by Iona Rose
Rita is lying on her belly on the couch reading a magazine, her hair hanging in her face. She reaches up and pushes it back when she hears me come in. Her eyes scan over me and her face slowly breaks into a smile. “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” she grins.
Returning her smile, I perch on the edge of a chair. I still have a good fifteen minutes to wait to be picked up.
“So what’s this Brett guy like then?” Rita asks. “I know you say he’s the best looking man you’ve ever seen, but what’s he like as a person?”
That’s a good question. I’ve been working closely with him all day and for most of yesterday, but I really know very little about him. He kept the conversation firmly on work and I didn’t have the guts to ask him anything about himself, although I was dying to.
“He’s a little less formal than his father. I’ve worked for his father for three years and I still call him Mr. Connell and he’s never once indicated I shouldn’t. I called Brett Mr. Connell and he laughed and told me it was Brett. And yeah, that’s really all I know. We’ve been so focused on work, on getting him caught up with where we are with everything, that there hasn’t been much time to talk about anything else. I’m kind of hoping he relaxes a little tonight and I can get to know a little more about him.”
“You know sometimes when a man plays it all mysterious, it’s because there’s really nothing to tell.” Rita grins, her green eyes twinkling mischievously. “Sometimes, they’re just that boring.”
“Oh trust me, I know that only too well.” I wince.
Rita and I giggle as we both remember Bobby, a guy I dated a year or so ago. He was the strong silent type, and I dreamed up all of these scenarios for him, and when he finally let his guard down and told me about himself, I realized he was the most boring guy I had ever met. He had a collection of train memorabilia for goodness sake.
“I don’t get that impression from Brett though,” I go on, aware that my voice has a dreamy quality to it that I can’t quite shake. I know Rita has noticed it too by the amused smile she gives me. But I don’t say anything about it, I just go on with my explanation, “I mean yeah, maybe he’s secretly got a stamp collection or something, but I get the impression he’s reserved around me because I work for his father. I don’t know what’s gone on with the family, but Brett and Mr. Connell are really formal and awkward around each other. And last year when he came into the office, they had some sort of argument where Brett thought his father had done something to make his deal fall through. He said he thought his father was trying to force him to work for the company. There’s definitely some bad blood there. And I have no idea where he’s been for the last year.”
“Maybe he’s a spy.” Rita grins.
I roll my eyes.
She laughs. “Ok, seriously, he’s probably not a spy. But yeah, I guess it makes sense he would be guarded around you if he has issues with his dad and he thinks you’re going to run to him with anything he tells you.” She laughs again. “Although I think it’s fair to say his father finally got what he wanted. If only he had thought of having a heart attack sooner, you could have gotten to know the mysterious Brett before they had this falling out.”
“Rita,” I gasp shocked.
“Oh relax Opal, it’s not like he died or anything…” She pauses for a moment and then she starts to talk again, “Ok, new scenario. Maybe he didn’t disappear at all. You seem to think he’s been somewhere for the last year. Maybe he just doesn’t feel the need to contact his father at work. I mean when was the last time you called your dad at work?”
“Ok, fair point,” I say. “But as Mr. Connell’s personal assistant, I see his private diary as well and I’ve never once seen anything in there about him meeting up with Brett at any point over the last year either.”
“So they don’t get on, so they don’t spend time together.” Rita shrugs. “It still doesn’t mean Brett’s been gone for a year.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I don’t know how to explain to her that if they’re running similar businesses in the same city, they would have crossed paths at some point.
“You’re not convinced are you?” Rita pushes herself up into a sitting position and peering at me through narrowed eyes. “Ok, where do you think he was? Do you think he has a secret wife and kids somewhere?”
“No!” I exclaim. I hadn’t even considered that as a possibility. But now I do. Am I going to go to this event tonight and end up meeting a wife I didn’t know Brett had? I mean it would make sense. He’s so hot it’s almost impossible to imagine him not having a wife, or at least a girlfriend. But no, he can’t have. Jessie would have known. She knows everything about everyone and there’s no way, she wouldn’t have mentioned something as big as a wife.
I open my mouth to say more, but at that moment, the buzzer on the door rings.
Rita grins at me. “Go get him,” she says.
“It’s not like that Rita,” I insist. “It’s just a work thing. Yes, I think he’s attractive, but nothing will happen, even if he wanted it to. It’s not professional. I just like the idea of having someone pretty to look at. It will make this dinner party a bit more interesting that’s all.”
“Ok hon, you keep telling yourself that.” Rita smirks. “Now go.”
Jumping to my feet, I hurry towards the door. I pause and look back, ready to ask Rita if I really look alright.
She grins. “You look beautiful,” she says, answering my question before I even have a chance to ask it.
I smile at her and rush out of the apartment before I let my nerves get the better of me altogether. I take the stairs. It’s only one floor and the stairs are usually quicker than waiting for the elevator, even in these heels. I reach the ground floor and take a deep breath then smooth my dress over my hips.
