by Helen Brooks
She glanced at his bent head as he checked through the files, and her heart thudded against her chest. She would die if he did. Just die.
"Right." As he raised his head she saw his face was preoccupied and distant, the ice-blue eyes cold and hooded as they met hers.
"I'd like you to sit in on this one, Lydia, and take notes, OK?" She nodded quietly as a rush of relief made her light-headed. He didn't know, and she would have to make dam sure he never suspected even for a second if she wanted to keep her job. Thank goodness she had said she was married; it would probably never even cross his mind that she was attracted to him in a physical sense.
"Record anything Mike Wilson says, incidentally." He paused, and the handsome, cruel face hardened into stone.
"No matter how obtuse. OK?" He was watching her very closely and she felt a little shiver flicker down her spine.
"Why?" she asked carefully.
_He shrugged slowly.
"You'll know soon enough, if my suspicions are right." He lowered his head in dismissal.
At exactly eleven o'clock her office filled as though by magic, and as she ushered the group of men through she reflected, with wry uncomfortable humour, that Wolf had certainly got them well-trained.
As the meeting progressed she didn't understand half of what she took down, but dutifully recorded everything in case she missed something vital.
It was a long day and an arduous one and, as she put the minutes of the meeting on Wolfs desk at just after six, she was conscious of an illogical, and quite unreasonable, sense of injustice that he should still appear cool and razor-sharp whereas she was visibly wilting.
"Your friend has been on the take." It took a second for the words to register, spoken as they were in such a casual tone.
"Mike? No." She raised shocked eyes to his.
"What are you going to do?" She somehow knew instantly it was true.
"It has already been done." She looked away, her mouth unconsciously tightening at the flinty hardness in his face.
"You refuse any requests for references and refer any queries concerning him directly to me."
"You've sacked him?" she asked with a horrified gasp.
"Too damn true." He was flicking through the work she had just given him as he spoke, his head lowered. "He'll be lucky if he gets a job sweeping the roads after I've finished with him."
"But surely?" -- She stopped abruptly as the ice-blue gaze switched to her face. This was awful, awful--poor Anna.
"Yes?" His tone was not encouraging.
_"If it wasn't actually illegal...?" Her voice trailed away at the darkness in his face.
"I mean--' " I know what you mean. “He shook his head tightly as he settled back in his chair, the razor-sharp eyes hard on her face.
"And, no, it wasn't " actually" illegal, not at this stage, but it would have been." He eyed her grimly.
"You think I ought to have let the thing progress until I could throw a court case at him?"
"Of course not." She flushed slightly at the hard scrutiny.
"But have you asked him why he did it?"
"I'm not interested in why," he said coldly.
"He lied to me, that was his first big mistake, and then he thought an abject apology and a great deal of grovelling could extricate him from his foolishness.
That was his second error of judgement. “He moved forward in the chair and lowered his gaze to the papers again.
"I won't tolerate being lied to, Lydia. I never have."
"Oh." She was glad he was looking downwards and missed the sudden surge of hot, guilty colour into her cheeks.
"Well, if there's nothing else, I'll say goodnight."
"Wait a moment and I'll give you a lift home," he said casually, still with his eyes on the papers in front of him. "I'm dog-tired and enough is enough.
The rest of this will wait."
"There's no need." She spoke so hastily that the words came out in a breathless rush.
"I don't want to take you out of your way and--' " Get your coat. “It was as though she hadn't spoken.
"I..." She thought frantically for a cast-iron excuse to refuse the lift, but nothing came to mind, and as she stood hesitating in front of him he swept the papers into a neat pile and raised his head, his eyes blank.
"Well, go on," he said irritably as he moved from the _desk towards the coat-stand in the corner of the room. "I haven't got all night."
She hesitated for one more moment and then turned quickly and sped into the outer office, her thoughts in turmoil. She didn't want a lift with him, she didn't, she thought, panic-stricken as she slipped into her coat and checked the word processor was switched off. How was she going to make conversation with this iceberg of a man on the way home, and what if he expected to be asked in? He wouldn't, though, of course he wouldn't-- would he. She shut her eyes for a moment and prayed for calm. But if he did, she could say her husband was at work, or away, or something. Her eyes snapped open as he appeared in the doorway, his big black overcoat and heavy, dark briefcase adding to the image of formidable imperiousness.
Why had she started this? she asked herself desperately. Why had she lied?
A tremor raced through her as she remembered his face when he had spoken of
Mike Wilson's deceit. She should have come out in the open, made her position as a widow clear, and then the ball would have been in his court.
And she hadn't explained properly about Mike either.
