Read Love and Liability (Dating Mr Darcy - Book 2) Online
Authors: Katie Oliver
Twenty minutes later, after reassuring Sasha and scheduling an appointment to meet, he rearranged his calendar and caught up with the backlog of emails and phone messages.
When he’d returned the last phone call, Alex leaned back in his chair and loosened his tie. It was nearly six. He steeled himself for the final — and most difficult — hurdle of all.
How the devil was he to explain that photograph with ‘Heather’ to Holly?
“Look, I know you’re pissed at me,” Jamie began as Holly flung off her apron and headed for the door.
“Can’t imagine why,” she retorted.
“I’m sorry, all right? I shouldn’t have laughed at that photo of Alex and the tranny. I know I acted like a prat.”
She glared at him. “You did.”
“But the thing is—” he swept his hand out to encompass the dining room “—we’re fully booked tonight, and I could do with another waitress on the dinner shift. You did say you wanted to pick up some extra work…”
Holly let out a short breath. “Yes, I did. And I do.”
“Will you stay on, then?”
“All right,” she agreed after a moment, “I’ll stay.”
With a sigh, she reached once again for her apron, tied it back around her waist, and set to work.
It was good to be busy, Holly told herself as she refilled drinks, took orders, and picked up and delivered plates of food that evening. Looking after customers — even the demanding, pain-in-the-arse ones — kept her from dwelling on her anger with Alex. Who knew what else — or
who
else — he’d got up to in Scotland?
Transvestites were probably only the tip of the iceberg…
She’d just gone out back, dragging two large bags of rubbish behind her to the bin, when her mobile vibrated.
Alex. This should be interesting. “Yes?” she said coldly.
“Holly. It’s me. I’ve called to apologize,” Alex said guardedly. “And to explain.”
“It’s funny,” Holly said, “but I’m having the strangest feeling of déjà vu. We’ve been here before — me listening, and you apologizing for yet another wank thing you’ve done.”
“You’re angry.”
“What
ever
makes you think that?”
He let out a short, frustrated breath. “It was just a bit of silliness that got out of hand. Unfortunately, these sorts of things happen whenever Dominic is around. I don’t even know who she — er, he — was. Except that he said his name was Heather.”
“That makes me feel so much better, Alex, truly.”
“Look, I’m sorry, all right? But you’ve no reason to be so upset with me, because nothing happened. You’re overreacting.”
“Overreacting?” she echoed, incensed. “I’m completely mortified! Jamie saw that picture of you and your tranny girlfriend, and he
still
hasn’t stopped taking the piss. He probably never will.”
Alex sighed. “I’m sorry, Holly. Truly. I regret the entire, ridiculous episode. I don’t know what else to say.”
“I don’t want you to say anything else, Alex,” Holly said on a fresh wave of anger, “except, possibly, goodbye.”
“Very well, then, I’ll say goodbye,” he agreed tightly, “after I point out that you have serious trust issues. Call me when —
if
— you decide to grow up.”
And with that, he rang off.
After saying goodnight to her last customers, Holly trudged upstairs to brew a pot of coffee and wait up for Jamie. She was far too upset after Alex’s call to sleep. To distract herself, she dug out her laptop and opened her email account, scrolling through until she found the message from Mr Ivens.
“…come highly recommended by Kate Ashby. I look forward to meeting with you to discuss your editorial future with
Cheers!
.”
Holly decided to investigate Mr Ivens. With a few rapid taps on the keyboard she brought up Google, typed “Sebastian Ivens” into the search engine, and waited.
Immediately a couple of results came up. Mr Ivens was a publisher, businessman, and entrepreneur…he’d recently launched several start-up ventures, one of them a new magazine aimed at young women…he lived in Primrose Hill, had never been married…blah, blah, blah.
There were no images.
“Well, Sebastian,” she murmured thoughtfully as she closed her laptop and got up to retrieve her mobile, “it looks like you’re the real deal. Now let’s just reread your email and see what you’ve got to offer.”
Some time later, the kitchen door opened, and banged shut.
Holly blinked and sat up on the sofa. “Jamie?” she called out, her heart thudding against her chest. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay. I’m a little jumpy, I guess.” She felt her pulse return to normal. “I was waiting for you. I must’ve dozed off.”
“I’m not surprised. You worked a fourteen-hour day today, same as me. Sucks, doesn’t it?” He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. “God, I’m knackered. It’s a shower and bed for me.”
