by Nikki Moore
‘Who is she?’ He jolts like I’ve stuck a cattle prod somewhere unmentionable and electrocuted him.
‘The reason you’ve been so stressed?’
‘Yes. Her. Louise.’ He lopes over to the bar and cracks open two bottles of cola. ‘Here.’
‘Thanks.’ I accept it gratefully. ‘So. Louise? Who is she?’ Taking a thirsty gulp.
‘My wife.’
‘What?’ I splutter and cough, leaning over to cup a hand over my nose, scared drink will shoot out of it. Please no. Not a married man. There’s never been a whiff of it in the papers. This cynical guy actually loved someone enough to walk them down the aisle? Wow. I can’t pinpoint the odd feeling in my chest at the thought.
‘Are you okay?’ He pats my back a few times and I block out the warmth of his palm through my suit jacket.
‘Uh-huh,’ I wheeze. Scooting forward, I put the bottle down rather than break it with tightened fingers. ‘I didn’t know you were married.’ Please tell me this isn’t one of those stories where his wife doesn’t understand him and that’s why he almost strayed.
‘Not many people do.’ He touches my shoulder as I sit up, gazing deep in my eyes. As if unable to stop himself, he tucks my hair behind my ear, making my skin go goose bumpy. ‘Very soon we won’t be married. Our divorce is almost final. We’ve been separated for two years.’
‘Right,’ I mutter. Alex has integrity, and as far as I know has never lied to me, despite concealing his wife’s existence, though by the sound of it that’s been from the world in general. Reaching forward and grabbing my drink again, I take a big gulp, feeling confused. Am I relieved because if he’s being honest I haven’t helped him semi-commit adultery, or because it means he’s available?
‘Aren’t you going to ask me any more questions?’
‘Nope. I’m whipped. I had a late night last night.’
I definitely don’t want all the gory details about his ex, about how glamorous and high society she is.
‘I know.’ He stares at me meaningfully. ‘I remember some fierce red-haired she-monster slamming the door in my face.’
‘That was nothing,’ I say lightly. ‘You should see me when I get my hulk on.’
‘Yes. I’d hate to see you when you're really ferocious.’
‘Positively scary.’ I wiggle my eyebrow and manage to put the half full bottle on the table without spilling it. He smiles and I smile and then we’re smiling together and I feel that unbelievable spark between us. The tingle along the back of my neck warns me not get in any deeper.
My smile fades and I stand up, but Alex grabs my hand.
‘Where are you going?’
Gesturing to the wall clock: ‘We need to go.’
‘We have a few minutes. I got sidetracked, haven’t said everything I need to.’ He tugs on my fingers and I try to ignore the zing it creates between my thighs. ‘I feel bad about last night—’
Mortification burns and along with it, pride surfaces. I’m not some naive little school girl and I won’t have him feeling sorry for me. ‘I’m sorry I slammed the door in your face but don’t worry about it, I understand. You have baggage. We all do. Don’t lose sleep over it, I won’t.’ Liar, liar your pants are positively roasting.
He pulls on my hand. ‘Well, I might. I don’t usually do that sort of thing.’
‘What?’ I ask, sitting back down. ‘Fooling around with women you hardly know?’
‘Um.’ He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. ‘Not exactly.’
‘Wow.’ That makes a girl feel special. Picking up the bottle, I start to peel the label off.
My thoughts must be reflected in my expression because he closes his intense blue eyes then reopens them, ‘I don't usually kiss women I work with,’ he growls. ‘Or immediately ask them not to disclose it. I acted like an insensitive idiot and insulted you. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s fine,’ I respond neutrally. ‘You’ve already told me you got spooked because we’re working together and you can’t appear a hypocrite. We’re going round in circles. The only thing I’m not sure of is whether you live like a monk or not.’ Why did I say that? He’ll think I’m fishing.
Hesitating, he runs a hand through his hair. ‘You need to understand, the world I live in has its own rules.’
‘And?’
‘You go out socially as a couple for business or PR reasons and it makes sense to extend it to other areas. It’s convenient. But any arrangement I have, both parties are clear what the rules are.’
