by Mandy Lee
‘Like every other kid.’
‘But rich.’
He taps the table and turns away. Catching sight of a pigeon underneath a neighbouring table, he watches its progress as it scavenges for crumbs.
‘I was given opportunities,’ he says at last. ‘For which I’m grateful. Apart from that, what else is there to know?’
At the sound of a ping, he reaches into his jacket pocket for his mobile. Opening a message, he frowns and shoves the phone back into his pocket before spending the next few seconds chewing his lip.
‘Who was that from?’
‘Nobody important.’
‘But it’s irritated you.’
‘It has.’ He checks his watch. ‘I can’t avoid it any more. I’m sorry. I need to get into work.’
Without warning, he pushes back his chair, pulls me up to my feet and draws me in to his chest. Held firmly against him, I feel his hand under my chin. He tilts my head back and kisses me gently, before skimming his lips across mine.
‘How does this feel?’ he asks.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just tell me, Maya. How does it feel having my arms around you?’
I shake my head. I’m not really sure what he’s after.
‘It feels good,’ I murmur.
‘I need more.’
‘I don’t know, Dan. I feel relaxed, comfortable. I don’t feel anxious when I’m with you. I like it.’ I hesitate, not knowing whether or not it’s a good idea to tag on the next bit. But, what the hell. ‘I love it.’
‘Good.’ He brushes a finger against my lips. ‘Remember that feeling while I’m away. Know that you can trust me. And no running. No matter what happens.’ He pauses, as if the next words are finding it difficult to form themselves. ‘No matter what people say.’
‘No matter,’ I promise unevenly, wondering what on Earth people could say that would make me run for the hills.
‘Remember this.’ He kisses me gently one more time. ‘Because this is your sanctuary now, Maya. Right here.’
Chapter Nineteen
‘Ready to go in now?’
I nod. His hand is still clasped firmly around mine, just as it has been all the way down here from the Albert Embankment. We’re standing together on the broadened walkway right outside Fosters Construction and even though he’s spent the entire morning either fucking me senseless or psychoanalysing me, somewhere along the way, that pesky little word has crept its way back into my brain. I’ve wrestled with it and shown it the exit, more than once, only this time, it’s digging in its heels, shaking its head and resolutely refusing to go. So, am I already in love? Can it really be possible? Because if I am, then what am I in love with? I still barely know the man.
‘Dan?’
‘Yup?’
‘If you keep hold of my hand, all of your employees are going to know there’s something going on here.’
His grip tightens again.
‘Let them. I like this hand holding business. If they can’t deal with it, that’s their problem.’
Without another word, he leads me in through the revolving doors, shooting a brisk ‘good morning’ at the doorman and half dragging me across the lobby. There’s just about enough time to catch sight of the gawping receptionists before the lift doors open and I’m hauled inside. For a few precious seconds we’re alone. He locks eyes with me, smiling mischievously and I begin to quake. But it doesn’t last for long. From the first floor upwards, the doors open time and time again, and we’re joined by one unsuspecting employee after another. In turn, each one registers the hand that has me in its grip, steps dubiously inside the lift, and sets about staring at their shoes.
‘And don’t forget Saturday. Ten o’clock. Be ready.’
I realise that he’s talking to me. Here and there, a head twitches, an eyebrow bounces up and down. Oh God, this is excruciating, knowing that they just can’t wait to get to their respective offices and start spreading the news. Mr Foster’s broken the habit of a lifetime. He’s dating an employee. And more than that, it’s a simple office girl. I can just imagine all the gaping mouths and the bitchy comments. What? The secretary in Norman’s office? What’s she got that we haven’t got? We reach the fourteenth floor and I’m jolted out of my thoughts by a hard squeeze of my hand.
‘Wear jeans and a T-shirt.’ He grins, flashing his eyes, and I’ve forgotten all my worries about the soon-to-be-spreading rumours. ‘That’s an order.’
