Read Love and Liability (Dating Mr Darcy - Book 2) Online
Authors: Katie Oliver
“Now, just a minute,” Alex protested, and turned to Holly in outrage. “I did no such thing. I bought a thong — off the rack, mind — at Agent Provocateur. And I told you that.”
“You told
her
about my
thong
?” Camilla sputtered.
“It wasn’t your thong! It wasn’t
anybody’s
thong!”
Alex, Holly noted with grim satisfaction, was looking decidedly flustered.
“It doesn’t matter whose thong it was, Alex.” Camilla’s voice shook with fury. “Because the fact is, you let your coworkers think it was mine…so you could win your sordid,
disgusting
little bet.”
“It wasn’t like that!” Alex told her as he pushed back his chair. “It was just a bit of fun. It didn’t mean anything. You know — boys will be boys, wink-wink, nudge-nudge—”
Camilla came to a stop and whirled around to face him. “Yes, the key word here is ‘boys’, Alex. You’ve acted, not like a potential member of the bench, but like a randy head prefect, comparing notes with his schoolmates on which girl is ‘easy’ or who gives the best blow job.” Her eyes glittered. “You disgust me, Alex Barrington. Rest assured, you won’t be getting
my
vote.”
And she turned and stormed out of the restaurant.
“Are you happy now?” Alex demanded as he stood up to leave.
“You know what?” Holly said, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I am. Goodbye, Alex.”
With that, she wheeled away and left him glaring after her.
It was late — just past two a.m., Will noted blearily as he opened one eye to squint at the alarm clock — when the phone shrilled on his bedside table. He thrust his arm out from beneath the covers and groped for his mobile.
“Hello,” he growled. “Who the hell is this?”
There was an infinitesimal pause. “Will? It’s Sasha. I think… I think we need to talk. About us.”
He sat up and ran a hand over his face. “It’s two o’clock in the morning. And there is no us. You were pretty clear about that.”
“I was shocked, Will. How did you expect me to react, after you dropped that HIV bomb on me, out of bloody nowhere?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said tightly as he threw the covers back. “I guess I hoped you’d stick around long enough to hear me out before you rushed to judgment.”
She let out a frustrated breath. “I’m sorry. I reacted badly. I know I did. But I’ve had time to think, and I’m ready to talk about it. I want to make this work.”
Will went into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. “Maybe I don’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, I’m not proud of my past. I prostituted myself, had sex with strangers for money. But it was preferable to the alternative.” He took down a cup and flung a tea bag inside. “I’m not the guy for you, Sasha. I’m damaged goods. If you’re smart, you’ll run away from me, just as far and as fast as you can.”
And as the kettle reached a boil, he rang off.
Jamie woke at noon on Sunday.
He sat up on the sofa and yawned, then reached out to grab a T-shirt from the floor and pulled it on. Holly sat cross-legged on the sitting-room rug, surrounded by boxes; the duffel bag on her lap was stuffed with clothes. “What’s going on?” he asked, and yawned. “Going somewhere?”
She looked up and nodded. “I’m moving back in with Kate. I start my new job at
BritTEEN
on Monday, and with the pay rise Valery’s given me, there’s no need for me to stay here any longer.”
“There’s no hurry. You can stay here as long as you like—you know that.”
“Thanks.” Holly rolled up a T-shirt and thrust it into the duffel bag. “But it’s time I moved out. And it’s time you got your own bed back.”
“I like having you here,” Jamie said quietly as he stood up. “You needn’t go.”
“No, it’s time — past time — I went. And thanks…for everything.” She bit her lip. “You saved my life when I got sacked, and I’ll never forget it. You gave me a job and a place to stay, and you listened to me whinge for days on end without once complaining.”
Holly rose and threw her arms around him, holding him close. He smelled of soap and Imperial Leather and…Jamie. She drew back to look at him. “I think the world of you,” she said fervently, “and I always will. But it’s past time I stood on my own two feet.”
“What about Alex?”
Although she’d more or less told Alex last night that she was glad they were over, the truth was, she’d never been more miserable.
She missed him. She missed his droll sense of humour and his arms wrapped around her and the way he ‘got’ her. She’d fallen for him the moment he’d opened his office door.
“I love Alex,” she said, her words muffled in Jamie’s shoulder. “I know you don’t like him, and I know he’s not perfect. But he’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”
And it was true, she realized as she said the words out loud. Alex
was
everything she’d ever wanted. The question was, had she realized it too late? Had she trashed their relationship beyond repair?
Jamie sighed. “I won’t say I didn’t hope that you and I might…work things out, eventually. But I always knew you were in love with him.” He grinned. “Maybe that’s why I can’t stand him. I’m jealous. I hope he knows how lucky he is.”
