Just Friends (The Agency Book 1)

by Elizabeth Grey

  “Are you sleeping with him?”

  “What?”

  “I’m only asking because I can’t think of any other good reason why you’d confide anything in that animal.” He makes eye contact at last, and I notice a purple-grey bruise across his cheekbone. I feel responsible. Again.

  “The answer is no, Malcolm. We are not sleeping together.”

  “Fine. One last question – do you feel guilty about what you did?”

  “What I did?”

  “Yes. How many people do you think are lurking in the shadows, waiting to stick the knife into me now, because of you? I could handle Ridley Gates. But Stella Judd? She’s a viper. She destroys anyone who crosses her. Don’t think for one second you’re exempt. Or Fraser. Oh, and don’t think I don’t know about you downloading every file you could get your hands on today. Why are you doing this? I’ve always been good to you, haven’t I?”

  “It’s not about you. I’ve worked with Ethan for three years and you fired him, so I have to go with him. And Ridley has made it impossible for me to stay.”

  “Really?” Malcolm’s shoulders roll back and he sits back in his seat, his grey eyes lit up with curiosity. “What has Ridley done now?”

  “Let’s just say he has a talent for blackmail.”

  “Oh? What have you done to make him blackmail you?”

  “Nothing, except know about you!” I shout. Malcolm looks shocked by my outburst, so I take a deep breath and proceed as planned. “Ridley said he’d leave you alone if I slept with him.”

  He looks horrified. I think. “Did you?”

  “What? No! How can you even think I’d do that?” Ew. How the hell do I blank that vision out?

  “So that’s why Ethan went after him?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  He sighs deeply and his neck skin quivers against his collar. “I’m sorry. I doubt Fraser would want his job back now, so what’s done is done. I’ll just sit here and wait for the wolves to pounce.”

  “That’s why I’m giving you this.” I pass him the envelope filled with information. “This is only a tenth of what I have, but it’s more than enough for you to keep the wolves from your door. For good.”

  He holds the document in his hand, not knowing quite what to make of it. “Thank you.”

  “I’m truly sorry for what’s happened, Malcolm, and I wish you and Emily and all of your family well. I’ll keep in touch.”

  He smiles faintly, but says nothing as I leave.

  ***

  It’s late as I make my way to the lobby with an enormous box containing mine and Ethan’s belongings. I’m just about to press the button for the lift when that godawful thing I suspected would happen at some point during the day finally happens: I come face to face with Ridley Gates.

  “Do you need any help?” he asks in his gut-wrenchingly slimy voice, eyeing the box I’m struggling to carry.

  “I’m fine,” I say, resting the box on the floor for a moment so I can stretch my fingers out in an attempt to get some feeling back into them.

  “What’s in the box?”

  “Mine and Ethan’s things.” I look at him with disgust, but I feel a swell of satisfaction as I tally up the purple bruises and swollen cuts on his face. He definitely came off worse than Ethan.

  “Well, I’ll need to have a look inside to make sure you’re not taking anything out of here that you shouldn’t.”

  “Go to hell, Ridley.”

  He laughs and I want to colour his face even more purple than it already is. “Now, now. Is that any way to talk to one of your executive directors?”

  I raise my voice and look him square in the eye. “I’ve just resigned my position. You’re not my anything.”

  “Oh, I see. You’re jumping ship too. Of course you are. I’d have bet good money on you running after Fraser like a bitch in heat.”

  I don’t acknowledge him.

  “Open the box.”

  I bang the lift button and pick up the box again. “Go. To. Hell.” I repeat. My stomach lurches as I hear his creepy laugh.

  “That’s all you’ve got to say? Alright then, you can listen.” He comes up behind me. He’s so close I can feel his breath warming the back of my neck, and it’s all I can do not to turn around and drop the heavier-than-a-baby-elephant box on his foot. “So what’s Fraser got that I haven’t?”

  “Ethan is my friend,” I say wearily. I am so tired of his games.

  “Well in that case, I’m pleased you’ve got a grip on reality.”

