by R L Burgess
Table of Contents
Synopsis
Other Books by RL Burgess
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Synopsis
A rising star in the corporate world of finance, Zoe Cavendish is nursing a secret flame for her boss. She knows it’s stupid and her friends keep telling her she should move on, but somehow she can’t quite extinguish the hope.
The last thing on Reyna Azoulay’s mind is love. Not only is she busy with her demanding role as CEO of a high-flying financial advisory firm, but she’s also just recently taken in her sister’s child.
When Zoe is selected to present alongside Reyna at a prestigious international conference, they are thrown together and reality comes knocking—as does the suave keynote speaker who seems determined to whisk Zoe away into the desert sunset.
Will Zoe and Reyna realize what’s right in front of them before it’s too late?
www.BellaBooks.com
When you shop at Bella, more of your dollars reach the women who write and produce the books you love. Thanks from all of the authors & staff at Bella!
Blog: Bella Media Channel
Facebook: BellaBooks
Twitter: @bellabooks
Instagram: TheBellaBooks
Other Bella Books by RL Burgess
Match Point
Acknowledgments
To my darlings Sam and George, thank you eternally for keeping the lights on while I followed these characters around.
Thank you to Ann for your insightful suggestions, guidance and teachings through the editing process. I will never look at an exclamation mark the same way.
Thank you to Bella Books for opening your doors to me, and so many others, who love to get lost in a fictional world that reflects our realities.
And to everyone who reads this story, thank you for doing so, it makes me and the characters very happy.
About the Author
RL Burgess is a musician, writer, lover, mother, best friend, dog owner, slave to two cats and decaf coffee drinker. She writes mostly when other people are sleeping, before six a.m. and after nine p.m., spending her days playing music and working with community groups. Rosie lives on the beach side of Melbourne, in Australia.
Copyright © 2019 by RL Burgess
Bella Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 10543
Tallahassee, FL 32302
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
First Bella Books Edition 2019
eBook released 2019
Editor: Ann Roberts
Cover Designer: Judith Fellows
ISBN: 978-1-64247-062-8
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Chapter One
Zoe (Monday a.m.)
“Ahem.”
“Ouch,” Zoe cursed, knocking her head on the desk as she shifted beneath it.
“May I ask what you’re doing under there?” came the voice of Mel, Zoe’s workmate and best friend of twenty years.
“I’m fixing…” Zoe grunted with effort, scrabbling with her fingers blindly around the back of the computer stack, “…my computer. What does it look like?”
“Hmm. It looks like you’re trying to hide under your desk,” Mel replied, a laugh in her voice.
“Well I’m not. My screen’s packed it in. And right when I was knee deep in the McFarlane audit, but I’m sure,” she paused to catch her breath as she tried to stretch further toward the back of the computer, “I can fix it if I can just change out this cable.”
“Well that does sound tricky. Have you considered calling IT?”
“Mel. As if!” Zoe shuffled herself out from under the desk and stood up, rolling the tension out of her shoulders. Her cheeks felt warm with effort and her brunette hair, normally so carefully attended to, had slipped out of its usual simple clip. It fell around her face in dishevelled waves. “I’d have more luck getting them to bring me a coffee than fixing my computer.”
“Harsh.”
“But true. What are you doing this far down the hallway, anyway?”
“I’m bringing up the business cards for your team. We designed them with the new logo so they look pretty schmick.”
Zoe took the box Mel was waving, glancing at the new design. Hers read, Zoe Cavendish, New Business Specialist, Azoulay House. A miniature of her own face stared at her from the corner of the card, hair pulled back in a ponytail, acorn-coloured eyes, her crisp white shirt blending in with the linen on the card.
She snorted. “Was the picture necessary?”
“Yeah, everyone has their face on nowadays. It adds a sense of authenticity and trust.”
“Right. Well, thanks.” Zoe tossed the box on her desk. “I’ve got to get this bloody computer sorted.”
“Seriously. Let me call IT. Desperate times,” Mel replied with a smirk, flashing her dimples. She was dressed straight out of the 80s today, sporting a woollen grey suit with oversized shoulder pads and matching high-waisted trousers. That was the benefit of working in the marketing department, Zoe thought, tucking in her own shirt, which had come adrift while she was under the desk. There was a certain creative licence allowed in that department.
Mel changed her hair colour every other month and no one seemed to mind. Lately she had been going for a Desperately Seeking Susan look, her hair a tangle of bleached blond and dark roots, a style that appeared haphazard but Zoe knew was carefully crafted. Not something Zoe could get away with as a New Business Specialist. She was expected to meet the corporate expectations of a high-flying financial adviser with snappy business suits and a well-manicured look. She actually enjoyed dressing the part, but every now and then she was a little jealous of the creative freedom Mel had with her wardrobe. Not that she wanted to come to work looking like Madonna, but the occasional day in her track pants wouldn’t be so bad.