I laugh in disbelief. ‘Yeurgh! It sounds so … cold.’ I look at him, puzzled. It’s so at odds with the hot-blooded guy I’ve started to know. The one who kissed me, the one who pinned me against the wall. I blush. ‘And if you want the correct definition, I think you mean friends with benefits, which isn’t exclusive to your world. More disturbing is the way you’re talking about casual relationships like they’re contracts. I’m sorry Alex, but people’s emotions don’t behave according to a set of logically laid out terms and conditions.’
‘I wasn’t inviting a commentary on my private life.’
‘What were you doing then?’ Anger sends a sparkle of pain across my temples.
‘Explaining my actions last night.’ A pause. ‘The truth is, I panicked.’
‘Panicked? Because I might tell people?’
‘Yes. But mainly because I can’t make the same mistakes again. Too many people get hurt.’ He stomps all over my attempt to ask him what he’s on about. ‘It shouldn’t have happened. I should have had more control.’
Slamming the bottle down on the table, I rear up. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, or patronising! We were two consenting adults. You hardly ravished me against my will. We’re not in some regency novel where you’re the Lord of the manor. We live in the modern world.’
‘But those kinds of books are about honour, aren’t they?’ He comes out of his seat to tower over me. ‘About keeping it and losing it? And this situation is about honour. It’s something instilled in me since childhood. Honour is a big thing in the Greek half of my culture, modern world or not.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously.’
‘So what compromised your control?’ I demand. ‘What made you lose it?’ Say I’m not like the others. Even as I think it, I know I shouldn’t.
He shoves his hands in his pockets. ‘I’m not thinking straight with everything that’s going on. And you’re absolutely gorgeous … and you wanted me.’
‘So anyone half presentable, up for it, and within reach would have done.’ As much as I don’t want it to, my voice trembles. ‘Thanks very much.’ I spin away. ‘I’m just going to grab something from my room. I’ll see you down there.’ I march across the room, movements stiff and jerky.
‘Charley, come back.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Slamming the door, I lock it tight, needing a few moments to myself.
Men!
Chapter Eighteen
The sound of my fingers pounding away at the laptop seems disproportionately loud, as Alex and his Chief Finance Officer Greg agree on a list of actions with corresponding timescales. There’s a different feel to this meeting and I wonder if they’re friends as well as colleagues.
‘Quarter three,’ I correct them.
‘Pardon?’ Alex’s head lifts.
‘I think you mean quarter three, not two.’
Frowning, he checks the paperwork. ‘You’re right, thank you.’
‘Of course.’
With a final comment of, ‘We need to watch those costs and we’ll be on track for quarter four,’ Alex stands, and I do as well. ‘That’s it, we’re done.’ He shakes his CFO’s hand, ‘Thanks for your time, Greg. Have a good flight home in the morning.’
‘Same goes, but perhaps we can have a drink in the bar later?’
‘That would be good.’ Alex grins then after seeing him out turns to face me, unbuttoning his jacket. ‘Charley, I think you took my comment the wrong way earlier. I know
it came out wrong.’ He raises his eyebrows, looking at me hopefully. ‘Really, really wrong,’ he tacks on gravely.
I shrug and stare out the window, trying not to let the comment mean anything, determined not to get further involved for the sake of my sanity.
‘I care even if you don’t,’ Alex says roughly.
A tap on the door cuts off whatever else he was about to say and his face goes blank. ‘Good afternoon, you must be Tony. How are you?’
My blood freezes in my veins, time slowing.
It can’t be.
But it is. Alex’s broad shoulders block the doorway, shielding the person from view, but as the visitor answers in a deferential tone I recognise the voice.
‘Yes. Fine, thank you sir, and you?’
I struggle to draw in quiet, even breaths, instead of short, panicky ones. What the hell? What’s he doing here?
‘I can’t complain,’ Alex says formally. ‘Take a seat.’
And with that, in swaggers the man who turned everything in my life upside down, who ruined my career, my credibility and my prospects. I drop into my chair, head down to hide my face, giving myself a moment to think before he sees me.
Oh, God. I can’t be here.