Holly couldn’t help but notice that he was really fit under those chef’s whites. Who would have thought?
“G’night. See you in the morning.” He turned away, headed for the bathroom.
“Jamie, wait.”
“If it’s about that picture of Alex and the tranny,” he began irritably, “I’m sorry. I was only taking the piss.”
“No, it’s nothing to do with that. We’re over, anyway.”
“What?” He turned back around. “You dumped Posh Boy? I don’t believe it.”
She drew her jeans-clad legs up on the sofa as he came and sank down next to her. “More like he dumped me. He called tonight, to apologize. I… I wouldn’t listen. He was furious, told me I was upset over nothing.”
“Nothing? The bloody cheek! Cavorting with transvestites isn’t exactly nothing, is it?”
“He wasn’t cavorting, and it was only one transvestite,” Holly pointed out with a trace of defensiveness.
“Right, that makes all the difference.”
“Look, the point is, Alex is right. He said I don’t trust him, and I don’t,” she admitted. “I hate feeling so insecure and needy around him. But he attracts women like…like metal filings to a magnet. Besides, I’m not remotely in his league. I never was.”
“Bollocks!” Jamie snorted. “It’s him who’s not in
your
league. Poncey arsehole,” he added darkly.
Holly reached out to touch his knee. “Thanks, Jamie. You’d better take your shower before all the hot water’s gone.”
“Right.” He stood up then, reluctantly, and Holly stood too. “I’ll just go and…do that.”
“G’night, Jamie.”
“G’night.” And with that, he padded, barefoot, down the hall to the bathroom and shut the door.
It was late, but she decided to call Zoe and warn her that her father was looking for her. Her call went straight to voicemail, so she left a message.
Five minutes later, her mobile rang. “Holly?” Zoe said cautiously. “It’s me. I got your message.”
“Not too late to call, is it?”
“No, it’s okay. Couldn’t sleep, anyway.”
Holly heard the shower start up, followed by Jamie’s off-key singing. “Why can’t you sleep? Are you okay?”
“I am now.” Briefly she relayed how Erik had spotted her and Will in Kentish Town after they left Gordon Scots, and followed them in his car. “Will lost him, though, thank God. He drove that little Panda like it was a Formula One racer.” Her voice was filled with admiration.
“Well, Erik’s not the only one looking for you,” Holly said bluntly. “Your dad wants to see you…Poppy.”
“You
talked
to him?” Panic filled her voice. “You haven’t told him where I am, have you?”
“No, of course not,” Holly said, taken aback. “I didn’t tell him anything, just that you have a job and you’re not on the streets any longer. I said I had to talk to you first.”
“Thanks for that.” Poppy let out a relieved breath.
“I do have to ask, though — why won’t you see him? He obviously loves you; he’s been frantic. Are you afraid of him?”
“No!” she said, exasperated. “If I could stay with him, I’d go like a shot. But he’s always gone. That’s why I stay with Mum…which means I’ll get sent straight back to hers, if Dad finds me. And I’m not going back there again. Not ever!”
She began to cry, deep, wrenching sobs that left her unable to speak. Holly murmured comforting words and waited until her crying slowed down.
“Sorry,” Poppy said, and blew her nose. Briefly she relayed the story of her mother’s boyfriend, Erik, and his attempt to seduce her.
“Seduce you?” Holly exclaimed angrily. “He tried to
rape
you! He should be prosecuted. You have to tell your dad — and your mum, too — what he did.”
“Erik will say I came on to him, if I tell anyone. He told me he would.” Her words were resolute. “It’s my word against his. No one will believe me.”
“You’re wrong. Your father will believe you, Poppy. If you tell him what’s going on, he’ll do something about it. I know he will—”
“Oh, he’ll do something, all right,” she cut in. “He’ll kill Erik. He’s got a right temper, my dad does, and he’ll land himself in prison for murder if he finds out the half of what Erik’s done.” Urgency filled her voice. “That’s why you can’t tell him where I am, Holly. Promise me you won’t. Promise me!”
Against her better judgment, Holly reluctantly promised to keep Poppy’s whereabouts a secret from her father, and said goodnight.
On Thursday morning Jill buzzed Alex’s office intercom. “You have a call on line three, Mr Barrington. It’s Ms Davis.”
