A Wild Affair: A Novel

by Gemma Townley

  I looked at Max for encouragement, but he just looked away.

  Anthony grinned. “I'd forgotten how feisty you can be, Jess. You're looking great, by the way. My money obviously suits you.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Grace's money,” I said. “She left it to me, not you.”

  “A moot point.” Anthony stood up. “So come on, Maxy what's going on? Couldn't hack it at the top, huh? Not as easy as it looks? Look, don't feel bad. Leadership isn't easy.”

  I looked at Max, waiting for him to swipe back with a biting comment, but he didn't.

  “You know what?” he said after a long pause. “I think you're right. Anthony, it's all yours.”

  He walked toward the door. I watched him, mouth hanging open in shock. “But … But …,” I stammered.

  “Wait a minute,” Anthony said suddenly, pushing back his chair. “You can't just walk out. Max, wait.”

  “Please, Max,” I cried out. “Don't just go.”

  Max, who was at the door, turned around slowly and shook his head at me. “What is it, Anthony? Want me to remind you where the coffee machine is?”

  Anthony cleared his throat. “Look, I didn't mean … I'm sure you've been doing a great job, Maxy I was just joking around. Don't take things so seriously.”

  “Don't take things so seriously?” Max's eyes narrowed. “I take half our employees leaving very seriously. I take horrific headlines in Advertising Today very seriously, too. You're right. I failed, Anthony. And now I'm leaving.”

  “You didn't fail,” I said indignantly. “It wasn't you. It was … it was …”

  “It was me,” Max said levelly “I'm in charge. It's my fault.”

  “He's got a point,” Anthony said, shrugging.

  “So I hope you do better,” Max said, opening the door again.

  “Wait,” Anthony said quickly, standing up. “Wait, Max. I didn't mean that. Just couldn't resist … Look, you can't go. I haven't come back to run the place. I can't. I've got stuff to do. I … I'm sure it isn't as bad as all that. You've just had a bad few days.”

  “A bad few days?”

  “Well, okay, a shocking few days. But you're new to leadership, Max. You probably thought it was easy. And it isn't. So you're not a natural. It's okay. You'll learn. And I'd love to stay and teach you but I've got … you know, lunch to have, people to catch up with …”

  “You're not staying?” Max asked, staring at him intently. “You're definitely not staying?”

  “No!” Anthony said, shaking his head. “No, of course not. Like we agreed, Max, this is your company now.”

  “You're sure about that?”

  “Sure. What's left of it, anyway,” Anthony said, grinning. He caught Max's expression. “Joke, Max. It was a joke. You really must learn to lighten up.”

  Max's eyes were as dark as thunder; he didn't reply. Anthony walked toward him and gave me a little wave goodbye. “You didn't switch offices, I see,” he mused, looking around the room. “I don't suppose you'd mind if I camped in my old office? Just for a bit.”

  “Why?” Max asked.

  “Why? Oh, you know. Few loose ends. Could do with somewhere to park myself. And I could help you out a bit. You know …”

  “You said you weren't staying.”

  “And I'm not! I'm not, really. Just … you know. We could help each other out a bit. I want to set up something new. Could do with a base. And you look like you … well, I'd be happy to help. You know …”

  I looked at him curiously. “Anthony, you inherited a million pounds. And Max bought you out of the company for several hundred thousand. Can't you afford your own office?”

  “Sure I can,” Anthony said, not looking at me. “I mean, I could if I wanted to. If I … I just thought it would be nice, you know. Like old times.”

  “Old times?” I could see the muscles in Max's neck were tense. Then I realized that they weren't tensing; they were just moving with his jaw. Max was smiling. For the first time in ages, he was actually smiling. “You lost it all, didn't you? Didn't you?”

  Anthony looked away uncomfortably. “No. No I didn't.”

  “So you've got the money still?”

  Anthony pulled a face. “I made some investments that didn't exactly pan out,” he said. “But I'm going to turn it around. I just need to borrow some money, set myself up. It'll be great. It'll be more than great.”

  “You want to borrow money now? Anthony, have you not been listening to yourself? The firm's in trouble. There is no money.”

