by Nana Malone
Selena wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping that night. Nick lay awake in bed, sirens wailing in the distance, and voices audible from the street below as drinkers made their way home from the bar around the corner. He stuffed some foam earplugs in to drown out the sounds, but it didn’t help—he was still taunted by the noise of his inner thoughts and they were far more agonizing than sirens and shouting.
He knew something was up. Selena was avoiding him. Did she know? He felt like a prize prick, especially after getting another shot at things with her and accepting that he was actually falling for her. She was on his mind night and day. He wanted to taste and smell her right then and there. She felt thrilling and homely at the same time. With her was the only place he wanted to be.
He’d tried to tell her last night. But then she’d reached for him and he’d been too afraid of losing her. He was a fool to think he could salvage this. The truth was going to tear them apart. But what choice did he have? He wanted to be with her and he couldn’t go on like this. He had to tell her.
He got out of bed and dragged the red velvet blanket off the sofa and brought it back to the bedroom. He could still smell her perfume on it. He kicked off his bed covers and pulled the blanket over his body instead, letting the soft velvet massage his skin and the faint scent of Chanel Mademoiselle send him off to sleep, forgetting that his brief chance at finding bliss in Selena was potentially over.
39
Selena’s driver arrived at 6 AM, as arranged. She’d hardly slept, but that made it far easier to get up and into action this early, so it hardly mattered.
“’Tis very early, Miss Day. Have you a big meeting today?” Jacek asked as he wove through the city streets, which were only just coming to life. The tall buildings cast cool grey shadows over the streets as the sun struggled to rise above the roofs. Cars were zipping about freely, enjoying the fluid motion before rush hour, and a handful of workers in factory uniforms were walking together, chatting and smoking.
“Yes,” she replied, with a stiff smile. “Lots to do.”
The cleaners were there, giving her a surprised hello as she passed them on her way to the elevator. When she entered the darkened open plan office where Nick’s desk was, her heart raced. Should she switch on the lights or would that be a schoolgirl error, alerting anyone passing in the corridor to her mission? She switched on just one row of lights, enough to take away the risk of tripping—the last thing she needed was to be discovered passed out from tripping on a chair leg and hitting the deck, clutching Nick’s personal login details.
She sat at his desk, her heart pounding so hard she was aware of the sound of her pulse in her ears. She took a few deep breaths and typed in his username and password.
Please make him be innocent. Please don’t let him be Simon’s plant.
His monitor flickered as it loaded the Shades of Chic logo and after a few moments, as Selena held her breath, the icons all began to pop up on the left hand side. She let out a long, slow, breath, rubbed her palms together and then began clicking through folders until she came across a file called ‘Ideas for feedback’, which screamed ‘dodgy.’ Ideas were nothing to do with Nick’s job at Shades of Chic. She opened the file to find several saved PDF files. She opened them one after the other, her face twisting in confusion with each one.
She read, ‘Paris-inspired line. Bring the City of Lights to the UK’.
What the hell is that about?
She examined the virtual mood board he’d created with images of Parisian women and fancy French townhouses, coffees, cocktails and a couple riding a moped. The tagline at the bottom read, ‘Bring all these elements together with a new line of make-up called ‘A Chante.’
She sat back and bit her index finger. It tied in with Simon’s new line, that’s for sure. It fingered Nick as guilty. But it was also a bit odd—he had gone to a lot of effort on something brand new. She hit ‘print’ and listened as the machine warmed up and spewed out the files in the otherwise silent office.
She made sure to close everything back down and left his chair tucked in the way it had been before leaving the building and heading straight for the nearest caffeine fix. Only a double espresso would help clear her foggy mind at this hour.
Nick’s tired body was heavy as he trudged his way into the office that morning. If she would just reply to one text he could rest. All he wanted to know was that she was still his. He could handle her being busy, she was the CEO for Christ’s sake, he didn’t expect her to suddenly have oodles of spare time to spend with him. Hell, he was busy too, but somehow nothing felt right, and productivity levels would remain abysmal, unless he knew things were still on track with Selena.
