Stan hastily picked up his stuff and shuffled out of the room without even an apologetic backwards glance, leaving Abby to face the angry grizzly bear alone. Charming.
‘You’re fired.’
Okay, she’d not anticipated that one. Willing her knees to stop knocking she rose to her feet. ‘On what grounds?’
‘Meddling in company business.’
‘In what way is taking a distributor though their contract, under the direct orders of the managing director, meddling?’ There. Her voice was hardly shaking.
‘Were you suggesting revisions?’
Why hadn’t she kept her big gob shut? ‘I only mentioned that the new range wasn’t included. I was going to check when Doug came back whether it should have been or not.’
‘Then I’ll save you the trouble. Meddling in affairs you shouldn’t is grounds for gross misconduct. I want you out of here in five minutes.’ His top lip curled in a sneer. ‘Not so cocky now, eh? And don’t think your boyfriend will get you your job back, because I still run this company.’
Charles Faulkner left the same way he’d entered, slamming the door so loud it rattled on its hinges.
Abby slumped back down on the chair, staring after him in shock. Had she really just got fired? As the reality of it began to sink in and she glanced round Doug’s office for what she knew would be the final time, a sob burst from her. Damn it, she loved this job. Where else was she going to get the chance to work on such important projects with her lack of experience? Yeah right, because it’s the job she was so cut up about. Not the fact that she’d never bring Doug another coffee, smiling to herself as she placed it next to his coaster because she knew it drove him mad. Never again see his eyes fill with admiration as she presented one of her ideas to him.
She’d resigned herself to never kissing him again, but not seeing him again?
Tears streamed down her face as she grabbed at her belongings with shaking hands; her handbag, the pot plant the girls had bought her, the umbrella she’d jammed into her filing cabinet just in case. A photograph of them all on pizza night when they’d celebrated her getting the job.
A final sob wrenched from her as she stuffed the photograph into her yellow bag and left her office for the last time.
Doug whistled as he climbed the stairs to his office. Whistled as he opened the door and dumped his jacket on the back of his chair. Carried on whistling as he walked back out to Abby’s desk.
Then stopped.
She’d gone. Not just left early for the day gone, but gone, gone. He almost felt it before he saw the evidence. No photograph, no struggling-to-stay-alive plant.
No Abby.
Snatching at the phone he called William, the HR Director, his anger mounting the more he listened to the man’s stuttering reply. Within seconds Doug was barging through the door of his father’s office.
Charles’s head snapped up at the interruption, but when he saw who it was a slow smile slid across his face. ‘Ah, you’ve obviously heard that I had to sack your little blonde girl. Most unfortunate. It couldn’t be helped, I’m afraid.’
Doug’s hands clenched as he took two purposeful strides towards the desk. ‘Call William and tell him you’ve made a mistake.’
Charles Faulkner leant forward. ‘No.’
Doug leant forward too, bracing his arms on the desk so their faces were almost touching. ‘You have no grounds to sack her and you know it. She was going through the contract with Stan under my direct orders. Sack me.’
‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘As intriguing as that possibility sounds, the answer is no. Can’t have people thinking I’ve got a total imbecile for a son.’
‘If you’re sacking the woman I hired, for doing a job I told her to do, people will think it anyway.’
‘She’s been sacked for meddling in company affairs. The message is already out there and can’t be undone. Go back to your office and do what I pay you to do.’
Anger lashed at Doug’s insides, burning a trail from his gut to his fist, bypassing his brain. He raised his right arm and grabbed his father by his collar. ‘You bastard.’
His father’s face started to turn red but there was no fear in his eyes, only cold amusement. ‘I rather believe that term describes you, not me.’
Doug’s fist tightened on the collar, turning Charles’s face a shade darker. ‘This is going to end,’ he announced harshly, then twisted his hand just that little bit more, almost cutting off his air supply.