  “Maybe not,” Anthony said, fixing on me with a smile. “But Jess isn't short of a bob or two, is she? Come to think about it, why isn't she bailing you out? I thought the two of you were madly in love.”

  I caught a slight sneer on his lips and felt my stress level begin to rise.

  “That's the difference between you two,” I said tightly. “Max won't take my money.”

  “Won't he now?” Anthony said, shaking his head in sympathy. Then he grinned. “So you've still got it all then?”

  “Yes I have. And you're not getting a penny.”

  “What?” Anthony frowned. “You selfish brat. Come on, what are you going to do with it anyway? You owe it to me.”

  “She owes you nothing,” Max said, his voice low. “We owe you nothing, do you understand? I bought you out, I paid off your debts, and now you have to leave.”

  “But … but …” Anthony looked at him imploringly. “But I'm broke, Max. Completely broke. I've been wiped out. Marcia has no idea.”

  “Marcia? She's here with you?”

  Anthony shrugged. “Please, Max. For old times' sake. Come on, for your old mate Ant. What do you say?”

  “I say,” Max said slowly, “that you can have a job, if you want one.”

  “A job?” Anthony looked at him incredulously.

  “Take it or leave it. You work hard, you'll get paid. You get our clients back, you'll get a bonus. Understood?”

  “I don't want a bloody job. I'm not working for you, you … you …”

  “Then I'll see you around, Anthony.” Max held open the door.

  Anthony hesitated slightly. His expression was one of anguish. Eventually he sighed. “Will I have an expense account?”

  “A small one. Carefully monitored.”

  Anthony went silent again.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay you'll take it?”

  “Okay. But no one else knows I'm just an employee. And I want my old office back.”

  Max thought for a moment. “Deal.”

  “Great,” Anthony said, clapping him on the back. “Now, Jess, get me a cup of coffee, would you? You remember how I take it, right? Cream and sugar? You're a doll.”

  “Sure, Anthony. Whatever you want.” I walked out of the office, shooting my eyebrows up at Max as I passed him, with no intention of going anywhere near the kitchen. In fact, I had no real idea where I was going, which was why I ended up colliding with Caroline who was rushing toward me.

  I looked up with a start. “Caroline? I thought you'd gone shopping.”

  “Forgot my purse,” Caroline said with a shrug and a rueful smile. “Nightmare. Found some lovely shoes, too, and just when I was going to pay for them I realized I'd put my purse in my top drawer instead of in my bag. I've got it now.” She took it out and held it up, rolling her eyes. “So what are you doing? Anything I can help with?”

  I shook my head vaguely. “No. You go and buy your shoes.”

  “Can't,” she said. “There were, like, just one pair in my size and this other girl was in the shop at the same time and she, like, bought them, as soon as I realized my purse was missing. I mean, it's like really not fair, but you know, you've just got to look on the bright side, right?”

  I sighed. “There's a bright side?” I was struggling to see one of my own at the moment.

  “Oh, there's always a bright side,” Caroline said seriously. “Like, you know, saving money. Or maybe that girl, like, really needed the shoes. Way more tha
n me. So I've, like, done her a favor. Or maybe she'll be so happy with her shoes that she'll, like, do something really amazing in them, like give everything she owns to charity or something. See?”

  I looked at her for a moment then shrugged. “I guess,” I conceded with a sigh. “Although I'd say her giving everything to charity is maybe a little unlikely.”

  “But not impossible,” Caroline said seriously. “You've got to hope, haven't you?”

  “Sure. Hope,” I managed to say.

  Then Caroline moved toward me conspiratorially “You know, I was going to buy a bag. But I couldn't do it. It was just so sad. You know, with Project Handbag and everything.”

  “I know,” I said tightly. “But we'll recover.”

  “We will?” She was looking at me earnestly and I felt a stab of conscience.

  “Well, hopefully we will,” I said. “You know, eventually.”

  Caroline thought for a moment. “You look terrible,” she said. “Really tired.”

  I dug my nails into my palms; I knew that one little concerned look from Caroline could tip me over the edge. “I'm okay” I said, looking down. “Really I am.”