The room falls away, Alex and Tony’s voices going muffled like I’m underwater. My ears pop and light spots in front of my eyes join together so my whole vision goes bright white, warm clamminess spreading over my body. It’s scary and disorienting. Sweat beads my forehead and I tuck my chin closer to my chest as I fight to breathe, to think. In, out. In, out. What am I going to do? I can’t let them see me this way – weak. It’ll pass. It has to pass. Thankfully the oxygen starts filtering back into my body and my sight starts clearing. It must be a stress reaction. Sitting still while it lifts completely, I wonder if Alex or Tony noticed.
There’s the shifting of furniture and bastard-face sits down to my right. I catch a waft of the aftershave I disliked so intensely, and raw emotions hit, coagulating in my stomach. Fear, anger, seething frustration, sadness … jamming into a ball of concrete in my throat. I shiver, blood whooshing through my veins, heart thudding. Ba–doom, ba–doom, ba–doom. I can’t look at Tony there is so much turmoil inside, but at last my pride kicks in, and I sit up straighter.
Of all the ways I’d imagined seeing my ex-assistant again this wasn't one of them. I had daydreams of dramatic scenes where I’d tell the world what he’d done, giving an impassioned speech for justice that’d bring tears to people’s eyes and a spontaneous round of applause. Then he’d get his comeuppance somehow, before crawling into a deep dark hole, never to be seen or heard from again. And I’d magically get my old life back. Yes, all a bit Dynasty I know, but the mind works in funny ways.
I definitely didn’t think I’d be stuck in a small room with him and another person oblivious to the undercurrents. Plus I’m at a massive disadvantage. If Tony greets me by name it'll blow my cover, and Alex will find out the truth in the worst way possible. I quake, but anger and resentment step in. Don’t let him win again. Don’t let him see you rattled. Take control. I stare at the thick black carpet, then study the polished glass table, the shiny metal of its legs, the huge square windows and white blinds, until I’m calmer, steady.
Then, lifting my chin, I look directly at Tony, gaze raking over his straw yellow hair and pinkish complexion, which drains of colour with the shock I read in his flinty eyes. His attention switches to Alex and back to me and his lips shape something before he recovers, suspicion narrowing his glare.
‘Is there a problem Mr Ferrier?’ Alex asks, eyebrows pulling together.
‘No.’ He studies my face but I stare back at him blankly. Let him wonder. ‘I thought your assistant was a man? Did he leave?’
Alex glances at me. ‘No. He’s ill. Miss Caswell came via an agency.’ He doesn’t notice Tony raising his eyebrows at my assumed name, too busy shuffling the papers next to his elbow.
‘Let’s begin. We’ve held a number of these meetings today and this is the last of them.’ Smiling at me: ‘Sorry Charley, I should have said. This is Tony Ferrier. He’s a new management trainee, due to go off to Africa with the expanded programme soon. He’s acting manager of our flagship branch in London. Do you know it?’
He can’t know every word is like a stiletto grinding splintered glass into my bruised heart. ‘Yes, I know it,’ I respond politely, though inside I’m seething.
I don’t believe it. Tony has taken my job two times over. First in ejecting me from it and second in stealing it. It must be recent or Kitty would have called. God, they must hate working under him. I freeze. What if he starts coming on to them too? As manager he’s in a stronger position than he ever was. I have to find a way to block him. Wait. Was this what it was all about from the beginning? Getting my job?
‘Thank you Alex.’ I conjure a smile to aim at my temporary boss, then turn it on Tony, baring my teeth. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Ferrier.’ Not.
Tony’s gaze flickers between Alex and I, probably trying to work out how much Alex knows.
‘Pleased to meet you, Charley. I used to know a Charlotte,’ he muses, ‘she was an interesting woman.’
‘I’m sure you’ve lots of stories to tell, Tony,’ Alex interjects smoothly, ‘but if you don’t mind, now isn’t the time for them.’
Tony shifts his attention. ‘Yes, of course,’ he agrees, ‘sorry. Sometimes I just get carried away with memories of happier times, like—’
‘Ouch!’ I cry, jerking my hand away from a piece of paper.
Alex reaches over to touch my arm, ‘Are you okay?’
A spot of warmth grows in me at his concern.