I’m released from his grip and sent on my way with a tap on my backside.
I open the door to Norman’s bubble to find that Jodie’s already busy sharpening a pencil, while through the open doorway, Norman’s deep in conversation on the phone. Throwing my bag onto the floor, I settle into my chair and gaze at the desk. There’s my mobile, exactly where I left it yesterday, languishing between the romantic novel and the jar of sweet peas. I pick it up and check my messages: two from Lucy, both asking if I’m okay, and one from my sister. I deal quickly with Lucy, telling her exactly where I’ve been, imagining the squeals of delight as she realises that I’ve had another good seeing to. And then I open up the message from Sara.
What are you doing this weekend?
Oh great, that’s all I need. Sara hardly ever bothers to contact me, only when she’s had an argument with the gruesome husband, only when she expects to be propped up by the faithful little sister. Well, I’m doing no propping up this weekend because I’m spending it with the most amazing man I’ve ever met. I have a mission to peel back his layers, and there’s no way I’m going to jeopardise that. I text back.
I’m busy. Sorry. How about another time?
For a few moments, I feel guilty and then I wonder what I’m feeling guilty for.
‘Maya.’
Norman’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts. I glance up to find the big teddy bear standing in front of me with a handful of scrunched up papers. At first, I’m stunned that he’s actually got any work for me to do at all, and then I’m overcome with dread. Oh great, another hour or so wrestling with hieroglyphic scratchings. And I’m distinctly worried about the way he’s looking at me when he approaches my desk.
‘I need you to type up a few bits for me today.’
‘Great!’
‘It’s the Tyneside redundancy deals.’ He pauses for a moment. The creases in his face pucker up. ‘I don’t really know what’s going on.’
Well, don’t ask me, I’d like to shoot back at him. I’m just a plain and simple office girl who’s secretly a kick-ass artist, and who’s currently not-so-secretly dating your boss. If you can call it dating.
‘Maya, I’m a little concerned.’
‘What about?’
‘About how things are going.’
‘Things are fine, Norman.’
‘It’s just that I’ve heard a little rumour.’
Wonderful. So, it’s less than half an hour since we were spotted together in the lift, and the gossip has already spread around the building.
‘Oh.’
‘Are you … is there … are you … are you seeing?
It’s definitely time to put him out of his misery.
‘I think so, Norman.’
‘Oh.’
‘You don’t sound very pleased.’
‘I’m surprised, that’s all.’ The creases gather together one more time. ‘Well, actually, I’m a little worried.’
I’d half expected this, I suppose. Norman must know something about Dan’s reputation and he’s obviously grown to like me while I’ve been sitting in his office doing absolutely bugger all. I suppose it was pretty inevitable that he’d want to dish out a few words of completely unnecessary advice. I’ll just let him get on with it.
‘I’ll be fine, Norman.’
An eyebrow struggles to raise itself. It’s not that easy on Norman’s forehead, not with all the wrinkles getting in the way.
‘It’s not you I’m worried about,’ he says quickly before disappearing back inside his office.<
br />
My mouth has fallen open. I know it has. But there’s precious little I can do about it. Gaping at Norman through the open doorway, I’m temporarily wrapped in confusion until at some point, my brain finally manages to re-boot itself. Norman’s worried? And he’s worried about Dan? But what can he possibly be worried about? At last, I manage to close my mouth. The world comes back into focus and I find the pink one sucking on her freshly sharpened pencil, inspecting me closely as if I’m some sort of alien species.
‘You and Mr Foster?’ She slips the pencil out of her mouth.
‘Kind of.’
‘Bloody hell.’ With a shrug, she opens a drawer and produces a Sudoku book. ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ she mutters, diving in for the first puzzle of the day.
