“Ah.” Scarlet opened the window and waved her pass at the control panel. The boom-gate rose and she ventured into the snarl of traffic on Flinders Lane. There were roadworks further up causing a backlog of traffic. She was aware of Tony beside her and it wasn’t a good kind of awareness. It was the kind that had her insides in a knot and her muscles as tense as a juror about to deliver a guilty verdict. She had to force air slowly, slowly out. Slowly, slowly in. She relaxed the grip of her hands on the smooth leather of the steering wheel and allowed the soothing wash of her favourite classical music—violins, piano, double bass—to ease the wound-up crazy in her body.
“Where did you work before Forbes?”
It seemed he wanted to talk. She could do small talk, but she found it an effort and the thought of chatting for the hour-long trip ahead of them chafed like bare legs on hot leather seats. “I did articles at Forbes and never left.”
“Ah, that explains the office with a window.”
“I bring in more income than three associates put together.”
“Good to know.” He grinned and the sun flashed on his teeth.
Clever. Conniving. Wolf—in one hundred percent fine wool—just like his older brother. She’d walked right into it. He was a snake in the grass. A redback on a toilet seat. A crocodile in a swamp, its eyes breaking the water. He could not be trusted. She clamped her teeth and edged into the queue of traffic for the Westgate Bridge. She settled her designer sunglasses onto her nose and welcomed the relief from the glare.
“How often do you go out to views?”
“Not much, but I need to see how the worker came to fall through the skylight and what kind of safety equipment was provided for the roof work he was doing.”
“Why insurance litigation?”
“I could ask you the same.” She leaned forward and increased the volume, desperate for the peace that usually flooded her when she listened to Mozart. The traffic was heavy and the lights flicked from amber to red as they drew up to the Lorimer and Montague street intersection. She hated traffic. She hated waiting. She hated that he sat beside her, relaxed and cool in his seat. No rigidity in his muscles. No bulging tendons in his neck. No angry snapping anywhere in his body.
“Are you always like this in traffic?”
“Yes.” This had nothing to do with the man beside her—or his older brother—and everything to do with him wanting what was hers. Breathe. She moved through her body relaxing each part until she could feign ease. She focused on the vast blue stretch of the sky, pictured herself somewhere sunny, the relaxing sound of water spilling over rocks, no one for miles.
“Light’s green when you’re ready.”
His tone was provocative, but she refused to bite. “Thanks.” A horn hooted from somewhere behind them. She pressed her foot to the clutch and eased into first. She liked a manual. She liked the rev of the engine. The feel of the gearstick in her hand. She changed into second… third… and back into second as they approached the Westgate Bridge in a snarl of trucks, vans, and vehicles. The view was spectacular and if she could just focus on the world around her and not the pair of hard, muscular thighs not a hand’s distance away, she’d find it easier to breathe. The music wasn’t helping. The mindfulness strategies weren’t helping. The gutsy thrust of acceleration wasn’t helping.
“You seem kind of wound up.”
“No. No, I’m not.”
“Then why the tension?”
“I’m not very patient with traffic and I’m not a fan of your older brother. I’m frustrated that I have competition for a position that should be mine and given who you are, there’s little chance of a fair battle.”
“Competition stretches us and makes us stronger.”
“Is that what your dad taught you?”
“Pretty much.”
“Did he pit you and your brother against each other? A bit of healthy sibling rivalry?”
“You get further in life when you’re challenged.”
“Just how far are you aiming to get?”
“Senior Associate. Partner. Executive partner. Maybe start my own firm.”
“Timeframe?”
“Partner by thirty. The rest doesn’t matter so much.”
“How long until you’re thirty?”
“A year.”
Scarlet was good at maths, but she didn’t need to be to appreciate the clash in their career trajectories. He didn’t know what he was up against. “Why Forbes?”
“It’s a top-tier firm.”
“Why insurance litigation?”
“My brother is a commercial lawyer.”
“You don’t see yourself walking the same path?”
“I’m nothing like my brother.”
His tone was defensive and she sensed she’d touched a nerve. “There’s one senior associate position and one partnership position likely to come up in the next year.” Scarlet fought her way to the left lane in readiness for the turnoff to the ring road.
“May the best man—or woman—win.”
Smug. Slimy. Snake.
A truck forced its way in front of her and she touched the brakes. Probably a man. His driving was atrocious. His manners were worse. She flipped the disk to Vivaldi and took a deep, calming breath.
She turned off the M1, shifted into fifth gear and pressed the button to retract the roof. The rush of air helped to relieve the organ-crushing angst in her midriff.
“What do you like to do on the weekends?”
Scarlet felt his gaze on her and turned to glance at him. He’d put aviators on and with his hair blowing back from his face, he would have looked attractive if she hadn’t been so dead-set on finding him unattractive.
“Work. You?” Curses. She hadn’t meant to sound interested. She wasn’t interested. She turned her gaze back to the road and took a deep breath of the fresh, almost country air. The temperature was warm, not too hot, and it was impossible not to relax and enjoy the responsive surge of the V8 motor.
“I like to surf.”