Charles’s eyes began to bulge and his hands tore at Doug’s, trying to release his hold, but Doug was too strong for him. What would it feel like to push on those carotids just a little bit more? The strangle was part of BJJ. A legitimate way of getting an opponent to submit. If it worked on fit young men, what would it do to a fat old one?
Disgusted with himself, Doug relaxed his hands and shoved his father back onto his chair. Christ, what had he been thinking, wrapping his hand around an old man’s neck?
Feeling sick, Doug spun away and staggered along the corridor to the gents where he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. After rinsing his mouth he rested his hands on the sink and stared into the mirror, not recognising the haggard man looking back at him. The eyes were lost. Those of a man shipwrecked in stormy waters, who’d just seen his last lifeline float away.
Splashing cold water on his face he tried to reassure his harrowed reflection that Abby wouldn’t necessarily hate him for what he’d let his father do. Perhaps she’d even understand he was powerless to stop him.
Powerless to stop an old man trampling all over the woman he … he … His heart shrivelled in his chest and Doug hung his head. He’d never know what Abby could have meant to him.
What a fucking mess.
He dried off his face with a paper towel before scrunching it violently into a ball and throwing it in the bin. The sound of his mobile crashed into the silence, echoing round the stark room and for the tiniest of moments his heart lifted. Maybe it was Abby, telling him not to worry.
‘Luke.’
His friend didn’t pick up on the heaviness of his voice. ‘Hey, not just Luke. I’m the man who’s managed to persuade the God of the New York gallery scene to take eight of your paintings. You can call me Sir from now on.’
Doug shut his eyes and leant against the cold tiled wall, unable to raise a smile. What a difference a few minutes made.
‘Doug?’
‘Sorry, mate,’ he croaked. Jesus, he sounded like he’d been crying. He ran the tap and splashed more water on his face. ‘Now’s a bad time.’
‘What the hell happened in the hour since you left here with a bloody big grin on your face?’
‘I … that is, my father …’ He squeezed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. ‘My father sacked Abby for gross misconduct.’
There was a beat of silence as his friend tried to process the information. ‘What did she do?’
‘What I asked her to.’
‘And what was that?’
Doug choked on the next words. ‘What I should have been doing, only instead I was in your gallery, schmoozing an art dealer. Sorting out my own future, while at the same time fucking up hers.’
There was a loud exhale of air on the end of the line. ‘Stop blaming yourself, Doug. It’s your father who’s the bastard here, not you.’
‘No.’ Doug straightened up and faced himself in the mirror. ‘I’m the weak shit who lets my father get away with this. I’m the one at fault.’
‘Then do something about it,’ Luke countered. ‘You never bothered to challenge him when he was picking on you but now he’s picked on Abby, perhaps it’s time to ask yourself where your loyalties lie. With your mother and sisters, or with the woman you love.’
‘I don’t love her.’ It was an instinctive reply, though the words tasted wrong in his mouth. As if they’d passed their expiry date.
Down the end of the phone he heard Luk
e snorting. ‘Course you do, you dumbwit. You’re just too stupid to realise it. Now get off this phone and go and beg her forgiveness.’
With a rush of determination Doug raced down the stairs and into his car. Luke was right. It was time to look after the woman who’d brought happiness into his life, even if she refused to talk to him again.
Even if it was at the expense of his own family.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Abby had been home for three hours and already recounted the tale of what had happened three times. The first had been with Ellie, Holly and Sally.
‘Why are you home already?’ Sally had asked when they’d piled through the door.
‘Are you ill?’ That had been from sweet, caring Holly.
‘Are you skiving off?’ Predictably that had come from Ellie.
When she’d told them what had happened, she’d had another three predictable replies.
‘That’s ridiculous. Mr Faulkner can’t sack you like that. You can get him for unfair dismissal. We learnt about that at school.’ Had been Sally’s response.
‘Oh, poor you. That’s not fair.’ Holly had gone on to hug her, causing Abby to tear up yet again.
The tears had turned into helpless laughter when Ellie had asked, ‘Does that mean we won’t get any more cheap biscuits?’