  “Excuse me?” I say and already wish I hadn’t. Why am I even engaging with him?

  He leans in closer and whispers in my ear. “Carly was a slut and everyone knew it. I fucked her because she was easy. She’d spread her legs at the slightest whiff of cock – any cock.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “I am, and so is Ethan Fraser. If you want him to fuck you, just spread your legs for him and he’ll come running. Spread your legs for me and I’ll come running too. You’d be a nice upgrade after Carly.”

  I close my eyes in revulsion, then I take a deep breath and speak with as much confidence as I can muster. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about September 2008 recently.”

  “What?” he says, sounding genuinely puzzled.

  I stare at the lift doors, willing them to open. “September 2008. You billed Ellis Industrial an extra ten thousand pounds over budget and spent the difference entertaining god knows who.”

  “That’s bullshit.” He laughs, but I can see the anxiety start to build in his eyes, so I continue.

  “March 2010, you paid a member of parliament a five-figure sum to lobby for your client Stennis Smith. August 2009, you paid Hilary McKinney yet another five-figure sum to drop the sexual harassment charges she made against you. You did the same for Sarah Cole in February 2012. October 2011, you overcharged Handy Industries over five different accounts, and . . . where did that money end up?”

  I turn to face him. He’s a shadow of his usual sneering slimeball self, his skin pale and drained of blood. “You can’t prove any of that.”

  Revulsion burns throughout my body, but I keep my eyes trained on the lift doors and watch the electronic counter on the wall tell me my sanctuary is currently an alarming seven floors away. “I can and I will.”

  I’m still looking ahead, my heart racing, when I feel his body pressing up against mine. I manage to squirm away from him without dropping the box on my own feet, but he’s back on me straight away, his chest pushed up against my back and his arm clutching my elbow.

  “You’re playing with fire. It would be such a shame if you got burned.” He grips my arm tighter and sweeps my hair to one side, placing his mouth close to my ear. “Become a problem for me and I’ll finish you.”

  I inhale a deep breath and steel myself. “I’m not afraid of you, Ridley. I’ve just left a copy of the Ellis Industrial file with Malcolm, so you won’t be blackmailing him anymore. I have another nine files in my possession – I can keep them, or I can send them to Delfina, or I can send them to the board of directors. It’s entirely up to you how you want to play this.”

  And then the lift doors open.

  And Max almost walks into me, grabbing hold of the box as I stumble.

  I do my best to try to hide it, but my arms are shaking and I know my face is burning. Max offers to carry the box downstairs for me, but then he stops dead in his tracks, looking both of us over as his green eyes grow wider and wider. I can see the penny drop in agonisingly painful slow motion, and there’s nothing I can do to draw him off the scent.

  “What the hell just happened here?” The pupils of his eyes are angry black pinholes, and I know we’re counting down to blast off.

  “Just having a quiet word with Miss Archer before she leaves for the evening, Adolf,” Ridley says with a smirk.

  “What the hell did you just call me?” Max yells at Ridley’s retreating frame. “That’s right, walk away from me, you racist piece of shit!�
�

  “Just let him go,” I plead. I don’t want a repeat of yesterday. I don’t want punches to be thrown. I just want him gone. Forever. I never want to have to look at his face ever again.

  “And for your fucking information, you greasy-headed cocksplat, I’m fucking German! Adolf Hitler was Austrian. Germany and Austria are two different countries!”

  I would laugh if I could.

  Honestly, I would.

  25

  THE RIP OFF TAXI FARE from the City to my flat is the final nail in the coffin of my day. Forty-five flaming pounds! It’s usually thirty – thirty-five tops – but forty-five? I push my debit card into the payment machine and shoot the driver a look that could curdle milk. I’ve lived in Kilburn for two and a half years now, so I know he took more than a couple of lengthy diversions. Plus, there’s practically a monsoon outside and he’s stopped halfway up my street claiming it’s the best spot to make a U-turn.

