Crazy, Undercover, Love (16 page)

‘You’re a robot then, or a saint, if you can switch off your emotions that way. It must be lovely to compartmentalise so easily,’ I say sweetly, pissed off at him but not sure why. ‘Tell me,’ I goad, forgetting where we are, forgetting I should be trying to get back in his good books, ‘does your halo ever slip?’

A nerve pulses in his jaw, ‘You know it does.’

‘I do?’

‘You were there last night when it did.’

‘Oh?’

‘In your bedroom. Against the wall.’ His voice goes that rock star husky again.

I squeeze my thighs together. ‘So I was,’ my voice climbs, ‘but are you referring to before, during or after?’

‘You’re still annoyed.' His fingers wrap round mine, stroking them, drawing me in. ‘Whatever you say about forgetting it, we have to talk. In private.’

Why is he touching me like this in public? He’s just making it harder. My chair scrapes along the marble floor as I reclaim my hands and push away from the table. I can’t give into this. ‘Far as I’m concerned there’s nothing to discuss. So if it's about your privacy again, what I said stands,’ I whisper. ‘I don’t intend to tell anyone, ever.’

‘Charley.’ Alex springs from his chair and sways, going pale green.

‘I’ll see you in the meeting room later. I need to go and clear my head.’ I catch sight of an open-mouthed employee sat at the table next to us, shamelessly eavesdropping. ‘And as for your privacy, guess that was an epic fail, huh?’

Alex follows my eye line and glares at the man, who immediately finds something riveting to study on the opposite side of the room. It would be comical if I wasn’t so desperate to get away.

My luck is out. Recovering, Alex skirts the table and wraps a hand round my elbow, towing me over to the window, our backs to the audience. ‘See what I mean?’ he says roughly. ‘I have no privacy. And everything seems to make my life more complicated.’

‘Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? To empathise with a billionaire with properties around the world, no worries about job security or money, no commitments tying you down?’

‘No commitments?’ Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alex blinks. ‘What do you know? What would you call running a high-profile company? It’s constant, twenty-four seven. There’s always someone or something calling on my time, somewhere I have to go, some place I have to be. Added to which I have a—’ He stops, the sentence hanging in the air between us.

‘What?’ I’m intrigued, my temper slinking away. This is the real man, the honest one behind the corporate image. We all wear masks. Some people just wear them better than others.

‘Nothing. It’s nothing you need to know about.’ Yanking his mobile from his jacket pocket as it makes a beeping sound, he reads a text. Swears. Curls his fingers around the gadget like he’d crush it. Rubbing his neck, he stares broodingly out the window.

It makes me feel bad for him. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve made assumptions about your life,’ I offer, ‘but it’s only because I don’t really know about it.’

‘Why would you?’ He turns his attention back to the phone to re-read the screen and mutters absently under his breath, ‘You’re only a temporary employee.’

Ouch. I suck in a sharp breath, his comment unexpectedly painful.

‘Of course I am,’ I reply in a carefully modulated tone. The Queen would be so proud. ‘Well, I have an important call to make,’ I fib easily. But then I’m used to lying. To Alex, to myself. ‘I’ll see you at the next meeting.’

‘Hmmm?’ He barely knows I’m here while he taps out a text.

‘That is so rude,’ I mumble under my breath. Talking louder: ‘See you in a bit.’

‘Yes. Fine.’

I leave him by the window, dark head bent over his phone. It makes him look lonely and I wonder how many genuine emotional connections he has in his life, ones that aren’t business related.

It doesn’t matter. I can’t be part of his world. So I don’t know why his comment about me being a temporary employee hurts, like I’ve lost a treasure that was almost within reach.

No. I’m being an idiot. A romantic fool.

Once I’m back in the suite I lock the interconnecting door to the lounge and lie on my bed with an icy cold flannel over my face, hoping the shock will bring sensible Charlotte back. Hoping the plan can still be salvaged.

There’s a knock on the door a few minutes later. Bolting up, I fling the flannel into the bathroom and go to the door.

