The Truce

by Becca Steele

  A-hole: Good question. Not sure TBH.

  Me: One point for honesty, minus one hundred for your personality. Bye.

  I turned my phone off and refused to let Luke Davenport cross my mind again.

  4

  Olivia

  Following the crowd of office workers, I entered the large steel-and-glass skyscraper which housed Barrett London on the eighteenth floor, hearing the gentle whoosh of the sliding doors opening and closing behind me as I raced across the wide foyer. I nodded to the burly security guard and scanned my pass at the turnstiles to get to the lift area. It was only five minutes later than my usual arrival time, but I knew I’d timed it badly as soon as I squeezed into the lift.

  The crush of bodies made it almost impossible to move, and I stumbled backwards, tripping over someone’s foot. My back crashed into a hard torso and I heard an “oof” and flinched.

  “Why do you have to be so fucking clumsy, Payne?” the low, angry voice hissed in my ear.

  Just my luck. Of all the people to stumble into, it had to be Luke Davenport.

  “I’m sorry. I tripped,” I hissed back.

  “You will be,” he muttered. “Your hair is in my face. You need to move.”

  “Where do you expect me to go?” I bit out, trying to keep my voice down. “The lift is full.”

  I huffed in frustration and crossed my arms, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. It would have been easier to pretend, if I couldn’t feel the heat his body was radiating, the (admittedly delicious) spicy scent of his aftershave permeating my nostrils.

  “Did you bathe in that aftershave this morning, or something?” The words spilled out of me before I could stop them.

  Luke leaned down, his mouth close to my ear. “Been thinking about me bathing, have you?”

  “What? No!” I screeched, far too loudly for being in such an enclosed space. Heads turned, and my cheeks grew hot at the unwanted attention. Luke’s dark chuckle only served to infuriate me more, and I clenched my jaw, willing the lift to move faster.

  After an interminable wait, we finally reached the fifteenth floor, where the lift emptied enough to create some breathing room. I breathed a sigh of relief and moved to the opposite side of the lift, as far away from Luke as I could manage, stealing a glance in his direction. He stood, body encased in a tailored navy suit, with his arms crossed over his chest, his posture radiating hostility.

  I sighed in frustration and slumped back against the wall.

  Shaking my head to remove all thoughts of Luke Davenport, I headed into the large open-plan space that made up the main working area of Barrett London and slid into my comfy office chair. My desk was part of a bank of four, occupying a large space under the huge windows that looked over the London skyline. Luke’s desk was positioned on a separate bank of four, thank goodness, although not far enough from mine for either of our liking. If I looked around my computer screen, I occasionally caught him staring at me. I have to say, I did love my giant monitor. Anything to hide me from him.

  A moment later, Eddie, digital marketing apprentice and good friend, poked his head around the door.

  “One caramel latte,” he announced, handing me a steaming mug of coffee. I smiled, grateful to see my friend’s face.

  “You’re the best. Thanks, Ed.”

  He leaned his tall, lanky frame against my desk, arms folded. “You’re welcome.” His blue eyes twinkled at me as he continued chatting. “What did you get up to at the weekend?”

  This was our usual Monday routine—I’d arrive at work, Eddie would bring me coffee as soon as he arrived (not that I’d ever asked him to, he was just nice like that), and we’d spend the next ten or fifteen minutes gossiping about our respective weekends while I booted up my computer and started going through my emails.

  “I helped out at the youth centre on Saturday. Then yesterday, I had a date, remember?”

  “Oh, yes! Alex. I take it from your face that there won’t be a second date?”

  “No. Neither of us felt a spark. Anyway, I’m sure he’s moved on to the next woman by now.” I shrugged, unconcerned. “We had a good time, even so, and the bar was gorgeous. We should go there for drinks with Avery sometime.”

  “You know me, babes, I’m always up for drinks. I miss Avery. I hardly see her anymore, since she stopped working here.”

  He glanced up, narrowing his eyes and lowering his voice. “By the way, not to change the subject, but he-who-shall-not-be-named is giving you the evil eye again.”