Well, that explained the tan and the relaxed cheeriness that rubbed against her like sandpaper. He had a lackadaisical, beach-bum attitude to life that didn’t quite fit with the polished, corporate sheen of his suit. Or what she knew of his older brother.
“Why would a layback surfer dude want to become a hotshot lawyer?” She made no attempt to soften the mocking tone.
“The two are hardly mutually exclusive and you know enough about my family to appreciate the pressure. Besides, you manage to pull off the conservative, uptight workaholic in the office when you’re clearly a weekend lead-foot in a black convertible.”
“We all have our vices.”
“No one’s accusing you of being perfect.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you have a reputation that goes before you.”
“My reputation is none of your business beyond the fact you’ll find it difficult to live up to.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said with a grin.
Scarlet loved Vivaldi’s Four Seasons and there was no way he was going to mess with her joy. She had to take it where she could find it and with some effort, she was able to erase him from her peripheral vision and pretend she was alone. Except he insisted on speaking.
“I head down to Torquay most weekends. Early. You know what they say about all work and no play. Maybe that explains how you found yourself in that awkward position in the first place… no pun intended.”
Not listening.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those types who doesn’t like the feel of sand on your feet.”
Not listening.
“Or one of those girls who can’t bear to get their hair wet.”
Not listening.
“Or someone who’s wedded to their work because they have no life.”
“It’s nice of you to worry about me, but there’s no need. We’re work colleagues. The only thing you need to worry about is how well I do my job and that’s v
ery well. Have you had any run-ins with sharks while you’re out there battling the elements?”
“None of the fish variety.”
“Ha. Ha.” Her mind ventured onto the rocky path he’d hewn for her. Was she wedded to work because she didn’t have a life? Or did she not have a life because she was wedded to work? Or was he trying to mess with her focus? He wanted that senior associate position. He wanted it enough to manipulate and undermine her while wearing a goofy smile on his face. Speaking of sharks.
“Perhaps we should talk about the elephant in the convertible and get it out in the open.”
“There’s no elephant, Tony. Mistakes are learning opportunities. I’ve learned that men don’t always tell the truth about their marital status. I’ve learned that some men have an ego so big they don’t understand the meaning of the word no, and I’ve learned that some men think they’re above the law. Do you go home to a wife at night?”
“So glad you brought that up. I’m single in capital letters—in case, you’re interested—but I plan to stay that way until I make partner. I can’t afford the distraction of a serious relationship at the moment. You?”
“I don’t do distraction. My goal is partnership by 2019. That gives me a year. And no, I’m not interested.”
His grin widened. “What about family? Do you want children someday?”
She wanted to tell him to back off. She wanted to stop the car and tell him she’d meet him there. Call an Uber. Better still, she’d like to rewind time and schedule the view for yesterday, before she had to share her files and her V8 sanctuary with a Great White in Hugo Boss. She shrugged and left the question unanswered.
“I can’t wait to have kids. To set them loose on a beach. To teach them to surf. Weekend barbies with friends. A glass of wine with someone special on the deck of our beach house after the kids are tucked into bed, exhausted, with smiles on their faces.”
“Is that what your childhood was like?” She turned and saw the tick in his jaw.
“Not so much. My brother’s twenty years older than me and my father worked a lot. I used to go down to Lorne with a friend of mine. His parents had a house that looked over the ocean and they taught me to surf. I loved those family trips and they treated me like a son.”
Her heart softened for the boy he used to be and she had to remind herself of the man he was now. “I’m an only child.” No way would she share the loneliness of her childhood. They began the descent into the valley that was Bacchus Marsh. Here, the earth was rich and fertile and apple trees spread before them. Market gardens, turf farms. She toyed with the idea of a detour through the town on the way back for fresh fruit and gourmet chocolate from the roadside, farmer-direct shops.
“You must have extended family?”
“An older cousin, but he was like the big brother from hell. He was smart, manipulative and spoilt. I hated visiting them. I preferred to be alone. I liked to read. Besides, I had good friends and mum often invited one of them to go on holiday with us.”
“Why law?”
She could tell him the truth. Or not. “I loved crime shows on TV.” It was her standard line. It deflected from her less admirable determination to make perpetrators pay. She didn’t often think back to her eight-year-old self and that game of hide-and-seek with her cousin. Of how she’d hidden in a wardrobe in their spare room. Of how she’d heard him turn the key in the lock and left her paralysed in the dark, cramped, airless space. Of how she’d counted to a thousand, her eyes squeezed tight, before she’d peed her pants in panic. She hadn’t called for help. No way would she let him know how scared she was. Sweat beaded on her brow and she swiped it with the back of her hand. She welcomed the cool rush of the wind. The oxygen she gulped into her lungs. The wide, open space around her, which blotted the hot, choking memory.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, fine. You?”
“Terrific.”
He looked terrific and for half of a flash of a moment, she admired him. He was smart. Well-connected. Gorgeous—well, passably attractive. And she felt a connection. Sever it. Now. This was about weakening her. He didn’t care. He wanted to know what he was up against. Steel. She visualised it. Cold and impervious. They’d left the fertile ground of the valley behind and wound their way back into the dry, windswept hills. A house perched on a barren knoll, the driveway like a scar across the landscape.