‘Charley, I know you’re in there. Come out please, we need to talk.’

‘Can we do it later please?’ I put a hand against the grain of the wood.

‘I’m sorry I was rude earlier, burying my nose in the phone,’ he says softly, and my face burns. He heard my mumbled comment. ‘But I expect you in the lounge in two minutes,’ he insists, voice hardening.

The way he speaks makes me think if I don’t come out he’ll come in, forcibly if necessary.

‘Fine.’ Wrenching the door open, I charge smack into Alex’s broad chest. We untangle ourselves in a flurry of arms and muttered apologies.

‘Sit down,’ he orders.

I stand, arms crossed.

Rolling his eyes. ‘Oh. Right. You don’t like orders.
Please
?’

‘Do we have time for this?’ I perch on the edge of the sofa cushion.

He checks his watch. ‘Twenty minutes. I don’t think our conversation about last night can wait until later.’

‘Go on then.’

Studying my blank face, he heaves a short sigh. ‘Firstly, I’m sorry if I upset you. You know I’ve got stuff going on but I should have paid more attention to what I was saying. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.’ He rubs his face.

‘Thank you,’ I reply, somewhat mollified. ‘But does being a temporary employee mean I’m a second class citizen or what?’

In the act of taking off his suit jacket and throwing it on a chair, he freezes, eyes zeroing in on me. ‘Don’t be silly.’ A disbelieving smile kinks the corner of his mouth, ‘Why would you say that?’

I shrug, feeling oddly caught out, ‘I don’t know,’ my gaze skitters away, ‘it was the way you said it. Only a temp.' Am I making a big deal out of nothing? He was just stating a fact. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

Unfreezing, Alex prowls over and sits on the other sofa, at right angles to me. ‘It does matter, you saying it makes it matter. Tell me. Charley?’ He scoots forward until he can peer into my face. ‘You know I care a great deal about my privacy. But it’s not that. I don’t think it’s appropriate to offload my personal problems onto my staff, even agency ones. It would be unfair. They need to see me confident, not confused. Otherwise what would … ’ His white teeth click together.

‘What?’ I lean forward despite myself.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he repeats, shifting back on the sofa.

‘It does matter, you saying it makes it matter,’ I echo his comment.

He exhales, eyes twinkling. ‘Very good, you got me.’

‘So?’ Crossing my legs, I think about taking my shoes off but mustn’t get too comfortable. ‘Tell me. They need to see you confident, not confused, otherwise what would what?’ Prodding, ‘What would people think, what would they do? Have you ever wondered if you worry too much about what people think? Image isn’t everything.’ Remembering his hasty exit last night, ‘Or is that it? Why you left like that, what the request to not tell anybody was about? You’re worried about people knowing you got hot and heavy with a lowly staff member?’

‘Yes!’ Alex admits.

Stunned, I fall silent, mouth open.

‘But not like that,’ he explains. ‘It’s nothing to do with you being junior. I don’t think of any staff as lowly. I respect them, I’m glad of the hours and effort they put in, their passion and energy. Wow, I must really be off my game if you think—’

‘I don’t. Not really,’ I confess. Though he can be arrogant, I can’t pretend he’s some high-handed bastard, even if it would make it easier not to like him.

Nodding to accept my admission he goes on, ‘It’s about me flouting the “no workplace relationship” policy, Charley. It wouldn’t do my credibility much good, would it? I had my work cut out when I introduced the clause into the contracts a few years ago. In fact it got quite divisive. So if it was publicised I wasn’t sticking to it, there would be one hell of a backlash.’

‘If it’s been that troublesome, why have the clause?’

‘As I said yesterday, I think it offers the best level of protection for people.’

Except it didn’t protect me from Tony, I think bitterly, rage bubbling up as I think of what he did.

‘You’ve gone pale.’ Alex looks concerned. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes. I probably should have eaten properly, like you said. Please don’t say I told you so,’ I add.