***
By twelve o’clock, I’ve managed to decode just about every last one of Norman’s scribbles. Knowing that Dan’s already left for Edinburgh, I make my way out for a solitary lunch. And maybe that’s just what I need. After all, I could do with a little time on my own to take stock of the strange new direction my life seems to be taking. I’ll try Borough Market perhaps, get myself a takeaway dish and sit in the grounds of the cathedral. But I don’t get a chance. As soon as I’m out of the revolving doors, I’m stopped in my tracks.
‘Maya.’
With frightening speed, he moves in front of me, blocking my way. Wobbling on my heels, I look up into the face of Clive Watson.
‘Jesus,’ I gasp, taking in the fact that he’s got a black eye.
‘Any plans for lunch?’
‘I was just …’ For no apparent reason, I point at a random tree. But bloody hell, excuse me. Why has he got a black eye?
‘No plans then,’ he scowls. ‘You can come with me.’
‘I …’
Oh Jesus, that’s Dan’s work. I’m pretty sure of it. They’ve had some sort of almighty ding-dong. But what about? I stare at the scowling face, and wonder why on Earth he should be so determined to take me out for lunch. An idea edges its way into my head. It’s entirely possible that Mr Watson has his own designs on me. And maybe that’s why he’s standing right in front of me now, demanding that I go to lunch with him. But that’s ridiculous. I’m no Elizabeth Taylor, for fuck’s sake. Men just don’t fight over me. No. This black-eyed, scowling man simply wants to spread his venom. Just like Norman, he’s convinced that I’m bad news for the world of Daniel Foster. Well, let him. I’ll go out to lunch with this sly piece of work and I’ll put him in his place.
‘Let’s go then,’ I say briskly.
In silence, he leads the way through the cobbled backstreets, away from the river and finally down a narrow alley where the shadows quickly gather. Here, out of the sunlight, I’m chilled. I have no idea whether it’s down to the air temperature or the fact that I have a serious sense of foreboding about this situation. Whatever it is, before long, he comes to a halt outside a bar. Pushing open the door, he stands back and waits for me to enter. I’m ushered straight through the main section of the bar, past a smattering of lunchtime punters, into a gloomy back room that hasn’t been renovated in years. We settle ourselves into a booth where red leather bench seats curl their way around a dark, ebony table. He picks up a menu and studies it. Almost immediately a waitress appears by his side.
‘I’ll have a whisky.’ He makes his order without looking up.
‘Water,’ I murmur, although I could really do with a huge glass of wine. On the surface, I’m fairly sure that I’m managing to hold it together, but underneath it all, I’m a gibbering mess.
‘So,’ he sneers. ‘You’re seeing Dan.’
He snaps the menu shut and fixes his eyes on me, his face coughing up just about every bad-tempered expression it can muster. Well, I decide, if he really wants to be a first class arsehole, then he can put up with some first class apathy in return. I lean back in my chair. I’m going to wind this idiot up, good and proper.
‘I think so,’ I sigh.
‘There’s no think so about it.’ He scrunches up his nose. ‘He was in late this morning and so were you.’
‘Is that really any of your business?’
‘I’d say it is.’ He reaches up, touches the edge of the bruise and winces. ‘The gossip’s all over the building. You were seen holding hands in the lift.’
‘Is that illegal?’
‘He’s known you for less than a week and he’s already making a public display of it. Wouldn’t you say that’s a little quick?’
‘I’d say he’s a grown man and he can do what he likes.’
Running a thumb across his lips, he studies me closely.
‘He’s a grown man who’s in charge of a multi-million pound company, Maya. A grown man who cancelled an important meeting this morning to hang around with you.’
Before I know it, I’m leaning forwards, arming myself with a scowl of my own. In the light of this new revelation, any hint of apathy has just been tossed right out of the window. I’m ready to explode.
‘So that was you then?’ I seethe. ‘You were texting him this morning? Because he took a couple of hours off work?’
‘No. I was texting him this morning because he was with you.’
Now, that’s it. I’ve well and truly had enough of the twat friend. He’s clearly taken some sort of a dislike to me, for no good reason, and I’m just not having it. It’s high time for a rant.