“You don’t like to let people in, do you?”
“I’ve learned that most people are self-serving, particularly men.”
“That’s very cynical.”
“Perhaps.”
“Do you bat for the other team now? After your run in with Geoffrey.”
“Pardon?”
“Are you a same-sex girl now?”
“No!” She almost choked. “And even if I was, it’s none of your damn business.” He was like a blood-sucking leech. “If there’s something work related you need to know, ask. If not? Don’t. Speak.”
“You’re not an easy person to like.”
“I don’t care whether you like me or not. I don’t need you as a friend. I need you like a gunshot hole in the side of my head.”
Silence. Blessed silence. The paddocks flashed past and the trees grew big and wide and spread their limbs to the sky. Space. Lots of it. And silence. But try as she might, she couldn’t ignore him. It was like there were invisible strings stretched between them and every time he breathed or shifted in his seat, they pulled tight and she reacted, deep inside.
“You weren’t the first young receptionist to be dazzled by Geoffrey’s charms, and he no doubt plied you with plenty of alcohol. You were the first to sue him, expose him in the media and destroy his marriage.”
She said nothing, but her heart contracted. She’d been dewy fresh to the profession, working at a top tier firm during her gap year. Her hands clenched on the steering wheel. She’d bought her first V8 convertible with the pay-out. Unfair dismissal. She’d honed her legal teeth on that one and she’d been like a dog with a bone. Where other students had struggled to learn the dry tenements of law, she’d devoured them, arming herself with legal know-how to fight the battle against him.
“I’m guessing men give you a wide berth at the office Christmas party.” His tone was as dry as the grassy fields that spread before them. She had to admire his tenacity. Most people knew of the assault. It had been splashed through the papers after she broke the gag order when he reneged on his side of the negotiations. Geoffrey Radcliff had been twice her age and powerful enough in the industry to intimidate her. But, not many people had the balls to bring it up.
“He made it out to be consensual—maybe it was—but that requires a level of sobriety.” She’d flirted back. She’d enjoyed the attention. But, when he’d pushed her into the lift and stopped it between floors, her brain had fried. She couldn’t get out. She couldn’t scream. Who would have heard her? He’d kissed her, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth and he’d touched her intimately, rubbing himself against her, pressing her against the wall of the lift, his hands venturing beneath her clothing until—she’d found the strength to push back. She shuddered. She’d been pissed and stupid at nineteen, and she’d lost her job because of it.
“The legal process has a way of shaming the victim.”
“Yes...” But, the victim became strong and found her voice. The victim became gutsy like the V8 motor that purred beneath her hands and no way would she ever shrink in the dark or suffer in silence again. “But, the victim was victorious in the end.”
“Is that why you work so hard? Do you feel you have something to prove?”
“Why do you care, Radcliff? Can’t you sit back and enjoy the scenery?”
“Oh, I am, believe me.”
She turned and found his sizzling blue gaze on her. Her skin prickled like every nerve had been plucked and played and that part of her body, which had been safely anaesthetised for the past ten years, stirred and stretched. “I couldn’t be less interested.” Th
e words should have been powerful and decisive with no room for misinterpretation, but he chuckled and she found she liked it.
“I see you, Scarlet.” His tone was as soft as a feather and her flesh puckered and pulled.
“I see you too, Radcliff. And if you think I’ll fall for your scheming? You’re wrong.”
“You think I’m strategizing and plotting?”
“Some men use seduction like a weapon.”
“Some women are too sceptical for their own good. Or maybe they’ve become so afraid to relax their guard they’ve ended up isolated and alone, with files for company.”
“I have a V8 powered friend who asks for nothing.”
“Are we talking sex-toys here?”
“I don’t know, Radcliff. You’re the player. You tell me.”
“Life’s short, Scarlet. Don’t let my brother destroy your life. You didn’t ruin his. He did that all by himself.” The playful edge was gone from his tone and if she hadn’t had her attention on the road, she might have seen the serious light in his eyes. But she felt the shift in his muscle tension, hypersensitive as she’d become to every nuance in his posture, and when he reached out to touch her hand on the gear stick, she snatched it back, the engine roaring in protest. She near choked on the paralysis in her throat.
“I was just being friendly, but don’t worry I get it. You don’t like to be touched.”
“I don’t like to be taken advantage of. I don’t like to be used. I don’t like to be played.”
“Then let’s make a pact of honesty between us. As scathing as you like.”
“I don’t trust you. It’s that simple.”
“Trust is earned. I don’t expect you to trust me. You went through a terrible ordeal when you were young and impressionable, at the hands of my arrogant shit of a brother. When did you last have fun?”
“I’m too busy for fun.”
“Come down to Torquay with me. Sit on the beach. Go for a walk. Feed chips to the seagulls. Paddle in the shallows. Better still, let me teach you to surf.”
“Thanks for your concern, but no thanks.” The sign for the Myrniong turn-off appeared and she sighed with relief. “Hopefully, the engineer’s on time.”
Seduction in a Suit: An Office Romance Collection Page 114