The Other Side of Greed (The Seven Sins #5) - Lily Zante Page 0,80

is mischief in her eyes. I shift uneasily.

Does she know about me?

I can’t go. I dare not show my face there. Neville is getting antsy about me not moving forward but I’m now facing a problem I thought I’d never have: Kyra is thinking about moving, only now I don’t want her to.

She should stay, prosper here, and carry out her vision. I won’t get in her way.

“I can’t.” I press my lips, trying to read her expression and figure out how much she hates me.

“Of course you can’t.” Her tone is mocking. “You couldn’t attend Eli’s city hall event, and you can’t come to this. Who are you hiding from, Brad?”

I clench down on my teeth, wondering if she is testing me, wondering if she knows who I am and what I’m up to. “I have things to do.”

“You always have things to do,” Kyra throws back.

“I need to visit the men’s room,” Fredrich mutters before making a hasty exit.

“I can explain—” She’s angry about me leaving her when we were about to get intimate. That’s unforgiveable, and I should be grateful that she’s at least talking to me, even if she’s furious.

“Was Emma okay?” Her tone switches in an instant.

I nod. “She’s fine.”

“What was the urgency?”

How do I tell her that my PA doesn’t want to come back to work for me? Answering that question means I’ll have to answer all the others; questions that Kyra probably doesn’t even have yet.

“She … uh …” I’m flummoxed as to what to say. Kyra’s cold fury doesn’t help.

“Where was it that you worked?” she asks, completely throwing me off course.

“Excuse me?”

“Where was it that you worked?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

My brows lift. My heart splutters. “When?” I’m trying to buy myself some time.

She suspects.

“When you went abroad, to work on the community project. Where was that?”

I stare at her in complete confusion. Why is she asking me this? Before I can reply, she asks, “Or did you not work anywhere at all?” Her cold, hard words land on me like icepicks.

I manage to retrieve the information I think she wants. “Ecuador.”

She smiles. “Ecuador. Is that your final answer? Or do you want to call someone to verify that?”

Simona steps inside just then, and Kyra stands up and starts to get her things together. Fredrich returns, eyeing the two of us as if we’re rabid dogs.

“Are you coming to the meeting with us?” Simona asks me.

“He’s busy and he has other plans,” Kyra replies before I can say a word.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

KYRA

We bundle inside a small civic hall. Loud indignant chatter fills the already heated atmosphere. The meeting is loud and noisy.

I’m sitting at the front with the a few elected committee members and the chairperson, a scrawny older woman with angular bones and reading glasses that keep slipping down her oily nose. I wasn’t eager about doing this role, because I am already busy enough, but I was hounded into it, partly by Simona and then seconded by Fredrich, since so many of the business owners kept asking me to speak up for them on their behalf.

But since my passion is Redhill, and I became aware early on that there were attempts to get us to relocate, I agreed to be a voice for this group. It’s still something I’m passionate about.

The chairwoman brings up the most recent complaint from the city about the food nights turning Greenways into a place which encourages homeless people. “They seem to be going for you,” she says, passing me a letter. “I expect you’ll be getting one soon.”

I scan it quickly. The city officials are claiming that we—as in Redhill—are encouraging homeless people to sleep in nearby streets due to our weekly food nights. The chairwoman reads out from a copy in her hands for the benefit of everyone else. “While the work that Redhill does is commendable, the food night program is making it a haven for homeless people. The buildings are attracting crime and drug addicts, and this does not bode well for the reputation of the area.”

I slam the letter down in shock. This isn’t a new complaint. Every so often we get letters like this. Maybe we did receive this. I need to check because I seem to be getting more careless with things that need my attention.

“I disagree,” I say and a chorus of agreement erupts. Some of the people might linger around while they eat, but everyone leaves by the end of the evening. When we head back to the