Abby had only just recovered from that bout of questioning when Mandy arrived home and she’d had to explain it all again.
‘The miserable git sacked you?’ she’d exclaimed. ‘And what does Doug think of all this? I presume he’s sorting his father out.’
Abby hadn’t been able to reply. She didn’t have a clue what Doug thought as he hadn’t bothered to contact her. Before she’d been able to brood too much on that though, her father had come home and she’d had to go through the whole wretched tale again.
‘Bullshit,’ he exclaimed. ‘If that Faulkner bloke thinks he can treat my daughter like this he’s got another think coming. I’ll be round there first thing tomorrow.’ He shot her a look. ‘And if his son hasn’t beaten me to it, he’s not the man I thought he was.’
Abby’s mind flashed back to the board meeting where Doug had let his father stomp all over him. He was hardly going to stand up to his father for her if he wouldn’t flaming do it for himself. The thought made her angry. She’d lost a bloody good job today and it was Doug’s fault, not hers. Not even Charles Faulkner really, because though he might have fired her, Doug had given him the ammunition.
The doorbell sounded and Abby jumped up from the sofa with a start. Was that Doug? She’d taken one step towards the door when her father blocked her path. ‘Stay where you are. I’ll get it.’
His feet sounded ominously heavy as he marched towards the door. Their house didn’t have much of a hallway so anyone sitting in the living area, as Abby was, could overhear the conversation at the front door.
When she heard Doug’s low, quiet voice her heart thrashed wildly. ‘Hello, Derek. Is Abby in?’
‘She’s in, yes,’ came her father’s terse reply. ‘Doesn’t mean I’m going to let you talk to her, though.’
Abby cringed, rising to her feet but then slumping back down again. Maybe it was best for her dad to get it out of his system.
‘I understand your reticence,’ Doug replied, his voice so deliberate, so controlled. ‘You have every right to be angry.’
‘Aye, I’m that all right. Angry with your father, disappointed in you.’ There was a silence and she tried to imagine Doug’s face as the words hit him. Was he looking upset, or was he wearing his damn mask again? ‘Are you going to make sure my girl gets her job back?’ her father continued harshly. ‘Though maybe she won’t want it after the way your family have treated her. She’s far too good to be a secretary to the likes of you, anyway.’
‘I know she is.’
Abby bounded to her feet and rushed to the door. Listening to her father chew Doug off a strip was beyond painful.
Doug’s eyes darted over to her and, oh God, the misery in them almost made her forget how cross she was with him. ‘Abby.’ Briefly he closed those sapphire pools. When he opened them again they pleaded with her. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Yes, I think you are.’
‘It’s no good being sorry. You need to bloody well sort it out.’
‘Dad!’ Abby shot her father a shut up you’re embarrassing me look.
‘No, your father’s right. And I will sort it out, but …’ Doug heaved out a sigh. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘What’s complicated?’ her father demanded. ‘You’re the flaming managing director.’
Doug thrust a hand through his hair, his expression tight.
‘Dad, you’re not helping here.’ Abby nudged his arm. ‘I love you to bits but right now I need you to butt out and go and make the tea. I’ve got this.’
Her father gave Doug one final hard stare before grunting and walking away.
‘Hell, Abby.’ Doug shook his head, his voice loaded with frustration. ‘How much of a wimp do you take me for? You think I can’t handle a few jibes from your father?’
‘It’s not my father who’s the problem here.’
His jaw clenched and his chest rose and fell. ‘I know.’
‘So, do you want to come in for a drink and discuss this like rational human beings, or would you rather continue the doorstep slanging match? I’m sure the neighbours would prefer the latter. They’re used to hearing a few ding dongs coming from our house though they usually involve Mandy and Roger. And never have they involved a man who drives an Aston Martin.’
‘Abby.’ There followed another deep expulsion of breath. ‘Why aren’t you punching me in the face right now, rather than inviting me in for a drink?’
‘I’d hate to ruin such a lovely face.’