  He-who-shall-not-be-named was Eddie’s nickname for Luke Davenport. He’d witnessed enough of our altercations to know that it was hopeless trying to persuade us to get along. Unlike me, Eddie found our conflict highly amusing.

  “Ugh. I have no idea what his problem is. I expect he’s pissed off that I knocked into him in the lift, which was a total accident.” I rolled my eyes. “Can we please not talk about Davenport anymore? Tell me about your weekend.”

  “Oh, you’re going to love this.”

  Sipping my coffee, I settled down to listen to Eddie’s account of the previous day. His boyfriend, George, had booked an escape room experience for the two of them, and it had turned out to be very different to the image painted on the company website.

  “Oh, Liv, I should have known something was wrong when George told me how much he’d paid. He kept telling me it was a bargain offer. It was a dodgy basement under some shop, looked like something straight out of a horror film, and the guy running it was giving off total serial killer vibes.”

  He shuddered dramatically. “Suffice to say, we won’t be going back there in a hurry.”

  “What have I told you about booking these cheap deals?” I chuckled, shaking my head.

  Our conversation was interrupted by my computer chiming with a reminder. “Is that the time? We’re going to be late.” Swallowing my last mouthful of coffee, I hurriedly pushed away from my desk and rushed towards the conference room, Eddie hot on my heels.

  Every Monday morning Ethan called a meeting to go through everyone’s workloads for the upcoming week, and to keep us all up to date on the happenings at Barrett London. Somehow, Eddie and I had been so engrossed in our conversation that we’d managed to overlook the time.

  We entered the conference room, and Eddie slipped past me to take a seat halfway up the huge conference table. The only remaining seat was near the head of the table, directly opposite Luke Davenport.

  Groaning under my breath, I steeled myself. I didn’t have to wait long.

  “Late once again, Payne. What a surprise,” Luke murmured, disdain dripping from every word.

  I glanced up to see Ethan giving me a warning look, and I bit my lip, swallowing my angry retort. I hated that I was so affected by Luke. Even worse, I reverted to ridiculous playground behaviour in his presence.

  Ethan began his spiel, and I tried to concentrate. My phone buzzed in my lap, and I surreptitiously opened it.

  A-hole: Spilled coffee on yourself, did you?

  What? I looked over myself but couldn’t see anything. Opposite me, Luke sniggered. Bastard.

  Me: You’re so funny, you should be a comedian.

  A-hole: I try.

  Me: Leave me alone & act professionally.

  A-hole: As professional as you right?

  I held down the power button on my phone until it turned off, then looked up, waiting until I had Luke’s attention. I knew it wouldn’t take long—he took every opportunity he could to send his icy glares my way.

  As soon as our eyes collided, I mouthed, “Fuck. Off.”

  His gaze went straight to my lips, and his eyes darkened, glittering dangerously.

  I completely lost my train of thought.

  We stared at each other wordlessly.

  I was helpless to look away, trapped in his sights.

  The spell was broken by Ethan clearing his throat, giving us both a pointed look. Returning my attention to the meeting with a sigh, I decided to pretend Luke wasn’t there. Someho
w, with a Herculean effort, I managed to block him out and give my full attention to the discussion.

  After work I caught the Tube to London Bridge station and made the ten-minute walk to Horizons Youth Centre. Pushing open the heavy double doors, I headed down the corridor and into the side room where the art supplies were already laid out. The youth centre was part of a larger community centre, with a huge sports hall, games room, café (that was open during the day), and several smaller rooms that could be used for various activities. I’d been volunteering there every couple of weeks or so for the past six months, mostly running art projects. Art was a passion of mine. It wasn’t necessarily something I was particularly good at, but I loved spending time with the kids and seeing what they came up with.

  “Evening.” Nick, the youth centre director, greeted me. “I come bearing hot chocolate.” He placed the cup down next to the art supplies, and I gave him a grateful smile.

  “Thanks, Nick. How many do we have booked in for this evening?”