He reached his desk and pulled out the chair to sit down, but stopped when something shiny caught his eye. On the pad of the seat was a pen lid, silver inside, pale pink enamel on the outside. It definitely wasn’t his. It was girly. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger in thought. Nancy came in, carrying a basket of muffins and hollering a cheery hello to the few people who were already there.
Nick walked over to her desk, still rolling the lid. “Morning, Nancy.”
“Morning, Nick, would you like a blueberry bun? I made them last night but I’ll just eat too much if I keep them at home. I’m trying to lose a few pounds for going on Holiday in a month.” She patted her round tummy and rolled her eyes.
“No thanks,” Nick said, before opening his palm and asking, “Is this yours?”
“No, not mine,” Nancy said breezily as she unpacked her belongings, setting out her diary, cell phone and several bags of ‘low fat’ crisps. “I think that’s Selena’s. She always uses really nice pens.”
He pulled a fist, locking the pen lid inside it and nodding his head.
Nancy’s face suddenly changed. “Leave it on my desk. I’ll give it to her later. I have to give her a rundown of yesterday anyway.”
Nick stood, motionless, on the spot, his fist still tight.
Nancy’s eyebrows rose and she pointed to her desk. “Honestly, Nick, it’s no trouble. Give it to me,” she added, almost gritting her teeth towards the end of the sentence.
Nick sighed and dropped the lid on Nancy’s desk. There went his one chance to approach Selena for a bit of face-to-face contact. “Thanks,” he said before turning and walking back to his desk with a frown.
He sat down and reached instinctively with his right hand for the computer mouse, but found it was much closer to the keyboard than normal. The cleaners rarely moved things on his desk. Things didn’t feel right. Had someone been tampering with his desk, or computer? Nick’s blood ran cold at the realization of what must have gone down. Shit. Selena’s been here. On my computer. She’s smart, Nick, of course she worked it out. She won’t understand. She’ll bloody despise you. It’s over here. It’s over with her. Shit, shit, shit.
He strode towards the men’s room, heart pounding, and head lowered with purpose.
He paced back and forth along the cubicles, desperately trying to think of ways to explain this to her. He needed to show her he was trying so hard to do the right thing by everyone. That’s never going to work. You got involved with the person she hates the most.
He dialed his brother’s number.
“Chris, go somewhere safe and keep your head down for a while. The deal’s off. I can’t cover for you anymore.” He hung up before his brother could even stutter a response.
He exhaled slowly, drawing his hands down his cheeks. I need to make things right with Selena. I’ll do whatever it takes to make her trust me.
He marched back to his desk where he sat moving the mouse fruitlessly, unable to concentrate on even the smallest task. He needed to see her. He needed to fix this.
She must have come in when he was in a blur of self-loathing in the men’s room, because his desk phoned buzzed, flashing the number from her office. Rather than the surge of lust that usually shot through him when he saw those numbers appear, this time a feeling of dread
kicked his gut.
“Morning,” he said into the receiver, holding his breath as his heart quickened.
“Get in here,” was all she said. Her cool tone had his gut curling in on itself.
Time to face up to this shit.
His mouth was suddenly dry as the desert as he opened the door to her office and entered. Selena sat at her desk, arms spread with palms face down on the desk.
“Sit down,” she ordered.
He silently did as he was told, swallowing hard. She was pissed, and so goddamned beautiful it hurt.
She opened a drawer and threw a pile of A4 sheets on the desk, but said nothing. He could feel her eyes burning into him. She crossed her legs and leaned back in her seat. “Explain.”
His mouth dropped open but words had deserted him. “I, I…”
“Just tell the truth, Nick. What the hell have you been up to? With Simon,” she said, her voice calm and measured, but twisting into bitterness on the word Simon.
She’d seen the plans he’d made up. The work to extend the Paris line. She didn’t know. But he couldn’t lie anymore. Nick swallowed hard. “This has nothing to do with Simon. I had an idea for how we could extend the work we did in Paris. I was planning on showing these to you after I fleshed them out some more.”
