Unable to look at the accusation in his face any longer, Kit moved to pick up the box, opening its lid, the tears welling up as she looked at its contents: the fluffy yellow toy chick that had resided on top of her computer screen, her collection of pens—including the pot she kept them in!—that had stood on top of her desk, and lastly the card that had accompanied some flowers Marcus had sent to her a couple of months ago after he had concluded a very successful business deal, claiming her hard work had contributed immensely to that success. ‘With many thanks, Marcus Maitland’, the card read—as if she knew anyone else called Marcus, anyway!
‘Nothing of any importance,’ he had commented about the contents of the box. And perhaps to him that card wasn’t important, just a thank you to an employee for a job well done, but Kit had kept it for secret sentimental reasons: it was something that Marcus had sent to her.
As she looked at it now that card brought her only pain.
The hand holding that card trembled slightly as she looked up at him. ‘Didn’t this mean anything to you?’
‘Catherine Grainger wasn’t involved in that particular deal. As you well know.’
Grainger International had never been interested in the acquisition of hotels, and this particular deal had involved Marcus buying a small chain of them, very exclusive, very up-market.
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