Set Me Free (21 page)

Craig studied his
grandmother some more, wondering whose side she would've taken if she knew. There
was no doubt she was more ruthless than he, so he suspected it wouldn’t have
been his. She still loved her only son with the possessive kind of passion that
assumed he could do no wrong.      

Craig ran his hand
through his hair again. He would end up bald at this rate.  

‘I can’t accept
it, Nana,’ he said. ‘Not for this project. Six weeks ago Keith baited me into
agreeing to either deliver it with a sizeable profit or leave the business. I
accepted his challenge because I knew I could do it, but he’s since been
actively working to sabotage it. I think this is a set-up, Nana. I think he’s
out to pin it on me.’

‘That seems a
costly exercise. Especially when he can just as easily undermine the project,
get rid of you, and still make money.' She paused a moment and gazed out
towards a distant island. ‘But I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s not always
driven by good sense. Being the sensible one was your father’s role in the
company. Darling, how did you get yourself into this mess?’

Craig paused to
ponder. It was true; the mess he was in was his own doing. His guard was down
the day Keith threw down the gauntlet. Mad as hell at the time, he was ready to
fight to the death, and that was even before he was distracted by a pair of grey
eyes and curvy hips.

Perhaps this was
fate playing her hand, releasing him from his father’s legacy. Assuming of
course, that he wasn’t about to be frogmarched off to jail.

‘I’m not cut out
for this business.’

‘Don’t
underestimate the value of what you do, my darling,’ Nana Gwen counselled,
knowing his self-doubt well. ‘You're different to your father and Keith. Together
they were like a pair of dogs pissing up against trees to mark their territory.
You do more than that. You change the world with your work. You pick up what
has been abandoned and discarded and give it new life. Those ideals of yours
are precious, sweetheart. Where would we be without them?’

Craig gave her a
smile. ‘Thanks, Nana.' After a moment he added,   ‘Though they don’t get me very
far, and sometimes they’re bloody hard to live with.’

Craig looked out
across the calm ocean to the resort where the Morgan Carmichael staff were
making the most of their all expenses paid mini-break. This was it. There was
no salvaging the project now. He needed to find a way to come out of this
unscathed and unimprisoned.

A vision of
Charlotte, smiling lopsided at him, swam into his mind. Where did this leave
her?   

He would do
something; he just needed to figure out what that was.

Nana Gwen was studying
him. ‘You’ll work it out, darling. You always do,’ she said.

‘I don’t think
it’s ever been this complicated before, Nana.’

‘Sleep on it,
love,’ she said. ‘But row me back to shore first.’

The
noisy chatter drifting up the street from the Moorehouse Gallery greeted
Charlotte as she made her way to her sister’s breakthrough exhibition. Laughter
and the occasional chink of wine glasses suggested the evening was so far a
success, although it was still early. Charlotte wasn’t exactly late, but she'd
gotten caught up obsessing about what to wear. Tonight of all nights, she
needed to look cool and composed.

After several
changes of clothes and several false starts with her hair and make-up, she
believed she may just pull it off.

In the end, her
hair bounced loose off her shoulders, pinned on one side with a bold, bright
red gerbera flower clip. During the week, she’d been shopping at her favourite
vintage store and purchased three new dresses. After much deliberation, tonight
she’d settled on the cocktail dress; its pale pink taffeta overlaid with black
lace and blown out to full 50s perfection by a black tulle petticoat beneath. It
was impossible not to flounce in this dress.

On her feet was a
pair of bright red t-bar heels, giving her height and straightening her
shoulders, so she could look the world in the eye. She carried a red clutch
that was vinyl, but brand new, so it looked classier than it was. She felt
great.

Nonetheless, she
still took a deep breath and put on her bravest face before she swanned into
the gallery. Tonight, she'd hold pride of place as the sister of the artist,
rather than the disgruntled former exclusive exhibitor.

It took all her
resolve to keep her shoulders back when the first person she recognised was
Cassette. Honestly, the woman had no shame. What was she thinking, turning up
here?  And then, of course, standing beside her was Craig, who hadn’t failed to
clock Charlotte’s entrance and was now watching her intently but without
expression.

The sight of him
rocked her. Instinct sent a warm flush from her stomach to her neck. Over a
week ago she’d been miserable because he was avoiding her, a circumstance she’d
called for herself. Then the dreadful letter had arrived, and after the initial
hurt, the anger she’d felt, when she first discovered who he was, had returned.
Staring at him across the room, she found she had to conjure it now, and not be
hoodwinked by his molten chocolate eyes.

What was he doing
here?  Audacious prick.

Charlotte scowled
at him, to his apparent surprise, and scanned the room for a safe place. Thankfully,
Emily appeared out of nowhere, negotiating her way through the crowd in a
bright red 1970s kaftan, looking the part of a bohemian artist. She pulled her
towards the bar. ‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ she said. ‘We’re both going to
need a few drinks tonight.'

