Disgrace (36 page)

Hello Sam, It’s Peitra please don’t press delete, I want to apologise. It’s my last day as an intern at Stone Enterprises. I haven’t applied for a full-time position here. I doubt I would get offered a place if I did. I don’t deserve to work here after the appalling way I behaved. I am utterly ashamed of how I spoke to you and how I went after Jason when I knew full well he had a girlfriend. I can’t imagine what you think of me. Actually, I can, and I deserve it. But I wanted to say sorry and maybe take you for lunch today as way of apology. It isn’t nearly enough, but since I am going away for a few months tomorrow it is the least I can do. Please let me do this. As one of Sofia’s best friends it is likely we will see each other at some point in the future, and I would like this opportunity to clear the air. If you are free, there is a new place opened just off Piccadilly called The Alpha Bar. I’ve heard the food is good. I have made a reservation for one o’clock. If you don’t come, I completely understand, and again, I am truly sorry. xP

I had read the message several times when in a huff of frustration Leon snatches the phone from my hand and reads it himself.

“Wow.” Leon hands me my phone back.

“I know.” I stare at the message like it has something else to reveal. “Should I go?”

“Do you think she’s being sincere?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know her at all. She’s nothing like her cousin, but the text certainly reads like she means it.” I lift my shoulders and let them drop heavily. I’m stumped. “I did not see this coming.”

“Could it be a trap?” He raises a cautious brow.

“A trap for what?” I shake my head at his dramatics.

“I don’t know. She could spike your drink and stage some compromising scenario to photograph you in and blackmail.”

“A little elaborate don’t you think? It’s not like Jason doesn’t have compromising photographs of me already.” I grin at his mock shocked face. “Besides, it’s not like Jason is going to take her back. He was not happy, and I doubt she still thinks she has a chance with him.” I mutter.

“But, hell hath no fury and all that.” Leon raises a very good point.

“Oh, I’m sure she was furious, but that ship has sailed, and she says herself we are going to bump into one another. Maybe she is genuine.”

“In my profession I tend to see the dark side more than the light. Except with you babe…you are all light.” He nudges me and I wrinkle my nose at his compliment.

“Okay, I’ll meet her but if photos do appear on the internet explain to Jason that we
did
have our doubts, and I didn’t just bound over to meet her like a big, dumb dog.”

“And don’t accept any unsealed drinks,” he warns me. I scoff and point an acknowledging salute at his retreating form.

“Right you are, Dad.” He ruffles my hair and jumps up from the sofa.

“What time’s your interview?”

“Three thirty, so I have plenty of time to kiss and make up and then head over. I’ll just drop Jason a text to let him know.”

“Call me when you’re done.” He waits until I acknowledge his request.

“The interview?” I clarify.

“Both…I want to know you’re safe and I want to get the champagne on ice to celebrate.” He flashes his bright smile, white teeth a sharp contrast against his permanently dark tanned skin.

“Thanks, Leon.” He leans over the back of the sofa to plant a soft kiss on the top of my head.

“Love ya, babe, but I have to crash,” he groans.

“You can sleep after a shot of whiskey and a double espresso?” I chuckle.

“Watch and learn, baby…watch and learn.” He waves his hand, his back disappearing into the hallway without a backward glance.

The Alpha Bar is in the basement. There is a bijoux art gallery above selling an eclectic mix of mostly modern art. In the centre of the large display window is a striking piece. I find myself staring for some time at the impressive glass sculpture. It’s an abstract piece, I think, but to me it looks like a deep wave folding in on itself. The aquamarine colour darkens to almost black as the depth of the glass deepens, just like the ocean. I look up to catch a pair of kind grey eyes staring back at me. I give a little wave, which makes the gentleman in the gallery smile, but he doesn’t return my wave. He motions to the door, which has a typed sign indicating viewing by appointment only, and I quickly shake my head and point to the entrance of the club. He nods in understanding, and I wave again, this time turning away. I descend the steps and am greeted by a young, immaculately dressed young woman, whose platinum blonde hair is scrapped back into a neat bun. Her bright red lipstick matches my own, and I recognise the shade. Unless I’m mistaken, it’s a Chanel ninety-seven Desinvolte Rouge. She smiles tightly and asks me to follow her when I politely decline to give her my coat. I think to myself I might need to make a speedy getaway if this all goes tits up.

The room is dimly lit with a small drop bulb hanging over each table but casting little in the way of actual light. The dark walls have black and white artwork and old cityscape photographs. The tables all have crisp white linen and gleaming silverware. The seats are covered in dark leather and the fittings are highly polished steel. Modern with no atmosphere, it may be different when filled with patrons, but at this time, it has a creepy, clinical feel to it. The room is empty but for a lone barman, and seated in the rear right corner of the room is Peitra. I get a rush of nervous knots in my tummy, but she smiles brightly and I am happy the feeling quickly dissipates. She stands and reaches for my hand, grabbing it tightly in both of hers.

