strides he was in front of me, his fingers going to my lips to stop me from continuing. “I said no, my darling. No. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Just by breathing, you make all this a million times more bearable. I’ve lost the respect of my peers, of everyone I know. I’ve lost.” He paused, choking up, his posture projecting his misery. His hands fisted, his jaw clenched tight. “I’ve lost everything I worked years to build. The pride I held, the respect I commanded from others, it’s all gone. I’m no longer the best at what I do, no longer surpassing anybody, because everybody thinks I got where I am by cheating.”
“But you didn’t cheat. You know it. I know it. Your mother knows it. We’re the only ones who matter.”
All the breath left him at once. “Oh, Alexis,” he said, his voice the saddest I’d ever heard it. “You don’t understand. If I don’t have respect, I have nothing. I might even go to prison for this.”
In that second, the whole world went still. My heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, and my legs almost buckled out from under me. I’d been so preoccupied with what Bruce had done to shame King that I hadn’t even thought about the consequences. Insider trading was illegal, and breaking the law meant prison time. I stared at him, mouth open, despair filling me up, when there was a knock on the door.
We both turned our heads, expecting Gillian, but somebody else stepped inside. It was the strange woman I’d seen just once before. The one with the dyed red hair who looked like a gypsy.
“Oliver,” she began, but he interrupted her.
“Get out! I don’t want to see you!” King fumed, stepping by me to face the woman.