‘Charley?’ His big hand wraps around my wrist and the zing of it, even in these circumstances, amazes me.
Tony’s eyes zero in on the physical contact, his expression first assessing then worried. He runs a finger along the inside of his shirt collar.
‘Yes, Sorry. Paper cut.’ I slip my arm from Alex’s grip, hold up my bleeding finger, glad my distraction worked. I wonder why, given his obsession with privacy, Alex would be so hands-on in front of another employee.
‘If you’re sure.’ He swivels back to Tony. Strange he doesn’t notice bastard-face’s pallor when he notices everything about me. ‘So, quarter one, the beginning of the financial year.’
Tapping out notes of their conversation, I find the sound of Alex’s deep voice oddly soothing. Weird. I do my best to ignore Tony, getting lost in the Q1 report, facts and figures I know back to front and sideways, as I was at the casino until late summer, half way into quarter two. They’re stats I input into spreadsheets and analysed myself. My rage grows exponentially and I stab the keyboard keys, wishing they were Tony’s face.
After five minutes, during which Tony takes credit for the successful results and high profit margins, never mind all the hard work of the entire staff, my jaw is aching from clenching my teeth so hard. It’s an incredible effort not to spring out of my chair and start ranting at both of them; Tony for being such a devious bastard and Alex for trusting one.
‘Thanks. I think we’re done. Good results, nice to meet you.’ Alex shakes Tony’s hand twenty minutes later and I want to warn him to go scrub with high end detergent. Saving the document, I log off the laptop, needing to get away and re-gather my thoughts. But it’s backed up and takes forever to co-operate. I fight the urge to fling it across the room at Tony as he stares at me with a creepy smirk.
Alex’s mobile rings. ‘Excuse me, I have to take this,’ he says, exiting swiftly, shutting the door behind him.
Dismay wallops me. Don’t leave me alone with him! I want to yell.
No. You can handle this. And if he lays a hand on you, just scream the bloody place down.
Crossing his arms, Tony squares his rounded rugby shoulders and raises a menacing eyebrow. ‘Hello again, boss. Going somewhere?’ he sneers.
I can’t help it, I snigger. He’s ridiculous, trying to be some tough East End gangster or something
. The stance and comment are probably designed to intimidate, but have the opposite effect.
‘Are you being serious?’ I snort. ‘Is that all you’ve got?’
Flushing, he drops his arms. ‘I wouldn’t be so confident. My best has already floored you, hasn’t it?’
He’s not as broad as Alex. In fact he’s a lot smaller than I remember. I step closer and realise I tower above him. ‘I think floored is a bit of an overstatement. After all, I’m here aren’t I?’
For months I’ve been shadowed by him and his actions, but he isn’t a monster, I see it now. He’s just a man. A spoilt, immature, playground bully who likes to dominate, who finds sneaky ways to take what doesn’t belong to him because he’s not good enough to earn them like everyone else. Adrenalin hits with a surge of primitive anger, my heartbeat accelerating, blood pressure rising. Really, what else can he do to me?
I haven’t been a victim so far – because I kept on fighting, kept getting back up, so I definitely won’t be a victim now.
How do you beat a bully? I think back to black-haired Sally Benson in primary school who tripped me over in class and called me names every day for weeks, and how that was resolved.
You show bullies no fear.
I chuckle. ‘If that’s it … ’ Snapping the laptop shut, I place it on Alex’s pile of stuff, pick up my bag and circle the table, ‘I’ll be off.’
He steps into my path. ‘You don’t get off that easily,’ he spits. ‘Are you going to tell me?’
I stare him down. ‘Tell you what?’
‘What the hell you’re doing here!’
‘What does it look like? I’m working, no thanks to you.’
‘Oh dear,’ he moves nearer, ‘been having trouble finding gainful employment?’
The statement is so inadequate to describe all the pain he’s caused it chokes the words in my throat. Fury flashes and I step right up into his face, teeth gritted … and he flinches.
He’s scared of me.
I know the moment will be etched in my brain forever, a glowing memory I can hold onto when things are tough. I’d never hurt anyone physically but this man deserves to hear what I think of him.