Unbind (Sub Rosa Series Book 1)

by Lynch, Sarah Michelle

  “What do you mean exactly, Ash?” I still stared into the distance and hoped my tone seemed authoritative and professional.

  I had a contract that said I was on a probation, but that still meant they had to give me at least three months—so he couldn’t just chuck me out. He had to give me a chance.

  “You just seem too good for this gaff, that’s what I’m saying,” he said, his hands open suddenly, his confession out there.

  I laughed lightly, more out of embarrassment, but partially out of confusion too.

  “I worked for the Sheffield Telegraph before. Sure, I could’ve stayed there and lumped it. It was okay pay, my colleagues were sound… but there are only so many muggings, house fires and dodgy politicians you can cover before you start going stir crazy, you know? I’m realistic, not simplistic.”

  He choked on a small laugh, obviously nervous too. “Well, just so you know… I wouldn’t blame you for throwing in the towel here. It can get crazy. You won’t get much thanks even if you put in extra hours. However… what you will get is your own workload and pretty much free rein to manage it. So if you can manage well, you can manage anywhere,” he winked annoyingly.

  Wow, sell it to me why don’t you? So, not only was my new job going to be a severe disappointment, but everyone in the place already thought I was mad for joining. Everyone dressed casually and not a bit like me in my stupid suit.

  You may as well have just taped a sign to my back saying, ‘NUTCASE!’ Anything to ward people off and avoid the awkward scenario of, ‘Aww. You go have a cry in the loos and take your P45 on the way out.’

  I said to myself yet again, Fuck that shit… I am going to make the best of it.

  A guy came wandering over in a light-blue polo shirt and I groaned inwardly. Was there nobody dressed smart!?

  “Ah, right, Kip. Chloe needs setting up, can you do all the usual? She’ll need a new profile and password. Databases with passwords too… and she’ll need Office and all that. I know we’re not meant to but fuck it… give her access to the other stuff too.”

  Ash stood and I was about to ask if I were actually being employed by MI5—would I need a car with gadgetry, a watch with lasers and a gun with untraceable bullets?

  “Chloe, I will leave you in Kip’s capable hands. We’re having our weekly editorial meeting at 11, so it’ll be the perfect opportunity to introduce you to everyone… okay?” He actually sounded perky then, probably because he was about to sneak off for a cig or perhaps a swig of the gin and juice he kept under his desk.

  I nodded slowly as it sank in. Meeting? With people? That made me feel a little bit sick. Editorial? Everyone?

  I was the new girl everyone was going to hate.

  Wasn’t I?!

  Just as Ash was leaving, I asked, “Am I going to be doing any work today?”

  He stepped back an inch and smiled, “Not today, Chloe. Our training guy Trev will sort you out after the meeting though, okay? He’ll set you up alright.”

  “Sure, okay,” I said quietly, cowering like I meant it.

  What I really felt was irked and unsure. This job was going to be the worst thing I’d ever undertaken, wasn’t it? I wanted to work, to write, not be stuck wasting time while I organised dozens of passwords for my numerous database systems and email folders.

  The day looked up however when this guy, Kip, sat down next to me and asked if I could move across so he could access my machine. He was handsome and had broad shoulders. I noticed when I looked closer, his shirt was emblazoned with the letters, IT Services.

  “What does Kip mean?” I smirked.

  What was wrong with a little harmless flirtation? After all what did an affair with an IT guy mean when I was going to be out of that place within three months, probably…?

  “It’s just a nickname, that’s all,” he said, not looking at me, his eyes fixed on the screen in front.

  “Short for kipper?” I tried to make a joke, but it backfired. He didn’t laugh or look at me. In fact I couldn’t read him at all. I knew my jokes were abysmal but hey, applaud a girl for trying, right? He just grunted, kind of, before asking for my name and employee number.

  The next half hour or so passed in painful silence while he loaded up a lot of systems on my profile thingamabob. I watched as if I cared, as if I knew what he was doing, nodding and murmuring now and again. It was awkward as hell.