Unsurprisingly,
Cassette’s presence was wreaking havoc on Emily’s confidence. This was her
biggest exhibition yet and the woman who stole her husband and inspired most of
the pieces, was floating around as though she owned the place. Threatening to
destroy something just by being there. It was not conducive to a successful and
pleasant evening.

‘I can’t believe
she is here.’ Charlotte hissed, reassuring Emily she had her back.

‘Stupid arrogant
bitch,’ Emily barked angrily. ‘Seriously, what does she think she will
achieve?  Hello, I have the moral high ground here. Most of these people know
what happened by now. Does she want to be treated like shit?  And I can’t
believe she dragged Craig here. I would have expected him to have more sense.’

Charlotte snorted
in derision and quickly sought solace in the glass of red she picked up from
the bar. Emily knocked back a sizable swig of her own.

‘Okay,’ Charlotte
swallowed. ‘Look at me.' She put her glass down on the table next to them and
took her sister’s face in her hands. ‘You're an amazing woman. You're talented
and smart and beautiful, and you're the star here tonight. All of these people
want to talk to you. Most of them will be mortified Cassette is here and ready
to jump to your defence should she try anything. You need to mingle and promote
yourself. Dazzle them, honey, as only Emily Evans can.’

Emily pulled
Charlotte into a tight and hasty embrace. ‘I love you,’ she said. ‘You look
amazing, by the way. I think some of these people will want to talk to you
tonight, too. Particularly the one heading this way now.' Charlotte followed
Emily’s look and found Craig weaving his way through the crowd towards her,
eyes fixed on his destination.

Charlotte turned
back to Emily quickly. They both straightened their shoulders, but Emily was
the first to break away. She cast her eyes around the room. ‘Here I go,’ she
said quietly and headed off in the opposite direction to Cassette.

Before Charlotte could
formulate her escape plan, Craig was upon her, intimately whispering in her ear.
‘What’s with the dirty look?’

His warm breath
sent a sudden jolt of electricity down her spine. It hit her tailbone and shot
back up, slowly paralysing her as it went. She took a deep breath.

‘What’s with the
skanky tramp?’ she snapped, whirling on him and stepping back slightly.

Craig was taken
aback. ‘What? Whoa. Nasty. Where the hell is that coming from, Charlotte?’

‘Why would you
bring her here, Craig?’

‘What the hell? 
You think I brought her here?  Jesus, Charlotte. Of course I didn’t bring her
here. I couldn’t talk her out of coming, so I came with her to keep her out of
trouble. I thought you knew me better than that.’

Charlotte
harrumphed, unforgiving. ‘I did think I had a pretty good idea of what kind of
man you are, Craig. But as it turns out, I was wrong. So I’m really not sure
what you're capable of.’

‘What’s that
supposed to mean?’ Craig’s shoulders set and his face hardened.  

‘Well, I have to
wonder what kind of man would seduce a woman before kicking her out on her arse.
Doesn’t sound like a very nice one does it?’

‘As I recall it,
you were the one doing the arse-kicking. You asked me to leave, Charlotte. What
the hell are you talking about?’

‘The eviction letter,
dipshit,’ interjected Ben, who had suddenly appeared at Charlotte’s elbow.

Charlotte flushed
hotly. How much of that had he heard?

Craig’s face
changed as he looked to Ben for more information. ‘What eviction letter?’

‘The one you
signed and sent our way.' Ben was doing a great job of being deadpan. Thank
goodness, because Charlotte was still trying to recover from the fact he may
have overheard things about seduction.

‘When did you get
this letter?’ Craig asked both of them, eyes moving furtively between them, his
mind unmistakably going into overdrive.

‘Last Friday,’ Ben
answered.

‘Right.’ Craig
nodded and looked at Charlotte again, his brow furrowed, his expression stern. She
managed to lift a defiant chin. He opened his mouth to say something but then
thought better of it, and pulled out his phone. ‘Excuse me,’ he said and walked
away, tapping at the keypad.

‘He’s either a
good actor or he didn’t know about the letters,’ said Ben as they watched him
go.

Charlotte didn’t
know what to think. How could he not know?  Her mind simply went blank. The
possibility that he didn’t was making this whole situation impossibly
convoluted.

She looked up at
her tall, lanky friend and was surprised to note he’d dressed up for the
occasion. Gone was his usual black t-shirt and jeans combination. Although the
jeans were still in place the darkness and crispness of the denim suggested
they were new. Tonight he’d paired them with a three button vintage Harris
Tweed coat. Charlotte thought he looked a little warm, but kept that to herself.
She had more pressing concerns to resolve.

‘How much of our
conversation did you hear?'

He grinned, almost
triumphant. ‘Nothing that surprised me.’

‘What’s that
supposed to mean?’

‘Your crush is
pretty obvious, Charlotte. If you ended up in bed with him, I’m not surprised.’

