Vodka Espresso

19. deal

He waited for a few seconds outside her door after she shut it. To get used to the dark, for one. For another, to wonder whether Ingrid's stunt had been worth it and what the best course of action would be should Ingrid, God forbid, fail to fix it.

Edgar climbed slowly downstairs, hands in the pockets of his shorts. Patrick's outburst was still so vivid in his ears. He'd yelled about how kind he'd been to Edgar and Ingrid, and how they'd stabbed him in the back over it.

"Patrick, hold on, hold up – what are you talking about?"

Edgar had just put the grocery bags down. His phone had been buzzing in his pocket for a while, but he'd had his hands full.

"Where is my wife?!" Patrick demanded, loudly.

Edgar gulped, a cold trickle freezing his spine. "Patrick, I don't – "

"Oh, don't be daft! I let you into my house, into my home, and you betrayed me! You spewed poison into my wife's ears and stole her from me!"

Edgar couldn't help noticing how Patrick referred to his wife as if she was just another one of his possessions and he felt damn glad Ingrid had 'stolen' Sienna.

"That's a very serious accusation, Patrick."

"It's not just an accusation, Ian. I have proof."

"What sort of proof?"

"That your little whore kidnapped – "

"That's quite enough of that," Edgar said sharply, "I will not tolerate such language."

Patrick laughed. "Oh, yeah? Then tolerate your beer without my money! The deal is over, you'll hear from my lawyer next!"

On that note, Patrick had hung up and left Edgar hanging. His first instinct had been to call Ingrid for clarifications and he'd imagined they'd sort things out together before the deadline he'd given her. Amongst themselves before anyone realised anything was wrong.

Except Evans had moved way too fucking fast and the Brennan board knew all about it within the hour. Edgar was now caught between a rock and a hard place. A part of him trusted Ingrid to indeed fix it. A piece of him had unshakeable doubts. And yet another felt grateful that she'd forced him to stay home.

If this 'proof' that Patrick had mentioned had shown Edgar on it, the deal would have been doomed for good and his Bavarian brewery along with it. Hell, maybe even his job. As it was, they still had a shot at redemption. Ingrid could still work her magic and turn shit back into gold.

*

"I've got your list," Agata was saying over the phone, "though, frankly, I think you'll need just the one name. Has the e-mail come through?"

It had and Ingrid was scrolling through the list. Her cursor froze on the row highlighted in yellow.

"AG, you're a fucking genius!" Ingrid exclaimed. "How the fuck did you manage to get that?"

"A mutual acquaintance, let's just say. A... very independent artist, whom we're both close to."

Ingrid gaped at her laptop, her blank gaze staring beyond the screen. "No fucking way..."

Agata made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. "I know, right? Well, hope this helps. I'll turn in now, early start tomorrow."

"I owe you one, AG."

"Yeah, on top of all the others."

Ingrid smiled quietly to herself. "Did you speak to Freddie, by the way?"