A Chance Encounter by Rae Shaw (best ereader for academics .TXT) 📕

into everyday things. He had forgotten her marital status; she had mentioned her ex-husband during a meeting about the fuel scandal, had told him not to call her missus and that she preferred a neutral title. Or just Julianna. She had flashed him a pretty smile. It was the first hint that she liked him. He was convinced she liked him. Or wanted something from him.

‘Are you okay?’ Sophia asked Mark. ‘You look flushed.’

‘Fine. It’s hot in here.’ Julianna swallowed a mouthful of cheese. She looked up and realised her mistake.

How bloody embarrassing, for him as well as her.

~ * ~

Jackson purloined Mark for a trip to the bar. The two men, of near equal height, leaned against the counter and avoid each other’s eyes. Mark estimated Jackson’s bar tab would be substantial by the end of the night. He resisted smiling. Jackson’s wealth went beyond numbers; there was a good measure of inherent philanthropy.

Jackson stooped a little over Mark’s shoulder. ‘How’s Ellen? Recovered from her burn?’ Jackson asked. The barman was quietly working his way through their order.

Mark speculated if everybody he met were Jackson's spies, then he remembered the quiet conversation at Fasleigh House the previous month. He had referred to the freak coffee spillage encounter with his sister, which Mark had used to illustrate life's strange twists of fate. In the fog of alcohol he had mentioned he hadn't seen his sister for a few years. Jackson had the ability to latch onto seemingly unimportant things and read beyond the headlines.

‘Oh, it was superficial. She's at a wedding today.’

‘Why not let her have some fun at my club. Bring her along the next time I'm there. I’ll let you know when I'll be there next.’ Jackson owned a ridiculously expensive nightclub in the West End. He used it to attract celebrities and then milked them for his fundraisers.

Mark almost said no thanks. Ellen in a nightclub – would he have to be her chaperone, watch how much she drank, whom she talked to? It wasn't his idea of a fun night out and Ellen wouldn't take kindly to his big brother role. However, if he turned Jackson down, he doubted there would be a second chance.

‘I’d be delighted to bring Ellen along, naturally. Honoured,’ he said swiftly.

Jackson's motives for befriending Mark remained cloaked. Mark suspected it had something to do with what had happened at the Haydocks accountancy company, his previous employer. That incident hung on his heels no matter how hard he tried to shake off its legacy. To cover his tracks he had moved three times since arriving in London. Eventually, luck won out and rather like his chance encounter with Ellen in the coffee shop, he had had a similar one with Hettie in the wine bar. That fortuitous event had led to a personal interview with Jackson at his headquarters.

It had been a congenial, yet probing interview, in which Jackson had picked apart Mark's work at Daneswan, the accountancy firm that recruited him after he had left Manchester. Remarkably, Jackson hadn't asked about Haydocks. Battling the urge to confess what he had inadvertently unleashed all those months ago, he had opted to keep quiet and presented himself as loyal, hardworking. Trustworthy. It came as a surprise that the interview ended on a high point: Jackson asked him to tidy up his wife's accounts.

When they had shaken hands, Jackson had held it longer than he had expected. ‘You won't be at Daneswan for much longer, Mark. You'll be moved here to my HQ and the Forensic Accountancy division as soon as there’s an opening.’

The weird thing was Mark hadn't expressed any hint of wanting to shift into forensic accountancy. It excited him: delving into the dark world of fraud and embezzling and he had the right skills for the role. But Haynes Financial Services recruited the most experienced for those kinds of jobs. Mark lacked professional qualifications.

‘Thank you,’ he had said with a dry throat. He wanted to know why, but Jackson had steered him out of the door. ‘My PA will put you in contact with my wife.’ On the office threshold, Jackson had thumped his back, nearly knocking Mark off his feet.

Three months later, Jackson's promise had been delivered.

As the barman loaded the tray with drinks, offering to bring them over, Mark glanced over his shoulder, and caught the rosy cheeked Julianna staring at him. She hurriedly disposed of her empty plate on a nearby table. Her furtive evening of spying led Mark to wonder whether she cared for the Haynes family or not. He had always imagined the role of bodyguard as soulless and detached. Was she really prepared to step in and put her life on the line for them?

He and Jackson re-joined the group and helped distribute the drinks. He missed Hettie’s frivolity.

‘Hettie still tires easily,’ Mark said. Julianna’s eyes flashed bright under the halogens. He wasn’t sure why he was thinking of Hettie when he was consciously looking at another woman.

Jackson pursed his lips. ‘She’s been overdoing it. Trying to run the gallery and nursing Evey at the same time. She's had trouble with the concept of owning a business and taking maternity leave.’

Sophia frowned. ‘She told me she was going to get some art graduates in to provide extra help.’

‘I pointed out that interns require a great deal of supervision.’ Jackson fingered his glass, ‘So I told her to appoint an experienced gallery manager as maternity cover.’

‘I suspect that didn’t go down well,’ Luke said.

‘No,’ Jackson said, dryly, ‘But I didn’t give her a choice. So she found one.’

Mark recalled the lengthy discussions with Hettie about her wish to keep her business independent of her husband's conglomeration. ‘She would have resisted that idea,’ Mark said.

Jackson raised his glass to his lips and paused. ‘She did. Briefly.’

Mark expected something on