Chapter 113 Asking For Help

Eden's POV:

I end up working late over the next two days. James Artie is certainly right about one thing. My grandma's job isn't easy. There's a heck of a lot to do and it's fair to say that James and his nephew Lewis aren't making it any easier. If anything their making the whole thing a d*mn sight harder.

It feels like every day there's a new company coming forward to sue us because of Lewis's team. At this point, it seems impossible that Lewis will be able to even try and pass the buck onto someone else. His whole team can't be responsible, if he's not.

It just seems to get worse and I seem to be spending an insane amount of my time apologising for Lewis's actions. It would be significantly easier if he’d just scr*wed over big conglomerate but the man has no moral compass at all, and seems to have stolen ideas from the biggest names in the furniture business to little start ups and even one or two family run shops. I don’t like having to apologise for something I didn’t do and what’s more, I hate that my grandma’s name is the one being tarnished.

It's late when I leave the office, too late to visit grandma, but I'm tempted to check if Noah is still here. He usually pops up to my office before he leaves but it's so late now that I'm struggling to imagine he'd still be here.

I pull the police file out of my desk draw. I still haven't read through it yet. I keep putting it off, too scared what it might hold. I'm tempted to just give it to Noah to read since I’m clearly chicken.

Making my way out of the office, I find Martin at his desk still busy typing away.

"I'm going to head home," I tell him.

"Very good, Miss Clancy. Is there anything you need?"

"No, thank you. You should head home too."

"I'll probably take a few things to the hospital for your grandma," he says, turning off his computer.

"Thank you, Martin," I say softly. It always amazes me how much he really cares for my grandma. I probably shouldn't be surprised after all these years.

My smile cracks as I think back to the case file. What if I’m wrong and he really did kill my parents?

“Are you alright, Miss Clancy?” he asks when I don’t move.

“Yes. Thank you. Just tired.” I shake off the sudden onslaught of feelings and force myself to start walking.

“I believe Mr Grisham is still in the building,” Martin says knowingly, and I decide not to reply, only offering him a nod of my head.

I consider my options all the way to Noah’s office. I want to get this over and done with. I want to stop worrying about whether or not my parents were murdered, or whether my grandma’s life might be in danger. I want to put all this drama behind me and to do that I need to read what is written in the case file.

I’m almost completely resolved to do exactly that when I arrive at Noah’s office. As promised, he’s still here, his office light bright under the crack of his door compared to the darkness of the department.

“Hey,” I say as I step into the room, after knocking briefly.

“Hello you,” he replies, looking up from the work that is cluttering his desk. He looks tired, like he’s worked all day and I find myself wondering if he had lunch. I’d been so distracted with the lawyers that I hadn’t had time to stop myself but I had presumed that he could look after himself.

It would seem I was wrong.

“I think we need to hire you a new assistant,” I tell him almost teasingly.

He groans, shaking his head as if he can think of nothing worse. He doesn’t exactly have the best track record with secretaries. Until me that is.

“I guess,” he says reluctantly, getting to his feet. “Are you sure you don’t want to come back?”

He pulls me into his arms and I’m not about to lie to him. I’d definitely rather be working at the desk outside his office than sitting in my grandma’s chair and making all these crazy big important decision.

But I don’t really have a say in the matter.

“Sorry love,” I say as casually as I can.

“I knew you were too good to be true,” he says as his lips move down my neck, dropping tiny kisses on whatever skin he can find that isn’t covered by my blouse.

“I need your help with something,” I tell him, trying not to get distracted by the feel of his lips against my skin. We’ll have all the time in the world to enjoy one another when we’ve put this matter to bed.

“What do you need?” he asks distractedly.

“Not here.”

That gets his attention. There are only three things I refuse to talk about at the office; the company’s finances, my parents’ deaths and my grandma’s condition, so he immediately knows that whatever it is, it’s serious.

“Sure. Let’s head out,” he tells me, pulling away from me so he can grab his coat.

He takes my hand and leads me from the office. We don’t talk on the way down in the lift or when we walk through the carpark to his car. It’s only when we’re in the safety of his vehicle that he turns to me, his eyes concerned.

“Are you alright?”

“It’s been a stressful day,” I tell him honestly, trying to put off the moment when I have to bring up the case file for as long as possible.

He doesn’t look convinced as he says, “tell me about it.”

“Lewis Artie is a right piece of work,” I say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Tell me something I don’t already know.”

I tell him all about some of the businesses that Lewis has scammed. I tell him about the little old lady that had her table design stolen and the two kids who believed that Lewis would help them set up a business for themselves. I tell him everything the lawyers have told me today but it does nothing to ease my discord.

Noah whistles a low tone, as he turns the car around the corner before parking up outside my apartment building.

“That’s pretty low,” he says, turning off the engine, “but you didn’t come to ask for my help with Lewis.”

That’s the thing about Noah Grisham. Nothing gets past him.

“You’re more than competent,” he continues. “You’ll manage him spectacularly. Personally, I’m just hoping I get to witness it.”

I’m quiet. It feels like telling Noah that I visited the police station will make the whole thing feel realer somehow.

“What’s going on, Eden?” he asks eventually, when his patience begins to wear.

“Let’s go inside,” I say instead of answering him and the look in his eyes tells me he isn’t happy that I’m evading his question but he climbs out of the car regardless.

We don’t talk at all. There’s a weird tension between us as if he expects me to tell him something horrible. That combined with my own nerves makes this whole thing harder than it should be. We’re just going to look over an old police file. It shouldn’t be a big deal, except it is. It’s my parents’ case file and I really don’t want to even open it.

I unlock the door to my apartment and my fingers shake slightly around the key. Trying to hide my nervousness, I step aside to let him in.

“What’s this all about, Eden?” he demands in that bossy voice of his that used to irritate the hell out of me when I first met him.

“I need your help,” I say, closing the door behind me before rummaging in my bag for the case file.

“Yeah, I know. You said that already.”

His arms are crossed and there’s a tick over in his cheek where he’s biting it, probably fighting his natural inclination to argue with me.

“I went to the police station.”