Any Other Name (The Split Worlds) - By Emma Newman Page 0,37
the way she’d avoided any discussion about it but didn’t feel he had the right to complain. That chance had passed and he had to adapt, otherwise their marriage would totally fall apart.
Even though she was expecting him, Sam’s hand lingered just above the door. Should he pretend everything was fine or make it clear they needed to at least talk about the upheaval? Would she be cold and still angry with him about the way he’d ignored her calls whilst she’d been in Brussels? He couldn’t explain to her the reasons behind his recent absences, any more than he could to his boss. Perhaps it was better just to move forwards, rather than say anything that would prompt awkward questions he wouldn’t be able to answer.
He finally knocked on the door and Leanne opened it quickly, having been informed of his arrival by the concierge.
“This is a surprise,” she said, all smiles. “Couldn’t wait?”
“What do you mean?” he asked and pecked her on the cheek she angled towards him. Hardly the passionate kiss of a couple who hadn’t seen each other properly for what seemed like weeks.
“You were supposed to come tomorrow.”
“I was? You mean it’s Friday?”
She nodded. “You got the day off work?”
Now Sam understood why his boss had sounded so pissed off. He’d lost track of the days with all the trips to Exilium and missing a night’s sleep. “I’m lucky you’re home.”
Just the hallway said “wealthy executive apartment” with its shiny wooden floor and tiny halogen spotlights. It smelt faintly of paint, and the skirting boards looked like they were made of the same burnished copper. It was definitely Leanne’s territory and felt like a domestic annex to her professional life. It wasn’t the kind of place he could imagine himself living in at all.
“Marcus and I were nearby so we thought we’d come back here for a debrief instead of going all the way back to the office so late in the day. He wanted to make sure the apartment was OK.”
“Marcus is here?”
“Yeah, come through, I can’t wait to show you the place.”
Sam clenched his teeth and left his rucksack near the door. He hoped “debrief” wasn’t as literal as he feared. “I can come back later, if you’re working.”
“Don’t be silly, we’re just about finished anyway. What do you think of the building? Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Weird skirting boards though. I suppose it’s trendy or something.”
“Just wait till you see the view,” she said, her heels clipping on the floor as she went to the furthest door and opened it. “Come on.”
He closed the front door and followed her into a spacious open-plan living and dining room with the kitchen in the corner. Most of the wall in front of him was glass, allowing the panoramic view of the city to have the best impact.
“Wow,” he said after a few moments. “That’s cool.”
“Isn’t it beautiful? You can see the London Eye, the Houses of Parliament, and in the day it looks completely different again. I’ll never get bored of this view. Make yourself at home.” Leanne’s heels echoed in the large space. “I’ve just opened a bottle of wine, do you want some?”
Sam dropped onto the corner sofa. It was less squishy than he’d have liked. “Go on then.”
Leanne brought his glass of wine as he twisted the wedding band on his finger. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Ekstrand had reacted to it when he first met him, the way it had seemed to burn the Thorn brother’s hand. He was certain it had also helped him to escape Exilium. The ring itself didn’t seem anything special to him though. Perhaps the forge it was made in had something to do with all the weird shit.
“Love, do you remember who recommended that forge where we made our wedding rings? I was trying to remember the other day – a friend of mine wants to do the same thing.”
“It was me.” Her boss entered from the hallway. Sam hoped he’d been in the bathroom, rather than the bedroom.
“Marcus, this is Sam, as you know. Sam, meet Marcus.”
Sam had only ever seen Neugent at a distance, usually in a car, or spoken to him on the telephone. Up close, he was struck by how old he looked: mid-fifties at least. There was more grey than blonde in his hair and the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth calmed Sam's primal competitive streak. His eyes were such an intense cobalt blue Sam wondered if