“I am actually desperate. I’ve got to finalise this audit by lunchtime.” Zoe paused, chewing her bottom lip anxiously. Her eyes lit upon her laptop, tucked into its bag under her desk and she crowed triumphantly. “But not desperate enough to sit around waiting all day for some lecherous slimeball from IT to come and breathe their coffee breath all over me. I’ll just go and take this little guy to the tea room and work from there.”
“Good idea. And in the meantime, I’ll pop in an IT
help desk for you.”
“Don’t you dare,” Zoe warned, scooping up her laptop and and stalking out of her cubicle past Mel. She swiped a wayward lock of hair out of her face as she went, feeling like a bear on the warpath.
“Pop in to see you in the tea room if we need you today then, yes?” Mel asked sweetly, trotting after Zoe down the corridor.
“That’s where I’ll be,” Zoe said, her tone self-righteous. “And don’t be interrupting me with endless cups of coffee. I have much to do.” And with that she turned abruptly into the tea room, running straight into the CEO who was exiting the room with a brimming cup of hot tea.
“Oh god, Reyna, I’m sorry.” Zoe exclaimed, as tea slopped over the edge of the cup, spilling onto Zoe’s laptop and scalding the CEO’s hand. Reyna yelped in pain. “Quickly, run it under cold water,” Zoe instructed, grabbing the dripping cup and manoeuvring her boss to the sink. She flipped the tap open and blasted the cold water, holding Reyna’s hand firmly under the stream.
“Are you burned too?” Reyna asked.
“No, just you I think,” she replied, her eyes wide with concern. “God, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine, I believe I can manage from here. Thanks, Zoe,” Reyna said, gently extracting her hand from Zoe’s grasp. “It’s just a little scalded.”
“Shall I get the first aid kit?”
“Honestly, I’m fine.” Reyna shut off the tap and dried her hands on a tea towel. Zoe watched as she refilled her cup with boiling water from the urn and dipped in a fresh tea bag. Reyna’s dark features were unusually pensive.
“Big day?” Zoe asked, searching for something—anything—to say as her boss finished with the tea bag and elegantly tossed it into the bin.
“You could say that,” Reyna replied. “Perhaps we could all do with slowing down a bit today, no?” Her deep brown eyes met Zoe’s with a polite smile, and Zoe felt her stomach do its familiar flip-flop.
“Definitely.”
“Onward and upward then,” her boss said as she breezed out of the tea room. “Have a good day, Zoe. You too, Melanie,” she called over her shoulder. Mel, who was still lurking in the tea room doorway, grinned at Zoe.
“Smooth, Cavendish.”
“The smoothest,” Zoe replied, slumping into one of a group of white plastic chairs at a table. She propped her laptop up on the table and opened the lid to inspect the damage.
“She’ll probably ask you out tonight.”
“Probably. Perhaps I’ll just ask her. Save her the trouble. Pass me a tea towel, would you?”
Mel tossed it over and Zoe ran it across her laptop, mopping up the spilled tea. “Please still work, please still work,” she muttered and pressed the power button gingerly, waiting for the screen to light up. When nothing happened she closed her eyes briefly and let out a deep sigh.
“Shit.”
“Want me to call IT now?” Mel grinned impishly.
“You can if you want. But I have no need of their services today. I shall be finishing the McFarlane audit at your desk.”
“Come on, Zoe,” Mel cajoled. “They’re not that bad. Why don’t you just call?”
“I don’t see why I should have to deal with a pack of imbeciles who know less about technology than I do. Besides, that Barry guy is a total jerk. And he always smells like sardines.”
“Yeah, he’s not the greatest, but the girls down there are pretty cool.”
“You mean the women,” Zoe stressed the word. “But I never get them do I? It’s always Barry who comes huffing and puffing to my rescue. Anyway, I really don’t have time for this kind of mucking around today. Thomus will have my arse on the end of his boot if I don’t get this audit wound up by the end of today.”
“Thomus wouldn’t know his arse from the end of his boot,” Mel replied. “But fine, whatever. We can swap. You can hide at my desk and I’ll wait for IT for you. Feels like high school all over again. You run away and I’ll get in trouble with the teacher.”
“It was not like that,” Zoe protested. “You left me in the hot spot heaps of times.”
“Fine, well today I’ve got your back. I’ll tell I.T. you’re allergic to sardines and they can’t send Barry. Maybe I’ll get Rashmi. She’s totally cute.”
“You really shouldn’t objectify your colleagues,” Zoe replied primly, gathering up her laptop and following Mel out of the tea room. “But thank you.”