He watched as her body sagged and steeled himself. He couldn’t be with her. Not like this. Not with the lie hanging between them.
He leaned forward, balancing his weight on the edge of his seat. “But I do know Simon. He approached me a while ago asking me to spy on you for him. I didn’t want anything to do with him,” he whispered. “I tried to stop him more than once, but I couldn’t.”
She narrowed her eyes, aiming right into his soul. “Money. How much did he pay you? It always comes down to money,” she said, her voice cutting through him like a freshly sharpened blade. “I thought there was more to you than that.”
“I didn’t do it for money. My brother was in trouble. That’s why I did this. I tried to find every other way so I didn’t hurt you. I even gave him false information. I never meant to hurt you.”
Selena dropped her gaze to the papers. Her lips were tight as she sighed. “Why?”
His body ached with the need to hold her. But he knew he’d never hold her again. “Why what?”
“Why didn’t you give him everything you had?”
He tipped his chin up. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I just want you to know, I never gave away what Shades of Chic was actually doing,” he said, “I made things up to keep him as far away from you as possible.”
“How noble of you,” sarcasm dripped from each word. “Did you at least pay off your brother’s debts with this? After all, you basically prostituted yourself. It should have been worth it.”
He winced and then took in a deep, long breath. “No. I’ll find another way. It wasn’t worth it to hurt you.”
Selena clasped her hands together over her mouth and sighed. “How much do you need?”
His gaze snapped to hers. “When are you going to realize I don’t want anything from you? I stopped this job days ago. I told him I wouldn’t work for him anymore.” He pushed himself to standing. “I never meant to care about you. But I did. I fell for you. I fucking love you. I don’t want your money.”
Her lip trembled. “I wish I could believe you.”
40
Selena wished to God she’d never heard of Nick. But she wanted him to get his money’s worth. After all, he’d been paid to sleep with her. Hadn’t he? His words still rang in her head like a bell and her brain forced the words to the back of her mind. She was not going to fall for it. She’d made enough mistakes.
But one thing she did do was add a bonus to his severance check. She wanted to release him from her thoughts and this was the only way that was going to happen. The moment she sent the authorization she pulled on her coat, told Nancy she felt ill and deserted. Yeah, she was running. So what? She needed out of there.
She was dizzy with anger. She was on the verge of tears or punching something—and flitting between the two moods at the change of every minute on the clock. Meetings and video conference calls would probably end in smashed screens or humiliating outbursts of sobbing. Stealing herself away was the best, safest option to maintain her reputation as the stable and confident woman at the top. No one should see her crumble. And all because of the men in her life—her brother and the man she had fallen for, hook, line and sinker.
She knew what was called for—either getting blinding drunk or being waited on hand and foot. She stumbled out of the office block and onto the street, breathing heavily as her mind raced with bitter thoughts of betrayal. She couldn’t see straight and walked right into a sign at the edge of an elaborate hotel entrance. She rubbed her leg. Well, that was definitely going to become a bitch of a bruise. She glanced up and blinked to straighten her vision. The Savoy. This would do the job. Bring on the pampering.
Inside the spa, she slipped out of her work clothes and into a comforting, white, fluffy robe as she entered a warm, light room with a pungent aroma of lilac circling the walls.
“What can I do for you ma’am?” the small woman asked in a friendly oriental accent.
No words came. Selena’s face contorted into a mess of emotions as she burst the banks of her heartbreak with a tsunami of tears.
“Come, come,” soothed the woman, gesturing her to lie down. “Shhh now.”
Selena lay face down, her nose and eyes leaking liquid through the face hole in the massage table. The masseuse placed a white towel under the face hole and said, gently patting Selena’s shoulder, “Let it all out. It’s okay.”