  I snap my card back out of the machine, yank the taxi door open and pull my plastic box of belongings across the floor, snagging a fingernail in the process – the final of final straws.

  “Don’t help me with this, whatever you do,” I bark at the taxi driver.

  “Not my job, love. I charge for the ride, that’s it. Plus it’s pissing down.”

  “You charge for the longest, most convoluted ride possible, you mean. Think of that extra fifteen pounds you conned me out of as your tip for doing nothing.”

  “My pleasure, love. Hope you’ve still got enough money in your bank account for tampons, because it sounds like your time of the month is on the way.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me. Hormonal, are we?” I lift the box and start walking, leaving the taxi door open. I hear the driver muttering away to himself as he’s forced to get out of his vehicle. “Get fired today, did you? Boyfriend dump you, did he? You need to take a chill pill, sweetheart.”

  I spin around intending to flip him the bird, but thanks to the stupid box the only thing I can do is yell, “Go fuck yourself, you turgid bag of putrid flesh!”

  Jesus, what’s happened to my mouth?

  The cabbie slams the taxi door shut and drives off, beeping his horn as he passes me. What a bellend. And could the universe be any crueller? I’m probably in the process of ruining my life, so serving me up a dollop of maggot-infested taxi-nightmare shit is the icing on the cake.

  The rain gets heavier as I approach the entrance to my building. I try to walk quickly, but the box is too heavy. Who’d have thought the contents of mine and Ethan’s desk drawers weighed more than an Olympic heavyweight boxer? My hands are already red raw and slippery, so I’m worried about dropping the damn thing. A plastic box full of crap landing on my foot would be a fitting end to my day.

  I have to stop a few feet from the door. My arms feel like they’re strapped to a medieval torture device. I put the box on the ground and rub away the pain in my hands. There are deep concertina ridges in my fingers, and two of them are entirely numb.

  “Need a hand?”

  My heart leaps into my mouth as a shrouded figure appears from nowhere, his hands hidden deep in the pockets of a black hooded top. In the space of one second, my shock is replaced by panic, then by rage as I recognise the idiot standing in front of me.

  “Ethan! For fuck’s sake, have you lost your mind?” I gasp into the drizzly night air as I clutch my chest. I’d be having a heart attack if my heart wasn’t broken already. An irritating laugh rumbles in his throat, and it’s a good thing my fingers are crushed otherwise I’d be slapping him across his stupid face.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Jumping out at women whilst being dressed like a rapist tends to have that effect.” My heart rate starts to slow, but my temper continues to rise. I rub my fingers one last time and pick up the plastic tomb of death again.

  “I was standing in the doorway because it’s raining.”

  “How long have you been waiting?”

  He looks at his watch and shrugs. “Almost two hours.”

  Shit, he’s lost it. “Why?”

  “I needed to see you.”

  “You could have called, texted, rung the office . . .”

  “I needed to get my head straight, so I didn’t mind waiting.”

  “In this weather? You’re mad.” The rain beats down so hard it splashes up the backs of my legs. I put the box down on the pavement.

  “What’s in the box?”

  Surely he knows? I search his face again and I can’t tell if he does or not. The rain is running down his cheeks, and his hood is soaked through. I can’t even see his eyes properly because it’s getting dark and the amber light from the streetlamp overhead is casting wild shadows. “Our stuff.”

  “Ours?”

  “Yes, I resigned tonight.”

  He stares at me open-mouthed as the rain pours down his face. “Really? You’re coming to Tribe? That’s awesome!”

  “I said I resigned, but I’m still not sure if Tribe’s going to be good for me.” I watch his excitement fade in an instant, but although my heart is aching, I need to do what’s best for me – whatever that is. “Look, you know me, Ethan. I’m great working on my own. I can work with you, but other people? Leading a team of people? That’s not going to end well. I love copywriting. I’ve never wanted to be a manager or a partner – that’s your ambition. It’s just . . . I’m still not sure, so I’ve talked with Naomi Linus at TalentNetwork and she’s going to put out some feelers—”

  “What? I can’t believe you’re telling me this. Violet, please. You know I need you.”