“I am so glad you came, Sam. I can’t tell you.” She rushes her words, flustered, and an anxious expression settles on her features. She motions for me to sit beside her on the padded bench.

“I was a little surprised to get your message.” I draw in a deep steadying breath as I feel my nerves begin to rise unbidden. This is stupid. I shake myself; it’s probably the thought of my interview later playing in my subconscious.

The waiter arrives with two aperitifs. I think about my conversation with Leon and shake myself again. The nerves are not only making me a wreck, they are inducing paranoia, too.

“I hope you don’t mind. I ordered some drinks for us. I’m so nervous and honestly if you hadn’t shown up I would’ve drunk them both anyway.” Her smile is brief but friendly, almost shy. I return her smile and try to push my own worries aside. Still something in the way her eyes flit around the empty room is unsettling, and I don’t know what possesses me, but just as she reaches for her glass I switch, placing mine before her and taking her drink as my own. Her face is impassive, but her lips start to tip upward and she slowly picks her glass up. My eyes are fixed on her lips and I exhale a stupid breath when she takes a large sip. I feel ridiculous. I take a large unladylike chug of the prosecco, grateful for the little buzz, cooling liquid and bubble. The glass is almost empty when I place it on the table. Her smile, which has remained fixed, purses to life as she raises her glass and spits her very full mouthful back into the flute.

“I’m so sorry, Sam.” Her saccharin voice is as sickening as the smile that distorts her face with cold cruelty. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Peitra?” I blow out a breath. I feel hot and a little queasy. My arms slide from the table and drop heavily at my side. They feel all wrong, so heavy. Peitra lifts my hand, and in my mind I yank it out of her hold but nothing happens.

“No, Sam,” she repeats slowly as if speaking to a small child. “I’m really sorry for
you
.” She slips the cuff Jason gave me from my hand and I shout at her and pull free. Only I don’t…I don’t move, maybe I slip a little further down in my seat but that is all I manage.

I feel exhausted. Maybe if I have a nap now, when I wake, I will be able to slap that bitch up. It feels like someone has placed large, fuzzy muffs over my ears. I can’t hear exactly what’s being said. I don’t recognise the words, and I am having trouble focusing on anything because everything is as fuzzy as the sounds I hear and everything is moving. The last image of hanging bulbs bright above me dissolves to blackness.

“S
andy, my brother is meeting me for a late lunch. Don’t let him go walking around the other departments firing people like he did last time. Daniel didn’t find that amusing, and I could do without the icy glares that took months to die down.” Sandy grimaces and nods, fully appreciative of the chaos Will had created the last time he visited me at headquarters. He may be a respectable scientist on the other side of the pound, but here he tends to delight in causing carnage at my expense.

“Will do, Mr Sinclair. Would you like security to keep him downstairs?” She bites her lips to hide her smile. Will also managed to bypass security and reset my clearance with his own fingerprint. He was only in the building for ten minutes.

“No, I don’t want him anywhere near security. Just let him come straight to my office. But make sure he takes the express lift. Get Eddie to accompany him to be safe.” I pointedly raise a knowing brow, and she nods in agreement.

“Good idea. I will call down to the front desk to make sure they know to expect him.” I turn and notice my office door is closed.

“Is there someone in my office, Sandy?”

“Not that I’m aware, but then I have been in a department meeting for the last half an hour. Would you like me to check?” She pushes back from her chair, but I wave my hand for her to remain seated.

“No, its fine.” I flash her an easy smile that always causes her cheeks to pink. She is an attractive woman in her late fifties, still turning heads and fiercely protective of me. As gatekeepers go there is no one better. I bet that feisty attitude keeps her husband on his toes. I smile thinking of my own someone keeping me on my toes.

“Would you like a coffee?” She interrupts my wayward thoughts.

“That would be great, thank you.” I turn and walk to my door. The handle squeaks, and I push the door wide. Peitra is standing by my desk and nearly jumps a clear foot in the air with shock. Her face is a flash of panic but settles into an awkward, fixed smile. It’s her last day, and I can’t say I’m
not
relieved at the notion that she will be leaving the company permanently.

“Mr Sinclair.” She smiles quickly but still looks nervous. I glance around the room to check for something amiss. The room has minimal furniture as it is, and I have a clear desk policy, so there are no loose papers with confidential information I need to be concerned with. My laptop is on the desk but it is closed and has fingerprint security. My jacket is hanging over the back of my chair but my wallet is in my trouser pocket. I don’t know why I feel the need to do this mini inventory. I don’t believe she is a thief, but I also don’t entirely trust her, either. I walk around my desk and sit down. I subtly check the weight of the pockets on my suit jacket. I lift my phone free from the inside pocket and flip it open. No missed calls, no messages and no dialled numbers. I snap it shut and fix Peitra with an impassive stare.

“Is there some specific reason you are in my office with the door closed?” She flashes a timid smile, and she won’t hold eye contact. If I wasn’t so suspicious, I might put that down to her being intimidated or uncomfortable that our last interaction wasn’t pleasant. But I read people, and that’s not it at all. She is really nervous.