  “What are you going to be doing in this place, then?” he finally asked, as if he had been working up to grilling me.

  “Well,” I began, excited to be able to talk about my new role. “I reported on crime and general news where I used to work. However, while I’m here I’ll be looking at showbiz features! Can you believe it?”

  He cleared his throat. “Sounds… great! A bit of a change for you.”

  He typed away, not really looking at me. Was he at all interested in anything I had to say? I thought it was rude that he wasn’t giving me eye contact.

  “It will be, hopefully. A lot of news networks take copy from here so my words will reach a lot farther than they did before!”

  I knew I sounded stupidly eager and happy, but I was. Kip, however, didn’t find this interesting. Or else, he didn’t want to show it.

  “You’ll love it here, I’m sure,” he said dryly.

  “You think?” Like I believed that.

  I was very good at portraying myself the ditz when I was anything but. It was a tactic I used when I was that nervous, I felt it was the only way to ingratiate myself.

  “Sure, of course. If you like sitting amongst miserable, whiney bastards all day long.”

  “Just my kind of people,” I retorted defiantly. Fuck him.

  I went into my bag and fetched my phone, making sure I’d put it on silent. I took a notepad out too and pretended to look important. I realised Ash hadn’t even told me where to get tea and coffee from. I looked around and saw people with cups in hand, wandering in and out of a small room at the end of the newsroom’s long corridor.

  Taking the initiative I warned Kip, “I’m going for coffee. That’s okay, right?”

  “Yep,” he nodded, only glancing at me. “I’m getting there with all this. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

  His fingers worked fast on those keys and I really hoped he’d be gone soon, so I couldn’t embarrass myself further with any more stupid small talk.

  When I stood, I spotted a hat stand at the end of our bank of desks and walked over, placing my ruby-red, woollen coat on a peg alongside a load of other jackets and coats. While I walked the carpeted floor, nobody looked up, eyes trained firmly on their monitors in defiance.

  I took my purse to the kitchen and walked in to find it empty. Great. I didn’t need to risk giving anyone else the impression that I was a brain-dead initiate who wouldn’t last five minutes.

  Chapter 3

  I SLUNG A pound coin in the instant drinks machine and pressed for my second cappuccino of the day. The contraption gurgled and whirred with a strange hiss until stuff came splurging out. I removed the cup to taste it and wondered whether I’d gotten it wrong. Totally gross, I thought I’d ordered a cup of oxtail soup by mistake.

  Tomorrow I’ll bring my own, I groaned inwardly and kicked myself for being unprepared for the practicalities.

  I swilled what was supposed to be my drink down the sink and cursed that blasted machine with a swift kick to its side. A quid, wasted. I went to the window to look out and the city stared back—rooftops and tourist sites and so many possibilities. So I knew even if the job was crappy I could make the best of living in London if nothing else. EVEN IF it were only for the three-month probation. The Telegraph would always have me back, I consoled myself.

  Yet, I felt lost. Out of my depth. I leaned over the windowsill and took a deep breath. I’d left everything I’d ever known behind. I knew one person in London and I was staying with her in a crummy little bedsit in Notting Hill until I got myself sorted out. Kay had dragged me out drinking all weekend while she cried into
her Chardonnay about her asswipe boyfriend Rob, so I hadn’t had time to clean her flat… but I knew it was going to happen soon. Her place would send me insane unless I might be able to organise it! I reflected on why I’d gotten myself into this mess. Put simply, I’d wanted to write professionally ever since forever and this was the best offer I’d had yet.

  The kitchen door swung open and I didn’t look behind me. I thought it’d be nobody of interest and I just continued to stare out of the window.

  I almost forgot I had company. Until he drummed up the courage to speak, a moment or so later.

  “First day?” I heard the words of a male American.

  I hoped he was nice. Maybe, being American, he wouldn’t have such a big stick up his ass.

  “Am I that easy to spot?” I drawled, not caring to mirror these twats anymore. I’d be myself, that was better. “Must have new girl written all over me? Stupid suit… stupid grin. Next week… I’ll be wearing my pyjamas to work and a perpetual scowl.”