‘So what?’ I glare across the table at the black eye and it glares right back at me. ‘What are you so worried about? Do you really think I’m going to distract him from his work? Is that it? He was late in this morning and now Fosters is going to go bankrupt? Or is it the fact that you can’t stand the idea of losing your best friend to a woman.’ Somewhere above the black eye, a section of skin seems to flinch. ‘Oh yes, that’s it. You’ve lost your partner in crime. No more working your way through the women of London like a dose of salts.’ He folds his arms and stares down at the table top. I’ve got him on the ropes now. It’s time to go in for the kill. ‘Or is it because you think I’m some sort of heartless gold-digger?’ I point an accusing finger at his nose, feeling fairly satisfied that I’ve just covered all the bases. ‘You think I’m after him for his money.’
I come to a sudden halt because suddenly, out of nowhere, Clive Watson’s mouth is smiling. Now, why is it doing that? I can’t work it out and this really isn’t on. Every single tactic I pull out of the bag is falling flat on its face. When the waitress gets back, there are no two ways about it, I’m going to order that massive glass of wine and slug it back in one go.
‘None of the above,’ he replies at last. Unfolding his arms, he leans back in his chair and glances out of the window, as if he’s searching for inspiration. At last, his expression seems to soften. Oh shit. Perhaps my first theory was right after all. He does want me for himself.
‘None of the above?’ I shift about in my seat. ‘So, what is it then?’
He shakes his head.
‘You’re not going to tell me?’ And maybe it’s better that he doesn’t, not if my theory is correct. He throws back his head and stares at the ceiling. ‘Well then,’ I grumble. ‘This is bloody pointless. If you’re not going to talk to me about it, perhaps you should talk to Dan.’
He shakes his head again.
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘We’ve fallen out.’
‘The black eye?’
‘He hit me. I hit him. He’s gone to Edinburgh with a split lip.’
‘But why? Why did you hit each other?’
‘Because we had a discussion that got a little heated.’
‘A discussion about me?’
He nods. ‘You should stay away from him. You don’t need to know the reasons.’
‘I’ll have to disagree with you on that one.’
‘Trust me, Maya.’
I laugh again.
‘Trust you? I’d never trust you.’
‘Well, you should.’ H
e levels his gaze at me. ‘I’ve tried my best to get him to back off but it hasn’t worked.’
My brain jolts with the realisation. Monday. That was the reason Dan stood me up. He’d listened to the evil friend and decided that I wasn’t good enough for him. But what made him change his mind back again?
‘What makes you think I’m so bad for him?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing? You warned him to back off for nothing?’
‘You’ve got it the wrong way round. I wasn’t trying to protect him.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘I was trying to protect you.’
Now, hang on a minute. Trying to protect me? This is making no sense at all. I know that my mind’s fried from a week of contact with the man, and I’m totally knackered from a night and a morning of incredible sex with him, and I’m all over the place at the minute. I can barely make sense of anything.
‘I don’t get it.’
He turns his glass in his hands, his brain obviously whirring inside his skull.
‘I’ll be blunt about this. I warned him to stay away from you because you’re not his usual type of target. Women who want nothing more than to be tied up and fucked and abused. Women who expect nothing more out of him than a quick fix. Women who conveniently disappear off the radar once he’s had his fill.’
‘How can you talk about him like this?’
‘I’m just being honest. That’s all. You need to question his motives.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he’s latched onto you for a reason.’
‘Which is?’
He shakes his head. He seems troubled now.
‘You’re a beautiful woman, that’s for sure. And you’re an artist which appeals to him. But there’s more to it.’
‘Which is?’
‘I can’t tell you that.’ He pauses for a moment, running his tongue across his bottom lip. ‘You’re a decent woman.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’
‘This isn’t a joking matter. You’re hardly innocent, but you’re no match for Daniel Foster.’
‘Why not?’
‘You know very little about his past.’
‘I know enough.’