State We're In by Adele Parks Read Free Book Online

he would. She knew he was an aloof prick when it came to women and relationships, a classic love-’em-and-leave-’em type. Hopeful and hopeless women regularly turned up at the office pretending they were just passing (oh yeah, in their Christian Louboutin red heels – of course). They were hoping to have a word with him, maybe grab a sandwich lunch; Dean always told Lacey to get rid of them. Those were his words. Get rid of them. Lacey had made and cancelled enough dinner reservations on Dean’s behalf to know that he dated regularly. She’d frequently been sent out for a fresh shirt and therefore knew that he was stopping over regularly too, but never with the same woman, at least not for longer than a couple of weeks.
    Lacey hadn’t yet been able to work out exactly why an otherwise decent guy – seemingly intelligent and a good brother and uncle – would behave this way. It was 2005, for goodness’ sake; relentless variety was out of fashion and there was a trend in serious relationships. Didn’t Dean know this? The trashy reality shows repeatedly insisted that there was always a reason behind why an emotional cripple became an emotional cripple. Lacey was actually glad to hear this first hint at trauma in Dean’s life; she hadn’t wanted to believe her boss was simply a douche bag. There was a father issue and he’d admitted as much! Lacey felt that such a declaration was clearly a cry for help. A cry she was compelled and determined to answer. Despite her size, she was a force to be reckoned with.
    â€˜I’ve already told the CEO that you are going out to see Rogers. That he wants you to meet his international team. The flight is business class and on expenses. By way of a thank you, you could pick me up a bottle of L’Interdit by Givenchy in the duty-free store. It’s quite hard to come by over here.’
    In the end it had been easier to go along with Lacey’s plan, rather than unpick it. Dean’s CEO had been extremely excited that the chances of winning the pitch appeared so promising; Dean couldn’t find the energy to explain the reality.
    He’d had no intention of visiting his father. He thought that perhaps he would swing by and see Rogers. It couldn’t hurt. It might be the thing that would indeed clinch the deal; besides, he should cover his arse in case anyone ever checked up on him. He’d also go and see his sister, Zoe. That would be a treat. He’d look at this as a bonus break, a reward for the numerous late nights he’d clocked recently. He was not going to be burdened with grief or tempted by curiosity about a man he hadn’t see in twenty-nine years. Edward Taylor could go to hell. Most certainly he
was
going to hell, and he could go there without a final chat with Dean.
    And yet …
    Dean’s flight had arrived in the UK on time, he’d passed through immigration with unprecedented ease, there were no queues snaking the length of the concourse and then he’d caught a tube that effortlessly transported him into central London. He was surprised to discover that his hotel could accommodate an early check-in. He’d taken a shower and a walk to try to beat the jet lag that was likely to hijack later in the day. He’d set out aimlessly. Perhaps he’d drop by the smart Paul Smith store in Covent Garden, or maybe he’d grab a coffee and a croissant from Patisserie Valerie on Bedford Street. He’d had no intention of getting on a tube again, and certainly not pitching up at the hospital in Shepherd’s Bush.
    He’d been stunned to find himself outside the large red-brick building at ten in the morning, but told himself that just because he was there on the street didn’t mean he had to go in. He didn’t need to officially make himself into a visitor; he could remain a passer-by. Hospitals were like warrens anyway; it would probably be impossible to track down Eddie