  He chuckled from his belly and I heard a tap running at the sink, so I turned casually, a smile on my face finally.

  Yet what I saw made me stop and stare. The vision was large and handsome. First I saw his long legs, his belted waist and chunky thighs hugged by designer jeans. He stood with his legs spread in way that meant he wasn’t at one with standing still. I looked up further and past the wide torso filling his blue shirt and open collar—was dark beauty that sucked breath from me.

  Just the right amount of scruff. Short hair… and tanned skin. Sharp, blue eyes to blaze a trail through even my cold heart.

  “Least you’re honest,” he said.

  “You work out?” I practically barked, babbling. Cut off my fucking tongue!

  I wondered if he’d notice if I just squeezed his arm a little, just to check he was real. I quickly grabbed a hold of the window ledge and clung on.

  “Been boxing since…” he looked up at the ceiling to consider his answer, “…since 14. Thai boxing.”

  Wow. I don’t know why I asked except I could see he wasn’t like the other guys who lived in their loafers and their holey pub jumpers. He was built like… an athlete.

  “I know karate,” I blurted, very suddenly finding myself having an actual conversation with someone. “A friend got me into it.”

  “I tried it,” his nose wrinkled up, “but boxing suited me better, you know?”

  “Hardest training on God’s Earth, right?”

  He grinned, catching glances when he could. “I love the demands.”

  “Yeah.”

  The man was seriously drop-dead. My heart thwacked while he stirred his drink. His profile had me mesmerized. He was actually pretty, just in a totally masculine way.

  “Is the machine coffee always this horrific?” I somehow managed to say.

  He busied himself with his drink and nodded a lot, gesticulating with his stirring stick. “Yeah, real nasty. What you had was probably a good day. Most times, it tries to pass a few greasy drops off as coffee… you were probably lucky not to get spat at in your shiny new suit.”

  I groaned, scrubbing my cheeks with my knuckles. “Please, don’t mention this fucking thing, okay?”

  His lips were pink and perfect but a slight overbite had me thinking about nibbling his mouth and just…

  You know when they say when you meet The One, you just know, well I knew that day I had been struck. His shoulders, his chest… just… his voice. I dared not let my gaze drift elsewhere. I might have lost control of myself.

  “I have a spare mug and a jar of coffee here, if you want…?”

  Four or more inches taller than me.

  He could barely look me in the eye either.

  “Really?” I said, like the sad, desperate woman I was. I gushed, “That’d be great!”

  He swung a plain white mug from a cupboard and tipped some coffee from a jar. He raised the mug to the hot water dispenser and I watched, enraptured, while this gorgeous man made me coffee. I didn’t even know his name. All I knew was that he was the first person to be kind that day.

  “Creamer? Sugar?” His tone was sardonic. “We got it all going on now.”

  “Yes!” It was all I knew to say.

  He walked toward me to hand me the drink and as he got closer, I saw how blue his eyes really were, magnified against the light streaming through the blinds. He smelled like roots, I don’t know, like earth and spice. His eyes—I wished he’d pin them on me all the time. They were deep-blue, decorated with emerald-green flecks. His pinkie accidentally brushed my hand when he gave me the cup and I swear, I nearly dropped the damn thing. It’d look good if I scolded someone on my first day, wouldn’t it?

  We both looked down to where we had momentarily touched and the electricity was almost blinding. That stupid voice of reason shouted me down from Cloud Nine.

  I thought quickly. An introduction. “I’m Chloe.”

  I needed to know his bloody name.

  I held my hand out and he looked at my outstretched fingers like they were a temptation he should avoid. He scratched the imaginary rash on his neck but shook my hand anyway.

  With a slight wink he revealed, “Kincaid, the coffee man. Friends call me Cai… or jerk-off. Depending on what city I’m in.”

  “Kincaid. Wow. Never heard that name before.” Great name. Great. All manner of expletives were joining with that name in my sick, depraved little inner-imagination. Could he see my thoughts? Could people tell when I zoned out and went to my world of self-amusement?