"Ready?" He waved a dismissive hand towards the door and followed her out into the corridor, his face remote and withdrawn and his body straight. She glanced at him carefully as the lift took them swiftly downwards. She knew why she had lied. It was there in the almost tangible signals of dissociation his body was sending to hers, the total repudiation of any involvement, however slight, on a personal level. He wanted an efficient machine in his office. That was all. If she had said she was in effect single again. She nodded to herself mentally. She had done the only thing possible in the _circumstances. And of course he wouldn't want to come in for coffee--one didn't fraternise with machines, after all.
"You seem to be settling in very well."
It was as she opened her mouth to reply to the obviously forced cool pleasantry that the lift shuddered to a halt between floors, the momentary imbalance of the big box shaking her off her feet and throwing her against the solid bulk of his chest. His arms opened automatically to receive her as he in turn stumbled against the wall of the lift, and for a breath-stopping moment she was aware of being held in his arms, her face lifted up to his, for all the world like two lovers about to kiss as the lights flickered and dimmed.
"Are you all right?" Afterwards she realised he hadn't reacted as she would have imagined by pushing her impatiently, or even distastefully; away. In fact his arms tightened fractionally as he looked down into her frightened upturned face, in which the darkness of her eyes stood out like two velvet pools.
"Don't worry, lifts have a habit of playing silly devils," he reassured her softly.
"Do they?" She tried to smile but the combination of her fear of plunging to her death trapped in this little metal box and, more especially, his closeness was making her feel as helpless as a child.
Although certainly her body was reacting in a way that was definitely not child-like, she countered wryly as she carefully eased herself away from him.
He was holding her loosely now, his hands under her elbows, but the smell and feel of him were all around her and they were. unsettling. And thrilling. Undeniably thrilling.
"You haven't hurt yourself?" For a split second she considered saying yes so that he would hold her a little longer, but that impulse alone was enough to shock her _out of his hold as she shook her head, moving back a pace quickly.
What on earth's the matter with me? she asked herself weakly as he moved across the few feet of space and pressed the emergency button, his movements cool and controlled and his face expressionless. Is it sexual frustration
?
She shut her eyes briefly and prayed for the trembling that had taken over her limbs to still. But she didn't even have a sex drive, did she? Or not until three days ago, anyway.
"Claustrophobia."
"What?" She opened startled eyes to see his face inches from her own again, and the next moment he had taken her into his arms, stroking her face comfortingly as he held her close against him.
"The panic you're feeling," he said softly, his voice deep and low.
He had seen her trembling and put it down to claustrophobia? She said a mental thank you to her guardian angel.
"It's perfectly natural and you'll be out of here in a few minutes. Just relax and let me take the load--you're doing fine."
This wasn't helping, it definitely wasn't helping, she thought weakly as he enfolded her into him, wrapping his overcoat round her as he held her next to his heart. He thought she was scared to death but, instead of the biting scorn she would have expected, he was displaying a tenderness that was alarming. She was immensely glad a few seconds later when the emergency button buzzed loudly and the small intercom next to it crackled out the security guard's voice.
"Hello? Is anyone in there?"
"Rogers?" Wolf moved across to answer and Lydia leant limply against the wall of the lift, her heart thudding as she watched him.
"My secretary and I are in here. What the hell's happening?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Strade," the male voice answered promptly, 'but there's some sort of a power-cut that's affected all this side of the road. I understand it's being dealt with as quickly as possible, but I'm afraid there's nothing we can do at the moment. "
"Brilliant." He glanced across at her quickly before speaking again.
"Any idea how long before we're out?"
"Not long, sir." There was a brief pause while they heard him talking to someone else.
"About twenty minutes or so at the most."
"Right, keep me informed."
As he turned to face her fully again she spoke quickly in case he thought he had to continue the role of comforter.
"I'm fine now, really." She smiled brightly. "It was just the suddenness of it all."
"Good." He clearly thought she was just trying to be brave, because the expression of gentle concern that was so surprising on the harsh features didn't lessen.
"Well, we may as well make ourselves comfortable while we wait. I suggest you take-off your coat--it's already getting a little warm in here."
"Right." As she shrugged the jacket off her shoulders he moved quickly and drew it down her arms, his light touch burning her flesh as his fingers briefly made contact.
"Sit on this." He made his own coat into a large cushion, crouching down as he plumped it into shape. As she sat down on the wad of material he gestured at his tie. "Do you mind?" he asked mildly.
"I don't like these things at the best of times. "
"Of course not." He stood up again, for which she was supremely grateful.
The way the material of his trousers had moulded to his thighs had caused her breathing a few problems. He unbuttoned his jacket, revealing the _grey silk shirt tucked into the flat waistband of his trousers, and then loosened his tie, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt.