And Selena did. She wept silently as the woman kneaded her tense body into submission, soothing her aches, apart from the one deep inside her that couldn’t be reached. She longed for it to melt away with the gentle punching and stretching going on across her back, but the gnawing pain remained. After an hour, Selena’s tears had dried up and she sat up on the bed to thank her masseuse. The gentle woman placed her finger on Selena’s lips. “No speak. Heal,” she said, to which Selena nodded obediently.
Next up was the Jacuzzi. She cried some more salty tears into the bubbling water before saying to a passing staff member, with a shaky voice, “Excuse me, do you think I could have a gin? A large one. Skip the tonic.”
She closed her eyes and let the gin and the hot bubbles soothe her cares. It was working. Or if not so much soothing, more forgetting. The pain was less obvious. She could do this. She would be able to march back into Shades of Chic and carry on where she had been before Nick had ever been part of her team. She had risen to success before him, she could continue it after him. He was a mere blip on her record, one that no one need ever know about. She knew Nancy had her suspicions that something had gone on—that very public confrontation at Soho House had been enough of a giveaway, but she knew Nancy would never bring it up. She could trust her. At least there was someone she could say that about.
That night Selena slept like a baby, or a drunken Uni student—and not in the imagined blissful way people talk about. She woke every couple of hours, crying and longing for someone to hold her. By morning, her eyes ached almost as much as the knot in her chest. But she pulled on her favourite grey dress, painted on the war paint, and went into work, striding with false confidence, avoiding eye contact with all staff. Her strength faltered slightly at the sight of Nick’s empty desk chair just as she reached her office door.
She swallowed the emotions down and took her place at the helm of the company to carry on. His resignation letter was neatly typed and on her desk. She sighed and sat down, holding on to the bit of paper, knowing that was the last nail in the coffin of what she had hoped would turn into her happy ever after. It was more like a disaster tale. The end of love. She stuffed it in the drawer quickly, and moved on to checking emails. Distraction would be her cure. From now on, she was all about work.
41
“I can’t believe
you’re back taking on more shifts here,” Chelsea said, excitement sparkling in her eyes. “Did you miss me too much?”
Nick laughed. “Yeah, that’s why I’m back. I missed you.”
He sighed and rubbed his palms on the sides of his black bar shirt, getting ready to go out and start the shift. His phone rang with an unknown number. He immediately answered it. He was still on high alert from the upheaval of the past few weeks.
“Nick Harvey?”
“Yes.”
“Hi Mr. Harvey, it’s the Bank of England here. It’s just a courtesy call to offer you the chance to move funds into a new savings account with us, as your records show a substantial amount of cash has been deposited to your account recently.”
“Really?” He scratched his head.
“Yes, from a source called, erm, Shades of Chic.”
His gut dropped. “I’ll just leave it for now, thank you,” he said before hanging up. He wouldn’t touch that cash. Every penny of it was grimy with the devastation of his relationship with Selena. It was the dirtiest cash. He had told her he didn’t want her money, but she obviously hadn’t believed him.
Chelsea butted back into his thoughts.
“I thought you were ditching us for good for some high-flying career with a supermodel girlfriend and fast cars,” Chelsea added, winking. “I’m glad you’ve come back down to reality.”
The word girlfriend tugged at Nick’s heart. He was trying to push Selena out of his mind. They were from different worlds, he reasoned, attempting to convince himself it would have never worked. Deep down he knew he could have given her everything she wanted if the whole underhanded project with Simon hadn’t shattered all their hopes. Selena never seemed to care about his lack of wealth. It wasn’t an issue to her. He could have worked his way up in business with her happily by his side supporting his dreams, and he would have been her rock, her protector. He knew that’s what money would never be able to buy her. It’s the one thing he could have given her. Even though it was pointless, he couldn’t help harbouring hopes that someday they would meet again, under better circumstances, and be able to act on all their desires to build a life together. That dream was so far off, though. Nick had to get his head down and finish his course. His whole future depended on it. And now that Chris had left London, he felt free. He vowed it was the last setback. He would never put his future at risk again for his brother’s mistakes. In the past it had cost him time and education. This time, it had cost him a shot at love. For that, he would never forgive his brother.