My love
Dad
Sometimes it felt to Ava as if she had never known her father, that her relationship with him had been an illusion, a con, a dream, and it was only in death that he was showing his true colours. Yet whatever his shortcomings she missed him with an ache of grief that seared and swelled inside her even six months after his death. A grief that made her determined to at least try to carry out his wishes. James Casseveti had wanted Luca and Jodi to be involved in Dolci—Ava had to give them that chance And now she would go and try to make amends for a wrong done before she was even born.
One last look at her reflection and Ava gave a satisfied nod. She was as ready as she would ever be—ready to face Liam Rourke, Terry Rourke’s son. Another fun day in the life of Ava Casseveti.
* * *
In his sleekly furnished office, a careful mix of minimalist and comfort, designed to inspire client confidence, Liam Rourke read the email on his screen. Surprise and disappointment coalesced into a low but heartfelt curse—he’d lost the Daley contract. For an instant anger joined the mix but he resisted the urge to slam his fist onto his desk. He couldn’t win them all, he knew that. But this one stung, because he’d lost it to a man he knew and despised.
Andrew Joseph Mason, known to his upper-class pals as AJ. AJ Mason, ex-army like Liam. Founder of a security company. Like Liam. And there the parallels ended. AJ Mason came from ‘proper’ gilded army stock. There had been a Mason in the British army since time immemorial. No doubt since the first battalion of cavemen faced each other. And no doubt even millennia before they had been officer material, clad in a more expensive brand of leopard skin.
Now here was AJ Mason muscling in on his turf and Liam knew exactly how he was doing it. AJ had influence, clout and connections. All of which were undeniably impressive, especially when put against Liam’s, which were pretty much non-existent. Liam had no army officers in his family, didn’t have that extended familial network. But that shouldn’t matter—though it had to AJ.
For a moment, memories hit Liam, of officer training thirteen years before, and the hell AJ Mason and a couple of his thuggish friends had put him through. AJ had taken an instant dislike to Liam, an antipathy born of his belief that officers should come from an upper-class background. A dislike that had flourished because Liam had turned out to be first-class officer material, had excelled in the training and exercises, had showed AJ up again and again. So AJ had exacted revenge; he’d known Liam would never ‘snitch’, so he and his friends had caused him to be ostracised, forced him to endure humiliation time and again.
Well, he wouldn’t take it again. He was no longer a vulnerable eighteen-year-old boy. He’d figured out a way to beat AJ then and he’d do the same now. Years ago he’d managed to persuade AJ to meet him in the boxing ring. Once there he’d won a hard-fought victory, one where he’d showed AJ up and beaten him fair and square, the land of each punch a relish and retaliation for the humiliations piled upon him. A relish he could still taste now.
But it was a defeat that had left AJ a laughing stock—worse, it had also come to the attention of senior army officers who had been less than happy with him despite his illustrious background and family. AJ had been livid at the time and it seemed that had festered over the years.
There was a knock on the door and Liam’s PA pushed it open and entered.
‘Hey, Rita.’
‘Hey. I’m sorry about Daley.’ The petite redhead shook her head. ‘It sucks. I heard on the grapevine that AJ invited Old Man Daley over for dinner, br
ought out the family silver and had his wife name-drop like crazy. The tipping point was a promise to invite his daughter to the Henley regatta with a few minor royals in tow. Worse I heard AJ’s going for the Beaumont contract too.’
Liam’s jaw clenched. Beaumont Industries replaced their security providers every five years and had requested a tender from Rourke Securities. It would be the contract that took his business to the next level.
Rita hesitated. ‘It gets worse.’
‘Explain.’
‘He’s dropping insinuations as well as names over the port and cigars. About how tragic it was that you lost your wife. That the tragedy made you lose your edge and isn’t it sad you can’t bring yourself to even date anyone. Shows what a long way you are from recovery.’
The idea that AJ was using Jessica’s death caused cold, hard anger to slide into his gut. Made worse as he realised the effectiveness of the tactic. Right or wrong, like it or not, clients wanted a man with edge to be in charge of their security contracts, not a man still swimming the depths of grief and guilt.
The ache of guilt, the sadness of what might have been, still pulsed inside him, part of the fabric of his being even though it was five years since Jess’s death. The knowledge that their marriage had been a disaster of his own making, that he had taken her love and given her nothing back, allowed her to waste her tragically short life on him.
The start of their relationship had been overshadowed by the illness and death of his father. Followed by their hasty marriage due to Jess’s belief she was pregnant, though by that point Liam had already suspected their relationship was doomed. That in his grief he’d mistaken attraction and liking for love. That Jess’s love for him had blinded him and made him believe he felt the same way. But Jess had been so happy, so grateful even, that she had touched his heart and so he’d squashed down the niggle of doubt, the growing realisation that he didn’t love her. Besides, he would never abandon a child. And by the time they’d realised the pregnancy scare was a false one he’d known he couldn’t reject her love, couldn’t hurt her the way his mother had hurt his father.
A few years later Jess had fallen ill and her last words to him had been of love, an admonishment not to grieve for too long and not to feel guilt over their marriage. Perhaps her forgiveness should have absolved him but in some ways it simply weighted the load more. That final conversation had torn his heart, shredded his insides with sadness and frustration. He would have done anything to give Jess more time, a chance to follow her dreams instead of waiting for him to return her love.
But he wouldn’t show anyone that pain and he knew damn well it hadn’t caused him to lose his edge. ‘Thanks for the info,’ he said. ‘I’ll deal with it.’
‘I know you will.’ Rita glanced at her watch. ‘Anyways, the other reason I came up here was to tell you that you have a visitor.’
‘A potential client?’
‘I assume so.’ Rita frowned. ‘She looks familiar but she’s wearing sunglasses and a scarf. Didn’t want to give me her full name either.’ None of this was unusual—sometimes clients were loath to give their identity or be recognised. ‘She just said her name is Ava.’
Ava. It took all of Liam’s iron control not to react, even as he told himself he was being foolish. Ava wasn’t that uncommon a name—yet to him it had huge significance. The name bandied about during his childhood: Ava Casseveti—daughter of the man who had betrayed his father, driven Terry Rourke to drink and bitterness.
Liam gave his head a small shake—there were plenty of Avas in the world. And why on earth would Ava Casseveti show her face here? Any Casseveti was definitively persona non grata in his world. ‘Bring her in.’
Rita nodded and exited the room. Liam rose, paced, worked to clear his mind from thoughts of the past.