Romance In Paradise. Sarah Mayberry
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his six-foot-three frame into a minuscule economy class seat to spend thirteen hours in cramped misery. As Chris kept reminding him, business class also allowed him to review his files in privacy, to catch a couple of twenty-minute power naps, to drink good whisky. He’d worked hard for a long time, he told himself, and he—the business—could afford it.
Noah rolled his shoulders as he made his way through Customs, looking forward to a decent shower, a beer and to sleeping for a week.
Of course sleeping for a week was a pipedream; he was working all hours of the day to build his company, and sleep was a luxury he just couldn’t afford. Self-sufficiency and financial independence were a lot higher up on Noah’s list of priorities than sleep.
Who knew why he was being met by Chris, his oldest friend, partner and second-in-command at Auterlochie Consulting? Something must be up. He swallowed as dread settled over him. The last time Chris had met him at the airport it had been because Kade, one of their best employees, had committed suicide. God, he didn’t want to deal with something like that again...
‘No one has died,’ Chris said quickly and Noah wasn’t surprised that he’d read his mind.
They’d learnt to read each other’s faces—sometimes their thoughts—in dusty, unfriendly situations and it was a trait they’d never lost.
Noah did a minor eye-roll as Chris shook his hand and pulled him into that one-armed hug he did so well. Only Chris could get away with that kind of PDA; when you’d saved a guy’s life you had to overlook his occasional sappiness.
Noah adjusted the rucksack on his shoulder as they made their way across the terminal. ‘What’s up?’
Chris jammed his hands in his pockets and gestured towards the nearest coffee shop. ‘I’ll explain. You look like hell.’
Noah grinned wryly. ‘Nice to see you too.’
Ten minutes later Noah was slumped into a plastic seat at one of the many generic restaurants scattered throughout the hall. He sent his friend a sour look and took another sip of his strong black coffee. By his estimation he’d been awake for more than thirty hours and he was feeling punchy.
‘How did the assessment go?’ Chris asked.
‘Brilliant. They took all my suggestions on board and paid the account via bank transfer before I left the office. The money should be through already.’
‘It is. I checked. It’s easy money, Noah.’
‘And we can do it with our eyes closed. If we start getting a reputation for providing solid advice at a good price, I think we could double our turnover—and soon too.’
‘We’ve already exceeded our initial projections for the business. In fact, we’re doing really well.’
‘We can do better. I want to build us into being the premier provider of VIP protection and risk assessment in the UK.’
‘Not the world?’ Chris quipped, gently mocking his ambition as he always did.
Chris was less driven than he was, and had his feet firmly placed on the ground. It wasn’t a bad thing. Noah had enough ambition for both of them. They were great partners. Chris was better with people: he had an easy way about him that drew people in. Their clients and staff talked to Chris; he was their best friend, the elder brother, a mate. Chris was the touchy-feely half of their partnership.
Noah was tough, decisive and goal-orientated; the partner who kicked butt. He called it being disciplined, reasonable, responsible and dedicated in everything he did. Chris called it being a control freak perfectionist. And emotionally stunted. Yeah, yeah...
Well, that was what happened when you grew up far too fast... Noah ran a hand over his face as if to wipe away the memories of his childhood, of picking up the pieces when his mother died, the wrench of losing his brothers. He pulled in a breath and along with it control.
He was in control, he reminded himself. It was a long time ago that he was sixteen and had felt the earth shaking under his feet.
He saw Chris’s insightful look and summoned up a smile. ‘I’ve scheduled world domination for next year,’ he quipped. ‘What was the response when you told our employees that we wanted them to do a mandatory session with a psychologist every six months?’
‘They grumbled, but they understood. Kade’s death has rocked them all. You do know that we’ll have to do it too.’
Noah blanched. ‘Hell, no.’
‘Hell, yes. Kade was our responsibility and we didn’t pick up the signs. What if we’re working too hard, trying to keep too many balls in the air, and we miss the signs in someone else? We have to be as mentally healthy as—more mentally healthy than—any of our employees, Noah. That’s non-negotiable.’
Since Chris was the healthiest, most balanced person he knew, Noah didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that Chris was talking about him. Chris thought he was too stressed—working like a demon, juggling far too many balls. He knew that Chris was worried about him burning out, but he also knew that that he was nowhere near the edge...
Working hard never killed anyone—and besides, he’d been to the edge before and he knew what it looked like. He was still miles away.
Chris slapped the folder he’d been holding onto the table and pushed it towards him. Flipping open the cover, Noah looked down into the laughing face of a green-eyed blonde. She was standing between her famous mother and father, her brother behind them. The most successful family on planet earth, he thought. Rich, successful, close. A unit.
He felt a pang of jealousy and told himself that despite the fact that he had not been part of his brothers’ lives for most of their formative years he was now, and they weren’t doing so badly.
Noah concentrated on the photo below him. Morgan...she’d grown up. She was wearing a tight, slinky cream dress that stopped inches below her butt and revealed her giraffe-long legs. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a smooth ponytail and her naturally made-up face was alight with joy. She looked fantastic. Happy, charismatic.
Hot.
Doing a stint as her bodyguard had nearly killed him. Apart from that one incident he’d never before or since needed the same amount of control and determination as he’d summoned the night he’d walked away from the gloriously naked Morgan Claire Morrisey Moreau.
Noah flipped through the papers in the file. ‘Floor plans of the Forrester-Grantham hotel in New York. Photos of the Moreau jewellery collection... I thought the Moreaus were Amanda’s clients—have always been CFT’s clients?’
Amanda. Their ex-boss and his ex-lover. As petite and as dangerous as a black widow spider, she looked like every other ball-breaker businesswoman in the city.
Except that Amanda actually broke balls. She’d certainly tried to go for his when she’d found out that he was leaving the CFT Corporation to start a company that was in direct competition with hers.
That hadn’t been a day full of fun and giggles.
‘Well, as you know, James Moreau and I went to school together,’ Chris said.
Noah shrugged off his tiredness to connect the dots. James Moreau: CEO of Moreau International, brother to Morgan and son to Hannah ‘Queen of Diamonds’ Moreau and Jedd Moreau, one of the world’s best known geologists.
Moreau International owned diamond and gemstone mines, dealt in the trading of said gems—especially diamonds—and had exclusive jewellery stores in all the major cities around the world. Hannah, as the face of the company, had always been a target, and CFT routinely provided her and Jedd with additional bodyguards when they needed more protection than their long-term driver/guards. That protection was only extended to James and Morgan and other high-ranking executives within MI when MI’s security division or CFT received a particular threat, or were monitoring a situation where extra protection was needed.
Eight