He smiles crookedly, eyes crinkling, and my hormones sizzle. ‘I won’t.’ He goes to the bar and returns with a sealed packet. ‘Ginger biscuits. It’s not much but it might help.’

‘Thanks.’ I'm touched, more than I should be. I take the packet with care to avoid making physical contact with him.

There’s a silence between us as I nibble on a biscuit. ‘Maybe you could retrain as an air steward,’ I muse after a moment, forgetting myself.

‘Pardon? Why would I need to?’

Pointing at him with the edge of a biscuit, ‘You might enjoy doing something else. You don’t seem happy being CEO.’

He rockets off the sofa and marches to the window, shoving unsteady hands into his pockets, staring outside. ‘You’re wrong. It’s something else bothering me.’

‘Maybe, but I don’t think I am wrong.’ Rising from the sofa, I slope over to him, afraid he might bolt. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But I did. And sometimes it’s better to face things head-on. You don’t like what you do, don’t enjoy running the company.’

‘I told you, I won’t confide in employees.’ The angle of his head changes, arms going angular and stiff.

‘You already did last night. About me running away to the city. S
ome of us don’t have the luxury to do what we want
. And downstairs,
it’s constant, twenty-four seven
.’ I want to stroke the back of his neck, offer him comfort. I can’t. ‘And I won’t be an employee after this weekend.’ What the hell am I saying? Am I nuts?

‘But what if I offer you an ongoing assignment?’ he challenges. ‘What if I’m so impressed I tell the agency you should stay on somewhere? Are you going to give that up just in case something
might
happen between us, when I’ve already told you I can’t get involved?’

Rather than my mouth watering at his gorgeousness, this time it’s at the prospect of continuing work. I could stay in the city, with Jess. Get my old life back.

He must see the greed in my eyes. ‘See? You’d want it. And I can’t get involved, especially with someone I work with. It just messes everything up. I won’t perpetuate one mistake with another.’

‘Oh. I’m a mistake.’ A mess to be cleaned away. Like I was for Tony. ‘I get it.’

‘You don’t.’ Spinning around he glowers at me. ‘You don’t understand anything.’ His voice breaks. ‘Why would you? We lead completely different lives.’

Frustration bursts to life hot and fast. ‘So help me understand.’

‘You don’t know the consequences—’

‘Of what? What do you think I’m going to do? Are we back to privacy again, is this where you whip out the gagging order?’ I shake my head, ‘You hide behind your clause and your professional reputation as an excuse. But I think it’s about sharing part of yourself with someone else. You don’t like people getting too close.’

‘You’re wrong.’

‘Am I?’

‘It’s not a fear of intimacy.’ He flashes back. ‘I’m not some commitment-shy teenager. Give me more credit than that.’

‘For God’s sake, what is it then?’

‘I just don’t want to let anyone down!’

‘Why would you? How could you possibly let anyone down by trying to have a normal life?’

‘Because then that’s all I might want!’

His anguish shuts us both up.

After a moment he admits. ‘You’re right, okay? I hate my job, I’m not happy. Being good at something doesn’t mean you love it.’ He looks pained, and then as if ripped from him: ‘I do it because I have to. It’s my responsibility. But there are so many things I miss out on. I don’t have any hobbies, I do nothing for fun. The closest I get is running on the treadmill and lifting weights whilst listening to business reports on my earphones. I feel completely out of touch with the real world, I’ve got no idea what programmes are popular and I can’t remember the last time I read a book.’ He stops, looking horrified. ‘This is bullshit. I’ve got nothing to complain about. A lot of people would kill to be in my position. Listen to me,’ he mocks, ‘the ungrateful rich guy who wants to escape his money-padded cell.’

Even if I didn’t feel the wild magnetism to him, he’s a person in torment. ‘You feel guilty because you don’t want it,’ I attempt to console him with words, ‘but that’s okay. Everyone should be able to choose their own lives. It’s normal to feel hemmed in if that’s not the case.’

‘Maybe.’