His breath came out in a choked laugh. ‘Jesus.’ He took a step back and shoved a hand in each pocket. ‘I realise it makes me a coward but, if you don’t mind, I’d rather we discussed what we need to somewhere quieter.’
‘Quieter than the drive?’
‘Quieter than the Spencer family home.’
‘Ah.’ At that moment there was a loud crash, followed immediately by a chorus of barking, a squeal from George and a cacophony of raised voices.
‘What I’d really like is to take you back to my place so I can give you the answers to some of the questions you’ve asked and I’ve evaded.’ His eyes sought hers and their sincerity pulled at her heart. ‘Somehow I’ve managed to dump you right in the middle of my mess. You don’t know how sorry I am about that and the very least you deserve is an explanation. Will you hear me out, please?’
She would never be able to refuse those eyes. ‘As long as food is involved because my stomach’s rumbling.’
His face relaxed slightly. ‘I can throw something together.’
‘Okay then.’ Her heart jumped, clearly forgetting how much he’d let her down and focusing instead on the part where he made her a meal. In his house. ‘I’ll just grab my handbag and tell the noisy crew I’m going.’
A few minutes later she was climbing into Doug’s car, her ears ringing with her father’s last words. If you don’t get him to sort things out, I will. And he won’t like my methods.
‘I might not have punched your face yet, but I am bloody annoyed,’ she told Doug as he reversed out of the drive. ‘I don’t want you thinking I’m a pushover.’
Abby remained quiet for most of the drive, leaving Doug to his own crappy thoughts. He didn’t blame Derek for being spitting mad. He’d allowed Abby to be treated like dirt – he deserved all the condemnation thrown at him. If Abby herself had any sense she’d tell him to go to hell. He pulled up at a traffic light, his eyes darting automatically towards her, drifting over the curves so clearly outlined by her fitted blue dress. Despite the inappropriateness of the situation, he felt a flash of desire.
It cooled a little when he glanced at her face. Sombre, where usually it was so alive.
‘I don’t even know wh
ere you live,’ she said into the silence. ‘I presume it’s not far, otherwise I could have taken my own car so you didn’t have to drive me back.’
I don’t want you going back. As the words echoed around his head he cleared his throat. ‘I don’t live far. I’ll take you home when you’ve had enough.’
‘I guess that’s the least you can do,’ she replied, eyes fixed on the road ahead, ‘considering that between you and your father I lost my job today. It was a pretty good job, too. My boss needed to loosen up a bit but at least he let me get involved with the business. He was cute, too, if you like the strong and silent type.’
He shot her a quick glance but her profile gave him no clue as to what she was thinking. ‘And do you? Like the strong and silent type?’ he qualified when she didn’t reply.
‘I’m still making up my mind.’
Okay. He deserved that. Letting the comment slide he turned on some music. Time enough for talking when they were at his house.
Ten minutes later he pulled up to his gates and clicked the remote on his dashboard to open them.
‘Oh my God, you live here?’ Her hand swept over the imposing four bed detached house he called home. ‘In all of this?’ She slapped a hand on her forehead. ‘Then again I expect it seems small compared to your other home. The one you grew up in.’
‘I spent most of my growing up years living in a bedroom in a boarding school dormitory,’ he reminded her. ‘But yes, this is where I live now.’
The trappings of a millionaire’s son. For years he’d hated the place but since he’d paid off the outstanding mortgage with the earnings from his paintings, he’d begun to see it as less of a bribe and more of a home.
He held the car door open for her but she refused his outstretched hand, reaching for the door handle instead as she climbed out.
It felt like a punch to the gut.
‘Shall we eat first, talk after?’ he asked as he walked through the front door and snapped on the lights. ‘That way we don’t spoil our appetite?’
‘I can pretty much guarantee whatever you’ve got to say won’t stop me eating.’
He’d noticed that about her, how she didn’t pick at food like most other women he knew. ‘Is pasta okay? I rarely go wrong with that. Anything else you’ll be taking a risk.’
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