I step out into the night. A light breeze blows, bringing a chill to my bare arms and I wonder briefly if I should have worn a jacket, but I instantly dismiss the idea. It would have ruined my look, and besides, it’s not like I’m going to be outside for long.
A black Mercedes is parked at the curb and a man in a black uniform stands beside it. He smiles as I approach him. “Ms Collins?” he says.
Smiling back, I give him a nod.
“Good evening,” he says, pulling the back door of the car open.
“Thank you.” I get into the car, trying to hide my disappointment. When Brett told me a car would pick me up at eight, for some reason, I assumed he would be in the car. I’m annoyed at myself for the misunderstanding, but I am even more annoyed at myself for being disappointed that he isn’t here. If I had been coming here with Mr. Connell, I never would have expected him to be in the car he sent for me, and I certainly wouldn’t have been disappointed about it. Rita is right. I am thinking about this night as way more than I should.
The driver gets into the car and starts the engine. We pull away from the curb and join the steady flow of traffic moving towards the city center.
I sit back in my seat and stare out of the window without really seeing anything. I give myself a good talking to. Yes, Brett is good looking. But I have been around good looking men before and never have I lost my mind like this. I need to get a grip of myself and fast. This is business, nothing more and nothing less and I need to remember that.
The moving scenery gets my attention as the driver pulls off the main through road and goes down a series of smaller streets. After a few moments and several more twists and turns, we’re heading down a deserted country road. I remember Mr. Connell telling me that this dinner party would be held at William Hardy’s home, a country mansion in the middle of nowhere.
I feel excitement swirling through my stomach again, and this time, it has nothing to do with Brett. It’s a genuine excitement for the event we’re going to be attending. I think it sounds like the perfect place for a nice evening of chatting and good food.
The car moves along the deserted road. Trees line the road on either side and it’s so dark here that it fee
ls like the dead of night. I imagine owls swooping through the trees and night creatures stalking through the woods. I almost laugh out loud at my own crazy thoughts, but I hold it in. I don’t want Mr. Connell’s driver to think I’ve lost the plot.
The car slows down and I peer between the seats, so I can see through the windscreen. We’re approaching a large set of wrought iron gates set into a high brick wall. It looks more like a prison than a mansion, but I was expecting some sort of security to be in place. William is a multi millionaire, so he’s not going to have his property open for just anyone to waltz into.
“Ms Collins representing Asima Asset Management,” the driver says into the intercom.
I feel another prickle of excitement go through me. He makes it sound like I’m here as an equal to Brett, rather than as his subordinate, and I suppose in some ways, I am. I mean I know more about the company than he does certainly, and Mr. Connell himself asked me to come this evening to make sure it all goes well. To insure that Brett talks to the right people. For tonight only, maybe I can really be more than just a personal assistant. I already bring real value to the company, and maybe I can make myself even more of an asset.
The gates open and we drive through them. They begin to close the second we’re inside. The long driveway is lined with manicured trees and little lights are scattered through them in strategic places, casting an ethereal glow over the road.
Yes, I say to myself, tonight is going to be a raging success, and I’m going to remind Mr. Connell of why he trusts me so much. There’s going to be no flirting with Brett, no imagining what it would be like to kiss him. It’s going to be all about the business.
4
We drive for what feels like at least a mile before the road before us opens out into a wide circle in front of the mansion. The mansion is beautiful, large and white and gleaming. A set of white marble stairs lead up to the doors of the house and the doors stand open and two men stand either side of them, waiters holding trays of champagne flutes. In the center of the circular road, a large fountain throws white water into the air and then the water comes cascading back down through a series of lights that makes it look like something out of a fairy tale. William has definitely gone all out on this dinner party if this is anything to go by.
I wonder for a second where all of the other cars are.
Then my question is answered when a man in black trousers and a red jacket steps out of the trees and comes to the car as it rolls to a stop at the base of the stairs. The driver rolls the window down and the man introduces himself as Mr. Hardy’s valet. The driver politely declines his services, explaining that he won’t be staying, he’s just dropping me off. The valet nods and blends back into the shadows.
It always amazes me how the staff at these kinds of events so effortlessly fade into the background and then magically appear when they are needed.
I thank my driver and then I reach for the door handle, but before I can open the door, it opens for me and a hand reaches in. I take the hand and step out of the car, careful not to flash too much flesh as I get out. I manage to leave the car reasonably gracefully, which I’m pleased about, particularly when I look up and see the owner of the hand is Brett.
He looks as hot as always, dressed in a full black tuxedo and a crisp looking white shirt. “You look great Opal.” He smiles as he releases my hand.
“Thank you,” I say, feeling myself blushing slightly under his approving gaze. “You scrub up pretty well yourself.”
He laughs softly and offers me his arm. “Shall we?”
Nodding at him, I link my arm through his, steeling myself for the pulse of energy that floods from him into me. I try to remind myself of the little speech I just gave myself in the car, the one where work is the only important thing tonight and I’m not going to let Brett distract me from proving my worth as an employee of Asima Asset Management. It feels like a distant memory, a promise I made in a different life, to a different version of myself.