  “So you don't want to go for a drink?”

  “A drink?” I looked at her uncertainly. “It's not even lunchtime yet?”

  “It's been quite a morning,” Caroline said. I heard a door open—Max's. “Jess,” Anthony called. “Jess, I still haven't got that coffee. Chop-chop, now!”

  “You know what? I'd love to go for a drink,” I said, putting my arm through Caroline's. “Let's go right away.”

  We ended up in a wine bar around the corner, the same wine bar where I'd had a long boozy lunch with Anthony in the midst of Project Marriage. It felt like a lifetime ago when it had only been about eight months.

  “So,” Caroline said when we'd oohed and aahed over the menu and finally decided to be bold and order a bottle of wine between us. “What's going on?”

  I sat back in my leatherette chair and sighed. “You want the truth?”

  “The whole truth,” Caroline said, leaning forward. “Like everything.”

  “Fine,” I said, taking a big gulp of wine. “You're on.”

  So I told her. I told her about Grace, I told her about my needing to be called Jessica Milton (Mrs. Jessica Milton) in order to claim the inheritance she'd left me, the inheritance she'd wanted me to protect for her. I was going to leave it there—after all, Caroline was my assistant—but she was such a great listener and I really needed to get everything off my chest. I figured that I probably wouldn't be her boss for much longer anyway, so I told her about Grace having known all along that I wasn't really married to him, about Anthony finding out about the will and my stupid plan, about him being Grace's estranged son, the one she never told me about, the one she hoped I'd end up marrying for real so I could straighten him out. Then I told her about Max, whom I'd been in love with all along—how I'd nearly messed things up with the whole Project Marriage thing, but had realized just in time that I couldn't marry anyone for money, not even my money, especially when I was in love with someone else. I told her how Anthony had stormed out of the church when I'd said I couldn't go through with the wedding, how he'd only asked me because he'd planned to divorce me right away once he'd gotten his claim on half my money. I explained how, as it turned out, Anthony did have a small inheritance after all, just £1m compared with my £4m, and once he realized that, he just walked out with Marcia and didn't come back. Then I told her about winning the pitch for Project Handbag, how it had been my proudest moment ever. And finally, I told her about my mother, about Max's covert meetings with her, about my rushing to the wrong conclusion, about the drink with Hugh, about the night I spent at his apartment, and about the horrible, disastrous consequences.

  And to her credit, she didn't interrupt, not once, except to say “No!” every so often, or “Oh my God,” reaching over to clutch my hand or to pour herself another glass of wine. Even when I'd finished, she just sat there, openmouthed, not saying a thing.

  “Okay,” I said nervously, “you have to say something now. Anything will do.”

  Caroline nodded. “Right,” she said. “Right.” She looked down as if trying to think of the right words. Then she looked up again. “He doesn't know? Max, I mean?”

  I shook my head. “I tried to tell him. Today, when Anthony barged in. The other day, too, but Chester turned up. Max said that I was the only thing he had, the only thing he could believe in.”

  “But you're going to, right?”

  I'd never noticed how clear Caroline's eyes were, how honest and pure. They made me feel like the lowest of the low.

  “Of course I am.” I nodded miserably. “I was trying to tell him when Anthony turned up and interrupted me. I hate myself, Caroline. I hate myself every minute of every day. And now he doesn't think we should get married anymore, so I guess the timing's pretty perfect.”

  “He loves you,” Caroline said. “He'll understand. People make mistakes all the time. God, I'm like the queen of mistakes. Every day I make loads.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, not at work. Well, not all the time. I mean, I do generally realize in time … Don't fire me, okay?”

  She looked up at me worriedly and I smiled wryly. “I won't, I promise,” I said. “But you should feel free to resign. I mean, I hate Hugh Barter more than anything in the whole wide world, but everyone else is going to work for him, so you should feel free to go, too. You need a job. And from the looks of things it doesn't look like Milton's going to be able to pay you for that much longer.”

  “Go to work for Hugh Barter? Uggghhh. I'd rather die,” Caroline said, slamming her glass down a little too vigorously and spilling half of her wine. Then she shrugged. “Anyway, he's already asked me and I said no.”

