Free A Matter of Trust: London Calling Book One by Kat Faitour

Sterling had entered the world of banking and finance as an entrepreneur with a small inheritance. He’d succeeded more wildly than anyone expected, but gladly handed over the reins first to his own son, then Bennett when Charles II died unexpectedly and early in a car accident with his young wife. Bennett had only been in his early twenties, just out of university.
    Devon clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Bennett. I didn’t know. I assumed your parents were still alive, retired somewhere.” At his nod of acknowledgment, she continued, “And your grandfather? Did he come back out of retirement when they passed?” At his look of confusion, she clarified, “To help you?”
    “No. Nan was too distraught after losing her only child. She needed him more.”  
    Devon wondered whom Bennett had needed. Who had been there for him?  
    He continued, “Then she fell ill. I always felt it was the grief, but of course that’s ridiculous. Cancer was the culprit. She fought it like a warrior for three years, but eventually lost the battle. She needed Granddad. And he was there.” Whenever he mentioned his grandfather, the words spoke of respect and friendship. His voice, the tone, spoke of love.  
    Devon leaned forward, whispering. “I don’t know what to say, Bennett. You’ve suffered so much loss. I don’t think I could stand it.”
    Bennett straightened, leaning forward to top off her wine again and add a splash to his. “You could. We do what we have to and we adapt. It’s the human condition.” He didn’t drink, just idly twirled the stem of his glass. “But that’s enough about me. Tell me about yourself.” If he noticed her abrupt withdrawal, he ignored it. “Did you move around a bit growing up?”  
    In the process of reaching for her wine, Devon’s hand stopped for one beat before resuming.  
    Eyes narrowing, Bennett continued, “Or did you stay in one place?”
    She shifted in her seat. “We moved a bit. Why?”
    “Sometimes you have more of an accent than others. I guessed that’s because you didn’t consistently live all your life in the South. Am I right?”
    She chuckled, carefully not meeting his eyes. “Well, that depends on what you define as the South. And that depends on where you are in the States. It’s all relative, you see.” She swirled her wine, but also didn’t sip. “Did it bother you being an only child?”
    “No. I attended boarding schools so had lots of mates. I never really thought about it, to be honest. Then my parents died and it was all far too late.”  
    Devon cringed. She wanted to shift the conversation away from herself, but she’d been thoughtless. Guilt flushing her cheeks, she reached across the table, forgetting her vow not to touch.
    “I’m sorry, that was insensitive.”
    He squeezed her fingers before quickly releasing them. She had one moment to miss the contact before he questioned her again.
    “So tell me more about your family.”  
    His midnight gaze was intent. Picking up her dinner napkin, she began to restlessly pleat it between her fingers. “Why?”
    “Because we’re enjoying some friendly after-dinner chat.” His voice hardened. “Like civilized people do, Devon.”
    She twisted the pleats into a tight spiral. She had little doubt how uncivilized Bennett Sterling would be if he had any idea about her family. Who she came from. What she was. “I think we should get to work. That’s what we came here to do, didn’t we?” Seeing his brows lower, she pushed further. “Didn’t we?”
    Bennett’s eyes narrowed. He spread his hand on the table between them and grated, “I’m getting tired of your disrespect. And I’m wondering why you can’t answer a simple question about your family.”
    Devon paled, but knew she mustn’t weaken. She had everything to lose if she revealed too much to his probing. He’d fire her in a heartbeat if he knew her father was a practiced grifter, adept at confidence games.