“I must apologize for not collecting you myself Opal. I know my father would have sent a car, but I would have liked to have been a little more personal,” he says.
He doesn’t offer any further explanation and I can’t help but think of him with his wife, too busy to worry about something as insignificant as me. “It’s fine,” I say. “I’m sure you were busy. Is your wife here with you tonight?”
I cringe at my blunt question. Jeez Opal, nice going. So smooth.
Brett laughs and shakes his head. “I’m not married.”
I mutter something in response, too embarrassed to say anything else. I am elated to learn there is no wife though. Not that it matters. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s my boss. It doesn’t magically make him available to me, or magically make him like me.
He still doesn’t offer any further explanation for where he was or what he was doing instead of coming to collect me himself, and his secrecy only adds to his intrigue.
I chastise myself again. It’s not secrecy. It’s just none of my business what he was doing and he obviously doesn’t feel the need to explain to me.
Allowing Brett to lead me to the stairs, I reach down and lift the front of my dress slightly as we climb them, not wanting my entrance to the grand building to involve me tripping and falling.
We reach the top of the stairs without incident.
Two waiters at the top of the staircase greet us and offer us champagne.
I decline. I want to get my bearings before I have a glass to contend with. My hand is shaking so much right now from the close proximity of my body to Brett’s that I’m not confident I could hold it without champagne sloshing it out of the glass. Brett declines too, although I’m almost certain it’s not because of any effect I might be having on him.
We step into the mansion and I am momentarily shocked into awed silence. The grand entryway is large and airy, lit by soft downlights that cast delicate shadows over everything. The space is dominated by a white marble staircase sweeping up to a walkway that runs around the entire section of the entrance way, adorned by a white decorative railing. Soft music fills the air and just below it, I can hear the humming of voices talking in polite, hushed tones.
A man appears seemingly out of nowhere.
I manage to focus on him and smile.
He returns my smile. “This way please.” He turns and walks across the entryway.
We dutifully follow him while I’m wondering if I should unhook my hand from Brett’s arm now.
But he keeps his arm pressed against his body, holding my hand firmly in place. I glance up at him as we walk. He looks down at me, nodding towards the man.
I realize he’s the Hardy’s butler.
Brett rolls his eyes and grins at me
Finally relaxing a little, I giggle softly.
Brett is probably more accustomed to this kind of setting than I am, and I like the fact that he still finds all of the pomp and circumstance mildly ridiculous. I mean who needs a butler when they have security gates in place? Surely, it’s easy enough to answer your own front door. I decide to withhold my judgement. Maybe William has employed the man just for the party so he can spend his time with his guests.
The butler stops in front of a set of double doors. He bows and gestures for us to enter.
The doors are already open and even before I step in, I can see the large grand piano in the corner of the tastefully decorated room. White leather sofas line the walls, clearly pushed back to make a dance floor for later on. The floor is hard wood, and my heels clack slightly as I walk onto it.
The room already contains around two dozen people. They mill around in small groups in the center of the floor, holding wine glasses and making polite small talk. A few people sit on the couches, but most of them stand, wanting to see and be seen.
I remove my hand from Brett’s arm. I miss the contact almost instantly, but I’m also relieved that I can finally breathe normally again and that my stomach isn’t clenching from his touch.
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A waiter approaches us with a tray of white and red wine.
I take a glass of the white wine and smile and thank him.
Brett declines a drink.
I raise an eyebrow. I hope he isn’t one of those bosses that thinks even a few glasses of wine is inappropriate at a work function, because I feel like a few glasses of wine might be the only thing that’ll get me through tonight without me making a total fool of myself and clamming up at the wrong moments.
A man in a very expensive looking suit is moving towards us. It is William Hardy. Beside him moves a woman who looks like she’s just stepped off a magazine cover. Her hair is perfectly styled and her red dress is exquisite.
I’ve never met her, but I assume from the fact that William’s hand is on the small of her back, guiding her forwards, that she’s Tanya Hardy, William’s wife.
“Opal, it’s good to see you.” William leans in and kisses my cheek.
“How are you?” I smile.
“Good,” he responds. “How’s Robert?”
It takes me half a second to realize he’s talking about Mr. Connell. “He’s on the mend,” I say. I gesture to Brett. “This is Mr. Connell’s son, Brett. He’s running the company until Mr. Connell is ready to come back to work. Brett, this is William Hardy. He’s been with us for a lot of years and he’s one of our best clients.”
Brett extends his hand to the man.
William shakes it. He winks at me. “I bet you say that about all of your clients,” he says.
“Ah, only the ones I like,” I joke.
He laughs and gestures to the woman in red. “This is my wife, Tanya.”
We greet Tanya.
She smiles shyly which is a little surprising. She looks like the sort of woman who owns any room she steps into.
“You have a beautiful home, Tanya,” I say.
“Thank you.” She smiles. “I’m an interior designer and it’s all my own work.”
“Wow, really?” I say.
She nods her head and blushes a little.