  “It’s what the American elite do… give their darlings surnames as forenames to make them seem more mighty,” he explained, looking amused from behind his coffee cup. “Cai for short is a subversion of that, I guess.”

  He sniggered, proud of his alleged subversion. I sensed he was clutching at any words he could muster. If he was as attracted to me as I was to him, he was struggling with it more.

  I laughed nervously. “New Yorker?”

  “That obvious?” He grinned.

  “You have that unapologetic attitude thing going on, plus you actually know what irony is. Most Americans don’t,” I said, thinking back to all the foreign students I’d met in university—though they probably weren’t a good sample spread.

  He spat out his drink a little. “Might have to watch my back, in case the irony police catch up with me now you’ve had words downtown.”

  We smiled that awkward, genial exchange of pleasantries again, before someone else came into the kitchen. I wondered how long we’d actually been in there. It could have been five minutes or five hours. Time skidded unsteadily while I was in his presence. Anyway we took our cue to leave, and without words, he virtually walked me back to my desk.

  “Later,” he said, and strode off to wherever he was headed.

  I lost sight of him amongst the masses of people, desks, TV screens and room dividers, but soon enough found myself back at my desk. I might have kicked myself a little for saying he had attitude and all that. Anyway, Kip was still there faffing with all my accounts and passwords.

  “Hey, I hope I didn’t miss anything important?” I said, my teeth chattering. The air conditioning combined with the loss of warmth Kincaid evoked was inexorable.

  “I’ve got you all kitted out here,” Kip’s voice cut through the cool air to remind me I was at work—it was still my first day and I was meant to be making a good impression. He motioned to my iMac and to an assortment of other devices he’d produced since I’d been in the kitchen. “Handset, iPad, headset, chargers… we don’t usually hand out laptops at this stage, but you might be able to get one further down the line. Just depends on your requirements.”

  His treatment of me was so mechanical, it almost hurt my feelings. Almost. I was used to a bit of banter and a chuckle, you know, but these technical minds were more concerned with achieving results I guess.

  “At the end of the day I leave all this stuff here, right?”

  He just looked at me like I was some craz
ed loon—and there was that grunt again. I fiddled with some of it and got lost thinking about how hard this job might be.

  “I’ve written all your passwords down on this,” he passed me a post-it, replacing a wad of them back in his pocket, “I also put my extension on there. You just key in those four digits on your landline. Honestly, though, it’s all a piece of piss. Just… get yourself accustomed and away you go.”

  Kip rose from his chair and I moved mine back into position to sit in front of my monitor.

  “Okay, thanks,” I said hesitantly, and he vanished behind a door, or a room divider, somewhere.

  Finally, something to do.

  I looked around the Mac and found it accessible, easy. Opening my email I found I already had 36 mails to go through. I was on a ton of mailing lists. Jeez.

  I looked at my watch and saw it was already 10.23a.m. Didn’t leave me long to consider how much I was shitting that meeting.

  I drained my coffee cup and wondered whether Kincaid would be working with me. Whether he was elsewhere… whether he might be even in this bloody editorial meeting!

  When Ash wandered over, a mug in his grasp, he gestured with his eyes that it was time and I followed him.

  WHEN I was asked to stand up and introduce myself, I said, “I’m Chloe Harmon… and well, I don’t have anything interesting to say about myself. I haven’t met or dated anyone famous. I shagged a teacher, but, I was an adult. So it wasn’t that amazing. God, anyway, I hate football. Maybe that’s cos I’m from Barnsley or it might just be that I can’t kick to save my life. Anyway, I worked for the Sheffield Telegraph for nine years before I came here. I celebrated my 30th birthday last week… and to tell you the truth, I’ve only just woken from the fog of the world’s worst hangover…”

  Shit. I knew I came across as a total freak but mouth lurched into action before brain sometimes. Especially with several pairs of eyes either trained on me, or trained away. Those looking at me might have thought me a dickhead, those looking away were obviously bored.

  I was just an ordinary girl with a talent and didn’t really know how to get round all these professional fuckers who were looking at me like my shit stank.