‘I don’t have a
crush!’

Ben pondered her a
moment. ‘No,’ he said seriously. ‘I don’t believe you do.’

Flustered,
Charlotte smacked him in the arm with her clutch.

‘Hey!’ he
protested, rubbing his arm, his humour returning. ‘And here I was thinking I
would volunteer to be your guardian for tonight.’

‘I don’t need a
guardian.’

Ben looked to the
direction in which Craig had disappeared and raised an eyebrow.

‘I don’t,’
Charlotte affirmed, looking anywhere else. Her scan of the room clocked another
approaching threat. ‘But don’t go anywhere because Gareth Moorehouse is on his
way over here.’

Gareth ambled
across the gallery towards her, the crowd parting like the Red Sea before his
overweight figure. He wore a burgundy velvet smoking jacket over a black skivvy
and black slacks and commanded attention as he moved through the crowd. Pausing
occasionally to air kiss cheeks, wave his fingers and acknowledge his guests,
his destination was clear.

‘Charlotte, dear. I’m
so pleased you could make it,’ he crooned when he reached her.

Stiffly, Charlotte
replied, ‘I wouldn’t be anywhere else tonight, Gareth. You know that.’

‘Of course not. She’s
such a marvel that sister of yours. And she’s truly come into her own with this
latest work. You know it did pain me to steal her off you.' He gushed far too
enthusiastically for the sentiment to be genuine.

Tense, Charlotte’s
response was terse. ‘Oh it did not, Gareth. You made her an offer she'd be a
fool to refuse. And one you knew I couldn’t compete with. I am very proud of
her, you know. And happy for her.’

‘So stoic,’ he
exclaimed, a camp hand going to his heart.

‘Don’t mock me,
Gareth. It’s disrespectful.' She really was feeling intolerant tonight.

Gareth paused a
moment and looked at her afresh.

‘Why I do believe
I've been put in my place. Good for you, my dear.' He kissed her
emphatically
on each cheek. There was no air this time. ‘You have a good time tonight, my
darling. Hook into that bar and take care of your divine friend here.' Blatantly
appraising Ben, he lifted a suggestive eyebrow before disappearing once more
into the crowd.

Charlotte
immediately grabbed Ben’s arm. With no other threats making their way towards
them, they finally had an opportunity to simply enjoy the show. ‘Let’s check
what’s sold,’ she suggested and dragged him across the gallery to inspect the
art.

‘You never told me
how your date went the other night,’ she said, grateful Ben was here solo, and
able to be her custodian after all.

‘You never asked,’
he said.

She gave him a
look.

He sighed. ‘It was
okay, I guess.’

‘I can’t tell if
that means you ended up in bed with her or not.’

His shrug was
noncommittal.

‘Okay, I’ll drop
it then,’ Charlotte conceded, and turned her attention elsewhere.

The exhibition was
already sold out. True to his word, Ben stayed by her side as she mingled,
catching up with patrons of her own; buyers and artists alike. Later in the
evening they managed to catch Emily momentarily between clients and slip her a
glass of wine. After congratulatory hugs and kisses, Ben used the opportunity
to disappear into the men’s room.

‘Is he being your
shadow tonight?’ Emily asked, watching him leave.

‘Yes. Though
honestly it’s nowhere near as scary as I thought it would be and I don’t really
need him. Still, it’s nice to know someone’s got my back.' Charlotte considered
her sister. ‘What about you?  Do you need a shadow?  Has Cassette managed to
catch you?’

Emily grinned. ‘I
have a shadow. This whole crowd has my back tonight. I don’t know how
orchestrated it is, but there’s always a crowd of people between me and her,
and people keep appearing to steer me across the room whenever she looks my way.
Not to mention Craig’s been herding her all night, though judging by the scowl
on his face he’s pretty over it. I, on the other hand, am having the night of
my life!’

Charlotte hugged
her and stole a glance at Craig across the room. ‘So you should,’ she told her
sister. Craig was indeed scowling as he tugged insistently on the arm of a very
drunk Cassette, trying to pull her off Gareth Moorehouse. Gareth caught
Charlotte’s eye, peeled Cassette’s fingers off his arm and made a beeline for
the Evans sisters.

‘Goodness,’ he
sighed when he reached them. ‘Who invited the riff-raff?' He winked at Emily as
he said it. She laughed appreciatively with the confidence that had been
missing for the last couple of months. Charlotte wanted to hug Gareth, but that
could have been the wine. Speaking of which, she needed more.

With perfect
timing Ben reappeared and offered to fetch it. Emily volunteered to help him. Watching
them go, Gareth took her hand and patted it. ‘I don’t mean to be the bearer of
bad news Charlotte, but there’s trouble there.’ He nodded his head towards Ben
and Emily’s disappearing backs. ‘She’s going to steal him off you. She’s either
going to fall in love with him or break his heart, but either way, your
friendship is in trouble.’