Somehow, in the close confines of the small lift, the action was painfully intimate, but for the life of her she couldn't draw her eyes away from his broad shoulders and muscled chest, the dark body-hair beneath the shirt causing hot colour to surge into her cheeks. Was he hairy all over? She shut her eyes against the thought.
"OK?" Her eyes snapped open to see him sitting against the opposite wall, his narrowed gaze fixed on her face.
"You look hot."
"No, I'm absolutely fine." She smiled brightly.
As she brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek his eyes followed the action, his gaze resting on the smooth blonde ness of her hair.
"How did you come to get such unusual colouring?" he asked suddenly.
"Your hair is so fair and yet your eyes are almost black."
"I don't know." She tried for a casual smile--that piercing gaze was more than a little unnerving.
"Some errant gene, I suppose, but it must be a strong one. Hannah, my daughter, is exactly the same.
Everyone says she is a carbon copy of me. "
"Do they?" There was something in his expression she couldn't read and it unnerved her still more.
"Your husband is a very lucky man to have two beautiful females to love," he said, after a few strangely tense seconds had ticked by.
Lydia's stomach clenched and she looked away quickly, her eyes downcast. "
How could she reply to that? She took a long, hidden breath and prayed for calm. “How long have we been in here now? “she asked tensely.
"About ten minutes." He didn't glance at his watch as _he spoke; his gaze never left her face.
"Shut your eyes a moment and try to relax," he added gently.
"Take a few deep breaths and regulate your breathing." He thought there was a danger of her hyper ventilating Lydia thought weakly. How right he was, but not for the reason he imagined! Nevertheless, she did as he instructed, leaning back against the wall of the lift and shutting her eyes tight as she folded her arms protectively over her breasts. The dim light from the emergency batteries in the lift's back-up system produced a dull charcoal glow against her closed eyelids, and after a few seconds she heard Wolfs briefcase snap open and the rustle of papers.
He was going to work now? She opened incredulous eyes to see him crouched over a long report, a slight frown wrinkling his brow as he peered at the small figures in the shadowy gloom. He was unbelievable, quite unbelievable.
Didn't he ever stop working? She smiled bemusedly.
"What?" She hadn't been aware that the blue eyes had nicked upwards, but now saw they were trained on her face.
"I'm sorry?" She was flustered and it showed.
"You were smiling, a Mona Lisa smile if I may say so," he added softly.
"Why?"
"Oh, nothing, it was just--' She stopped abruptly as she wondered if she dared tell him. Oh, blow it, he had asked, after all.
"I was wondering if you ever stop working," she said quietly, 'that's all. "
"Do I detect a note of disapproval?" he asked smoothly as he crouched back on his heels, the position emphasising strong muscled legs and hard inner thighs.
"Not really." She smiled with what she hoped came _across as cool composure.
"I'm sure it needs your sort of dedication to stay at the top in this business--' " You're right," he interrupted expressionlessly, 'it does." He stood up slowly, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed as he looked down at her.
"But that is only part of it. I like what I do, that's the bottom line."
"Yes..." She shook her head slowly.
"But incidents like the Mike Wilson thing, don't they bother you at all?"
"Mike Wilson has been dealt with before he could do any damage," he said coldly, 'and, more importantly, has been seen to be dealt with.
He will serve as a timely example of what happens if anyone is stupid enough to try and cross me, so, if anything, I have gained, not lost, from the episode. That being the case, why should it bother me? "
She stared at him silently, shocked by the blatant ruthlessness his words revealed.
"But he has a wife and child," she murmured, after a pregnant pause.
"You said yourself he'll never get another job--' " That is his concern, not mine. “The handsome face was stony now.
"He had an excellent and extremely well- paid position with me, which he chose to put in jeopardy through his own greed. He has lived an executive lifestyle for several years, complete with large house, private schooling for his boy, all the trappings wealth brings, and that has been on the salary I have paid him. If you are asking me to feel guilty, forget it. I don't."
He eyed her grimly.
"Besides which, the M
ike Wilsons of this world always get by," he finished brusquely.
He was right. She had to admit there was more than a grain of truth in what he said, and he had had the option of giving Mike enough rope to hang himself but decided against it, and yet. She too rose, very slowly, to stand looking at him across the few feet of space. Did he have to be so cold, so remote, so untouched by it all? She doubted if he had any normal feelings at all or, if there were a few, they were deeply encased in solid ice. "I can understand what you are saying but--' She stopped abruptly, not quite knowing how to continue. This was her boss, when all was said and done, her bread and butter, so to speak.