'Freedom is one of the most important rights a person has, Alex, you only get one chance at this funny old world. The question is whether you can do something to change your situation.’

‘Could you walk away from everything you are? Could you let your family down, abandon your responsibilities?’

‘I feel like I already did. I didn’t fit into my parents’ plan for me when I came to London. I’ve always felt like a disappointment for being career-minded and doing my own thing.’ Traipsing to the sofa, I sit down.

Alex follows, standing above me, hands on lean hips. I make sure I look at his face rather than the dangerous area in my direct eye line.

‘There’s nothing wrong with being ambitious,’ he replies. ‘And why wouldn’t somebody as bright as you want to use their brain? Despite your occasional clumsiness, you’re the type of person who could set their mind to anything and be successful. You’re attractive, confident, quick. I know I’m impressed.’ He sits down on the sofa.

His unexpected comments warm me, soothing the sore spot ripped open by Tony’s recent actions. It’s the rawness most of us have, the little voice whispering insidiously that we’re not good enough and never will be. ‘Thank you,’ clearing my throat, ‘and did what I said help?’

‘Maybe. I’ll think about what you said. If only you could help solve some of my other problems.’ He chuckles darkly.

‘Like the woman who texted you yesterday, who you were talking about this morning?’ As soon as it’s out there I regret it. None of my business.

‘What do you know about it?’

‘I was standing next to you. You said
she
. Just forget it,’ I say stiffly, rising. ‘I’ll get my bag. We should go.’

‘I’m sorry.’ His voice stops me. He sighs, shudders. ‘Have you ever loved someone so much the thought of them being taken away makes you feel like shutting down?’

I gulp. He sounds tortured. Oh, God. Did I nearly help him cheat on someone last night? He doesn’t seem the type, is too principled, but you never can tell. I have to know. Sinking back down on the sofa beside him: ‘No,’ I answer. ‘I’ve never felt that way about anyone, not romantically.’ Hint, hint. Have you? I keep going when he stays silent. ‘I’d be gutted to lose a family member, obviously, and I’ve felt like that about other things.’ With a certain degree of irony, I think about my job, flat, friends … life.

‘What do you do?’ he asks.

‘Do?’

‘When it happens. How do you stop from shutting down?’

‘I don’t know.’ I shift, caught off guard. ‘Honestly? Sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you let it happen, shut down, and then you,’ I grope for the right words, ‘reboot. And you decide whether to fight, or walk away.’

‘I bet you didn’t.’

‘Didn’t what?’

He smiles, traces a finger along the back of the sofa near my shoulder. ‘Walk away.’

But perhaps I should have. I feel like the worst kind of deceiver sitting with him, sharing thoughts and feelings, while he’s oblivious to my motives. ‘What makes you say that?’ I ask.

‘You’re far too stubborn. No offence.’

I smile. ‘None taken, you’re right.’ I gather my thoughts. ‘But wrong too, because I’ve gone through something really tough and walked away for a while.’ In the weeks after the appeal when all I could do was rail against the unfairness of it all, before I decided to stop being a moaning Myrtle. ‘Then I decided to fight,’ lodging the ET, ‘which I thought was the right thing to do. And in some ways it still is, the principle is important. But, lately I’ve been wondering if sometimes hanging in there is worth it, if it isn’t more damaging to keep going when you know the cost is stacking up.’ I look at him, a guy who is hurting, clicking that he’ll see my fibs as a betrayal no matter what my justification. ‘When you end up doing things you don’t like.’ An idea crystallises. ‘Sometimes maybe walking away is the best thing to do all round.’ Is that what I should do?

‘I can’t walk away,’ he grinds, ‘no matter what the cost.’

‘Why? And no doubt you have unlimited funds, but I was talking about emotional costs.’

‘I know,’ he interjects. ‘But there’s no choice, not when it comes to this.’

I feel sick thinking he’s part of a couple. Or was he pining after an ex last night and I was some substitute? ‘So, who is she?’ I grimace. ‘This woman you love so much.’

‘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.’