“Thank you.” Alex laid his pen aside and answered the call. “Good morning, Ms Davis. What can I do for you today?”
“You can accept my heartfelt thanks, Mr Barrington,” she said warmly. “I made an appointment with a debt counsellor, as you suggested, and my finances are back in order once again.”
“I’m very glad to hear it.”
“It’ll take time to pay off all of the debts,” she admitted, “but at least they’re manageable now, and I’m not being hounded by the payday loan company any longer. It’s taken a huge burden off me.”
“You’ve been under severe emotional and financial stress,” Alex remarked. “I’m glad I was able to help.”
“I’m truly grateful to you. If there’s anything I can ever do, anything at all — just name it.”
He picked up his pen — a Montblanc — and studied it with a slight frown. “There is one thing you might do.”
“Of course! What is it?”
“Tell me the truth about something, if you would.” He paused. “Did you play a part in Holly James losing her job? She’s convinced that you did. Your answer will be protected under client-attorney privilege, of course,” he added.
Sasha hesitated. “You won’t tell anyone? Not even Holly?”
“Not even Holly,” he agreed. “We’re not together any longer, at any rate. I’m curious, nothing more.”
She was silent, the line crackling between them. Then, “Yes, I did. I’m ashamed to admit that I had someone take a long-range photo of Zoe from the window, and I swapped the photo with Will’s at the last minute.”
“Who took the photograph?”
“A new hire, a former temp named Eleanor. I offered her a permanent place on the magazine if she’d help me get rid of Holly.”
“Why?” Alex asked her, mystified. “I don’t understand. Holly was a junior-level editor, after all; she was no threat to you.”
“In my mind, she was,” Sasha said firmly. “Holly was bright, full of good ideas and enthusiasm — exactly what our editor-in-chief wanted. I, on the other hand—” Sasha let out a sigh of frustration “—was stressed out, strung out, burned out, and, frankly, a bit unhinged by caring single-handedly for my sister for so long. I was really afraid that Holly would have my job. And I just couldn’t let that happen. I literally couldn’t afford to lose my job to her.”
“I see.” And Alex did see, then.
“I’ve been promoted to a senior editorial position at
Shout
. It pays very well, the hours are a bit more reasonable — and it puts me closer to my sister, Amanda.”
“That’s fantastic. Congratulations. So you’re leaving
BritTEEN
?”
“Yes. Tomorrow’s my last day.”
Alex leaned forward. “Ms Davis, if you truly want to thank me, I have an idea…”
The first thing Holly did after she rolled out of bed that morning was to reply to the email from Sebastian Ivens. She responded to say she’d meet him at Costa or Starbucks to discuss his offer.
He answered almost at once to say he was tremendously busy, and would she come instead to his office in Covent Garden? Holly gazed indecisively at the address on the screen.
Should she go? She knew she hadn’t a snowflake’s hope in hell of getting the job at
Shout
Zoe had told her about; she wasn’t remotely experienced enough. But she missed working on a magazine. And this new start-up sounded like a rare opportunity.
A second email popped up.
I’m meeting with a potential investor just now; will return to the office in an hour. Can I expect to see you at 9:30? My secretary will let you in if I run a bit late. I’ll gladly reimburse your taxi fare
.
She hesitated, then emailed him back.
Thank you. I’ll see you at 9:30
.
With a flicker of hope that maybe things were finally about to change for the better, Holly dashed into the bathroom, glad that Jamie was already gone and she didn’t have to share the sink, and got ready for her interview.
Edmund Street was lined with row houses. Like once-grand dowagers, they hadn’t aged well and were now relegated to the sidelines as offices and shops and mansion flats. She found the address she sought at the end of the street and went up the front steps and inside.
The hallway was floored in linoleum and lined on one side with a row of buzzers and an intercom. She found the one labelled “S. Ivens, Ed-in-Chief,
Cheers!
Magazine, 310’ and pressed it.
There was no response.
She tried again; still nothing. And no wonder, she realized a moment later; the intercom didn’t work.
Shit
, Holly thought irritably as she began to trudge up to the third floor, y
ou’d think Mr Ivens would at least spring for office digs with a working intercom
.
As she arrived on the third floor she glanced around uncertainly. The runner under her feet was printed with cabbage roses faded to the colour of rusty water. The wallpaper and wainscoting looked as if they hadn’t been changed since…well, ever. She sneezed.