Mel’s desk was a sea of clutter. Towering stacks of paper threatened to topple at any moment. Books, coffee mugs, trinkets, posters, photos, and inspirational design ideas filled every available space on the desk and its surrounding walls, making it hard to see the two-toned, blue colour scheme of the cubicle. She had to concentrate now if she was going to finish this audit by lunchtime. The client was adamant on the timeline, but then, weren’t they all? Her job was characterised by tight deadlines, complex arrangements, and sensitive clients. Honestly, it was never dull, no matter what her friends thought.
As she waited for her settings to load, she ran her finger over a photo Mel had taped to one of the cubicle walls. It was from one of those black and white photo booths, a strip of four small photos. Five of them crammed into the tiny booth, laughing and falling on top of each other, pulling faces and grinning from ear to ear. Next to her in the photo was Enid with her perfectly manicured, long, golden hair and Chiara with her warm, puppy dog eyes. Then Mel pulling a ridiculous face and Travis with his trademark goofy grin, resting his lanky great arms around them all. They were younger, fresher versions of themselves now. The photo had been taken just after their university graduation—how long ago was that? She mentally counted forward from her twenty-third birthday and realised this November would be the tenth anniversary of that photo. She was lucky to have such a solid group of friends.
But Mel was her rock. She had scraped Zoe off the floor after her first big breakup and helped her find her own apartment. They had pounded the pavements together after uni looking for work. She had been there when Zoe’s mother had died unexpectedly a year and a half ago, always ready to lend an ear, a hand, or a shoulder—anything, anywhere. In fact it had been Mel, working in the marketing department of Azoulay House, who had shown Zoe the job advertisement for the position she currently held.
Zoe searched for the file she had been working on, scanning through the list of auto-saved documents, relieved to find it was there and intact, just where she had left off when her screen had fizzed out. When this was done she would organise a digital presentation for McFarlane’s management team, with the outcomes of her audit and a little extra for them, some handy tips on how to restructure their tax burden to enhance cash flow for the business. She knew they would be impressed with her work. That was one of her career mottos and she worked hard to nail it on every brief: never miss an opportunity to impress.
Zoe flashed back to Reyna’s dark, almond-shaped eyes as she asked Reyna to let go of her hand in the tea room. She flushed with embarrassment at the memory. Definitely not her most impressive moment. But then, Reyna Azoulay was hard to impress. She would stop to chat for a moment or two if Zoe bumped into her in the tea room, but she never really divulged anything about herself.
And yet nothing escaped her attention. She had sent flowers to Zoe’s home when her mother had passed away. At the time, Zoe had only been with the company six months. Now that she thought about it, most likely Reyna’s PA had purchased those flowers. Still, it represented the ethos of the company under Reyna’s leadership.
Zoe was also a fan of Reyna’s dry humour and quick intellect, often evident at staff meetings. Not to mention the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous. Her strong dark Middle Eastern features reminded Zoe of a more delicate Frida Kahlo, shining black hair lightly curling over her shoulders, flawlessly smooth, tan skin and a body that curved and stretched in all the right places. She had heard that Reyna was fluent in both Arabic and Hebrew, a fact that was supported by their strongly diverse client base.
Yes, Reyna was
in a league of her own, and Zoe had been the head cheerleader for Team Reyna since she had started with the firm two years earlier. In fact, if it weren’t for the issue of Thomus, Zoe would have said Reyna could literally do no wrong. For some reason Reyna continued to support him, even when it seemed to Zoe the whole world must see his incompetence, but somehow it seemed to have escaped Reyna’s notice. Oh well, you couldn’t be perfect on every level, she thought, dreamily chewing on the end of her pen, but Reyna was as darn near close as could be.
“I’ve called IT for you,” Mel said, sticking her head into the cubicle. “But you stay there. I’ll work at your desk when they’re done. Better to finish your train of thought.”
Zoe swivelled around to face her. “Thanks,” she said, her gaze still far away.
“No problem,” Mel replied. “Er, why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’ve turned into some kind of liquid chocolate and you want to be eaten up.”
Zoe coloured, snapping out of her Reyna daydream. “I’m not. I was just thinking… Anyway, thanks for letting me use your computer.”
“It’s fine,” Mel said slowly, drawing out the words suspiciously. “Take your time. Have it for the rest of the day. I’ll just be over at your desk.” She backed out of the cubicle.
“Thanks Mel. You’re a good friend.”
“Yes, yes. Get over it. I’m going to sign you up for an online dating account if you don’t snap out of it.”
Zoe sat up straight and glared at her friend. “You will not.”
“That’s better. I don’t know what you were thinking about but that was weird. Don’t do that again, okay?”
Zoe laughed, feeling guilty. “Fine, whatever. Let me get on with this now.”
“Good idea,” Mel said, retreating from her cubicle. “I’m gone,” she called. “I don’t know why you’re even still trying to talk to me. Get on with it already.”