  He shuffled through the papers in his hand. “Let me see…eight. Six girls and two boys.” Smiling, he turned to leave, shuffling out of the room. In his mid-sixties, Nick had been running the youth centre for over twenty-five years. He was a well-loved figure in the local community, and his outreach efforts had made a difference in the lives of so many people.

  I called a goodbye after him and started sorting the art supplies into eight piles. Within half an hour the small room was full, and I handed out paper and charcoal to everyone.

  “Thank you all for coming.” I looked around the room, making sure I met everyone’s eyes. I knew most of the teens from previous classes, and they smiled back at me. “I thought today we could have a go at charcoal sketches. Nothing too strenuous.” I stepped into the middle of the room, gesturing at the table I’d set up. “As you can see, we have three items here. An apple, a pine cone, and a glass of water. I want you to choose one item—or more than one, if you like, and sketch it. Feel free to create your own interpretation. Note the lines, the curves, and the way the shadows fall.” I moved to my own table and sat down. “As usual, I’ll do the same, and you can see my efforts afterwards.”

  I picked up a stick of charcoal and began to draw. The room was silent other than the sound of charcoal scratching against paper, and I found myself relaxing as I sketched. Before I knew it, thirty minutes had passed.

  “Okay, how did everyone get on?” I stood and walked to everyone’s tables, examining their work and praising their efforts. When I reached the final table, Daria, the fourteen-year-old redhead who was a regular at the centre, looked up at me.

  “Olivia? Can I ask you something?” Her voice was soft, hesitant.

  “What is it?” I crouched down next to her table.

  “Well…some of us were wondering if we could draw a real person sometime. Maybe a boy?” She blushed.

  “A man! And he needs to be good-looking,” sixteen-year old Aisha shouted from across the room, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder.

  “Oh, really?” I contemplated her question, trying not to laugh as the girls all erupted into excited chatter, while the two boys pulled faces and rolled their eyes at each other. Maybe I could see if Alex would mind. Thinking about it, he’d probably love it since he’d be the centre of attention. “I’ll see what I can do. I’m not making any promises, but I’ll try to sort something out for you all.” Grinning, I headed back to my own table and proceeded to show everyone my drawing. As usual, there was some good-natured teasing—mostly from the boys. My skills lay more in guiding the teens than in drawing, that much was clear from my efforts.

  As the teenagers filed out of the room, I gathered up the supplies, placing them in a neat pile on the table ready for the caretaker to put away in the supply room. Taking one last glance around the room to ensure I hadn’t missed anything, I turned off the lights and headed to the bus stop to make my way home.

  5

  Luke

  Click. Click. Click.

  “Will you stop clicking your bloody pen?” I hissed to Payne. She was standing, pen in hand, at the water cooler, which was inconveniently positioned right next to my desk.

  She turned to face me, widening her big blue eyes innocently. “Oh, I’m sorry, is it bothering you?” she asked in a sickly-sweet tone. I opened my mouth to make a disparaging remark but was interrupted by my desk phone ringing.

  “Yes?” I answered curtly.

  “Luke, I mean, Mr. Davenport, I have a Mr. Wilson here to see you.” Ashley, our receptionist, trilled.

  My voice warmed. “Thanks, Ash. Could you show him into the meeting room and get him a coffee, please? I won’t be a minute.” I ended the call and stood, gathering my laptop and the files I needed for my meeting.

  “Why can’t you talk to me that politely?” came a quiet voice behind me. Damn. I’d forgotten Payne was there.

  “Because you don’t make me feel very polite, Payne,” I snapped.

  “Why?” She stared at me with—no, that couldn’t be actual hurt in her eyes. This was Payne. She gave zero fucks what I thought of her, and she gave back just as good as she got.

  “Not now, Payne, I have a meeting.” I brushed past her, ignoring her sharp intake of breath as she jumped out of my way.