  My eyes fill up, and I’m happy with the rainstorm because it’s helping to hide my tears. “I know you think you need me.”

  “Violet. I need you. If it’s the job, you don’t have to be creative director. I’ll back you in any position you want. You can stay as a copywriter – whatever it takes. Is that all you’re worried about?”

  “No, I suppose . . . it’s not . . .” I bite my lip as the tears escape. I raise my face to the night sky and let the rain disguise my weakness.” You can’t move a mountain if you just sit on your arse staring at the fucking thing . . . “It’s about us too, Ethan. When you told me about Tribe, you told me we had to forget what’s happening between us in the exact same breath. That gave me the answer to every question I could ever have asked about you and your priorities. I can’t go to Tribe knowing that you—”

  “Violet, listen to me!” I suck in a breath at the sharpness of his interruption. “Okay, I’ll admit, I did this. I made things change between us and I fucked up. That’s what I do – fuck up every single good thing in my life. When Stella told me there could be no ‘us’ if we worked together, there was nothing I could do. What do you want me to do?”

  “This isn’t about Stella, Ethan. This is about us. And since when does Stella Judd mean more to you than I do?”

  “Since she’s my boss.”

  “She’s your partner, not your bloody boss! And I’m supposed to be your friend. Your soulmate, remember?”

  He turns away. His trainers squelch as he walks over to the brick wall of my building and rests his frame against it. He looks to the sky as silver rain lit up by a streetlamp falls onto his skin. I start to walk away, tired of not getting a straight answer.

  “Are you in love with me?”

  His question stops me dead in my tracks. My pulse races, beating in unison with the rain and the sound of traffic swishing through puddles on the roads. “You know the answer.”

  He comes up behind me and I shiver as I feel my cold wet cotton skirt cling to my legs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know for sure.”

  My stomach dies. It doesn’t flip, lurch, sink or roll. It just dies. I know what comes next. I’ve heard it in my own head a million times, so I know the game is over and the count is in. Now would be the time to follow Max’s advice and fight for him. I want to make the words tumble out of my mouth, and I want them t
o be brave and I want them to be honest and I want them to be beautiful. What do I have to lose now?

  “I know you want us to stay as friends, and that’s okay. I certainly didn’t want to fall in love with you. I didn’t want any of this. It started to happen that night at the AdAg Awards and I tried to stop it . . . I promise I tried so hard . . . because it frightened me so much. I know this isn’t fair saying all of this to you now, but I need you to know that I didn’t choose to feel this way. And I wish we could go back to the way things were, but we can’t.”

  I leave him standing speechless as I walk away.

  ***

  I don’t expect him to follow me.

  Whenever something major rocks Ethan’s world, he goes into hiding and replaces the drama with silence until his brain is ready to come out the other side. I might hear from him in a week.

  I practically hurl the plastic box to the floor as I reach my front door. I turn the key and kick the box into my hall, not giving a shit about the mail that gets shredded in the process.

  But then he’s there, behind me in the doorway. He lowers his hood and ruffles his hair, shaking off the water. His face is pale and his muscles are tense, yet he’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. And I wish I hadn’t told him. A minute ago, I didn’t care. But now as I watch him take strained breaths, his mouth opening and closing as he stops himself from saying whatever is on his mind, I wish I could erase it all. I wish I could break out a DeLorean and go literally anywhere in space and time to avoid having to talk about how I feel.

  I pull my hair over my shoulder and wring the dampness out. My top is sticking to my body and I know I’m soaked through to my underwear. It reminds me of those horrendous swimming lessons at school when Sister Annalise insisted retrieving a brick from a swimming pool floor whilst wearing pyjamas was a life skill everybody needed to master. Twenty years later, I’m still waiting for a real-world opportunity to rescue a brick from a pond.

  “Why are you here, Ethan?”

  “I’m not going anywhere until we talk about this. We’re going to talk all night if we have to.”