  “He asked you?” I asked incredulously. “Bloody cheek.”

  “That's what I said.” Caroline grinned. “Well, without the swearing. I said I was very happy where I was, thank you very much.”

  “And what did he say?” I asked, allowing myself a little smile.

  “He said he'd double my salary. I told him I wasn't interested in money.”

  “That will have confused him.” I giggled.

  “It did. He offered to triple my salary then, which was, like, stupid, because I'd already told him I wasn't interested in money.”

  “He thought you were negotiating,” I explained. “No one's really not interested in money. It just means you're not interested in that pitifully small amount.”

  “Really?” Caroline looked at me in surprise. “How strange. Well anyway, I told him that I wasn't going to leave Milton Advertising. And then he said that the company didn't have any money and that I'd soon be considering his offer when my paycheck bounced.”

  I flinched slightly. “He certainly didn't pull any punches.”

  “I didn't like him,” Caroline said. “Not when he called me and certainly not now. He's a toad. And I'm not leaving, so there.”

  “Thanks, Caroline,” I said warmly. “Really. But you have to think of yourself. Hugh's right about the money.”

  “So don't pay me for a while,” she said brightly.

  “Don't pay you? Don't be ridiculous. The whole point of a job is that you get paid for it.”

  “No, it isn't,” Caroline said. She took another gulp of wine and put her glass down, rather less violently this time. “For me, having a job at Milton, working for you, is about being this person that I never thought I'd be. Someone with responsibilities. Someone that gets taken seriously. You know, I went to like a million interviews and no one gave me a job, and then I met you, and you did. You gave me a chance. And now you've got me. That's how it works. I don't need the money, not really. So you can't leave, because if you do, I won't know what to do with myself.”

  Her eyes were boring into me, those clear, pure, blue eyes, and suddenly I felt like I wanted to cry. But I didn't; I just nodded, and managed a little smile.

  “Okay,” I agre
ed. “I won't go anywhere.”

  “There's one other thing,” she said, leaning over the table.

  “There is?”

  She nodded, her eyes glinting slightly. “When Hugh Barter called, he was asking about the celebrities who'd agreed to endorse the campaign.”

  “You mean Elle? Beatrice?” I asked.

  Caroline nodded. “He said that he'd promised Jarvis Private Banking that the same celebrities would take part in the campaign, that he'd put it in the contract. Apparently Chester insisted that he'd only switch agencies if Hugh could assure him the exact same launch and campaign.”

  “Okay,” I said, nodding. I had a tiny inkling where this was going, but I didn't dare even think it in case I was wrong.

  “I think that's why he offered to triple my salary,” Caroline said thoughtfully, taking a delicate sip of her wine and looking up, her eyes dancing.

  “Quite possibly,” I said tentatively. “So did he manage to persuade them?”

  Caroline's mouth creased upward. “Not so much,” she said seriously. “No, poor Hugh had a bit of a hard time of it. Apparently he called their ‘people,’ but their people said they didn't know anything about it. They said their clients never endorsed handbags, that he should try someone else.”

  “They all said that?” I asked. “That's quite a coincidence.”

  “Isn't it,” Caroline said, a conspiratorial smile appearing on her face.

  “And they just said that off their own bat, did they?”

  “Oh yes,” Caroline said innocently. “I mean, it had nothing to do with me. I was barely at Boujis last night. Barely saw anyone.”

  “I see,” I said. I was actually smiling—and I hadn't smiled in what felt like a very long time. “Must have been hard for Hugh.”

  “Oh, it was,” Caroline agreed enthusiastically. “I guess that's why he called me again this evening. He wanted to know about our contracts with them,” she continued, a little quiver of laughter in her voice. “He was most upset when he found out we didn't have any.”

  “Poor Hugh,” I said.

  “Poor, poor Hugh.”

  “So he doesn't have any celebrity endorsement, I take it?” I asked.

  Caroline shook her head, grinning openly now. “Well, not anyone in my circle, or their circle's circle, or any of the circles that connect in any way to any of them,” she said, winking.