  Two hours later I shook Mr. Wilson’s hand and showed him out of the office. He was one of our newest clients, the head of a firm of solicitors that needed a complete overhaul of their website and a strong social media presence. He’d seemed impressed with the progress we’d made and had only requested a few minor changes to the structure of the new website. I grinned as I walked back to my desk. I loved this part of my job—meeting with the clients, showing them the ideas we’d come up with for them, seeing the reaction on their faces.

  The grin was abruptly wiped off my face as I reached my desk and wiggled my mouse to wake up my computer. I’d forgotten to lock it, and instead of my usual desktop background, there was a fucking Hello Kitty waving at me. To add insult to injury, all the text on my screen was giant-sized, and my menu colour scheme had been changed to pink. Payne. I clenched my fists and opened up my office messenger app, wincing at the cerise background. Stabbing at my keyboard, I wrote “LEAVE MY SHIT ALONE, PAYNE” in block capitals.

  A moment later the little “message read” notification popped up under my words, and I sat back in my office chair, waiting.

  YOU SHOULDN’T LEAVE YOUR COMPUTER UNLOCKED. MAYBE IT’LL TEACH YOU A LESSON.

  I growled in frustration. I needed to have a word with Payne. Pushing down on my desk, I rose from my chair, leaving it spinning behind me. Stalking towards her desk, I noticed the exact moment she registered my presence. Her eyes widened, and she let out a little squeak of fright.

  “Eddie, help me,” she begged.

  “Sorry, babes, I’m staying out of this.” He laughed, delight evident on his face. He lived for the drama, as long as it involved other people.

  “Bastard,” she muttered.

  I came to a stop right next to Payne’s chair and in one swift motion, lifted my foot and pressed it down on her chair lever.

  Her chair sank to the floor instantly, and I smirked at her shocked face.

  “How’s the view down there?” I asked sardonically.

  “See for yourself.” She giggled and shot her foot out, sweeping my leg from under me. My other foot was still pressed on the chair lever, and I found myself falling flat on my back, smacking my head into the desk.

  “Shit, Luke, are you okay?” Payne asked between giggles. “Let me take a look at it.”

  She reached forward.

  “No! Stay away from me, woman—you’re lethal.” I groaned, scrambling away from her and holding the back of my head.

  “Eddie! Get Luke some ice,” Payne commanded. “Ed? Please?”

  I looked up to see him doubled over in fits of silent laughter, helpless tears streaming down his face. He shook his head, unable to speak through his mirth.

  Payne roll
ed her eyes and peeled herself off her chair, hurrying off to the kitchen.

  “You okay, mate?” Jamie, resident IT guru, asked, peering over Payne’s computer screen, amusement evident in his tone.

  “I’m fucking great,” I grunted.

  “Uh…by the way, Luke, it was me that did the stuff to your computer,” he admitted, his expression sheepish.

  “Roped you in to do her dirty work, did she?” I rolled my eyes. It didn’t surprise me in the slightest.

  Payne hurried back with an ice-filled tea towel gripped in her hands.

  “I’ll take that.” I swiped it from her before she could try to touch me with it and cause even more damage.

  “You’re welcome,” she muttered, clearly fishing for a thank you, which she wasn’t going to get from me. Ever.

  I stalked back to my desk and spent the rest of the day with a banging headache.

  Taking deep lungfuls of air, I strode along the street, allowing the day’s stress to bleed out of me. Hurrying through the throngs of people, I turned down a familiar side road and the street noises faded away into the distance.

  “Hi, Luke,” the young receptionist greeted me as I entered the foyer of the retirement complex.

  “Hey, Molly.” I grinned.

  She blushed, batting her eyelashes and twirling a strand of red hair around her fingers. “Martha’s in the garden.”

  Thanking her, I strode down the corridor and out through the sliding doors that led to the garden area. Surrounded on three sides by the main retirement building and two apartment blocks, the large grassy area was interspersed with trees and shrubbery, with wide, smooth paths that made it easy to manoeuvre wheelchairs around. I cast my eye around the quiet area, spotting Martha’s silvery head over by the water feature. This was her favourite spot—under a large shady tree, with the soothing sound of the water bubbling and birds singing.