“We had a big row last night. He said I always think the worst of him. And he’s right,” she murmured. “I haven’t been fair to him, or you. I know you really do like Kate, but you didn’t want to upset me so you pretended you didn’t.” She turned back and resumed packing. “I’m moving back into the flatshare today. I start back at
BritTEEN
as Valery’s deputy assistant tomorrow.”
“Congratulations, Holly,” Jamie said, and meant it. “Well done.”
She looked at him hopefully. “Wish me luck?”
Jamie took her back into his arms and held her tightly. “I wish you everything good, Holly,” he said into her hair. “And I always will.”
“Welcome back, Miss James,” Frank, the security guard, called out as Holly pushed through the revolving doors on Monday morning and entered the lobby. “We missed you.”
She went over and gave him a quick hug. “Thanks! I missed you too, Frank. I’m thrilled to be back. And a little nervous, too,” she confessed. “After all, it’s my first day as Valery’s new assistant.”
“Well, you’re a damned sight nicer than that barracuda in heels what had the job before you,” he assured her. “And don’t worry about Ms Beauchamp. You’ll slay ’er, you will. Just like—”
“I know, just like St George and the dragon,” Holly finished, and grinned as she made her way across the lobby to the lifts.
Holly switched on the light in Sasha Davis’s old office —
her
office, now — and sat down at the recently emptied desk. It felt a little strange to sit here, at Sasha’s desk, in Sasha’s office…
Strange, Holly amended smugly, but very, very good.
She’d just found a pamphlet from Friendly Payday Loans Sasha had left behind in a drawer — with Alex’s work number scrawled on the front — when Valery strode in, dressed in a pink tweed Chanel suit. She paused in Holly’s doorway.
“Good morning, Holly. Welcome back.”
“Thank you. It’s good to be back.”
She studied Holly’s vintage, marabou-feather-trimmed sweater. “What a very unique sweater.”
Holly looked down at the cashmere sweater she’d flung on over her dress this morning. It was the same one she’d worn the first time she’d interviewed Alex Barrington. She wasn’t sure if Valery meant ‘very unique’ as in ‘I love it,’ or as in ‘I hope you didn’t pay more than five quid for that moth-eaten thing.’ Holly chose to believe the former. “Thanks.”
“I’ve just heard an interesting piece of news.”
“Oh? What’s that?” Holly enquired.
“Henry Barrington has won the election as the Conservative Party’s candidate for the House of Commons.” She eyed Holly. “You remember Henry. You interviewed him for
BritTEEN
a few months ago.”
Holly felt her smile slip. “Yes,” she managed to say, “I remember Henry.” Henry despised her. Henry wasn’t speaking to her. Henry, whom she missed with an ache that grew deeper every day, who’d made it plain that he preferred Camilla’s company to hers.
Oh, yes, she remembered Henry. She only wished she didn’t.
“This is big news,” Valery continued. “He’s the youngest MP the constituency of Chipping Barnet has ever had, and who knows? He might go on to become Prime Minister one day.”
Wow. Alex — her Alex — might some day reside at Number 10 Downing Street! How amazing was
that
? Holly felt a swell of pride. She could say she’d known him when he was a mere solicitor; she could say she’d kissed a Member of Parliament, and — her eyes widened — she could truthfully say she’d slept with the Prime Minister! And more than once…
“I want an exclusive interview with Mr Barrington for
BritTEEN
,” Valery added as she paused to pick up her mail from Imogen’s desk, “and I want you to do it.”
Holly stared at Valery in dismay. “But I’ve already interviewed him,” she protested. “We’d be…” she paused “…we’d be repeating ourselves.”
“Of course we wouldn’t,” Valery said sharply. “This will be a follow-on interview, an update for our readers.”
“But
BritTEEN
readers want to read about spray tanning and sparkly nail polish and celebrities,” Holly said with growing desperation, “not some boring old MP.”
“Holly,” Valery replied, her words deliberate as she levelled a cool gaze on her new deputy assistant, “this isn’t up for discussion. I’m the editor-in-chief of this magazine, and as such I decide what the content will be. Not you.”
“Yes, of course!” Holly agreed hastily. “But…I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Could she cite a conflict of interest? No, Holly decided, because then she’d have to admit that she and Alex were an item — with the emphasis on
were
— and she really didn’t want to go
there
with her new boss.
Valery’s eyes narrowed. “I want you to schedule an interview with Henry Barrington immediately, Miss James, and I want the draft on my desk by the end of the day.” And she turned away and marched into her office.
Shit.
How, Holly thought desperately, could she get out of doing this? She didn’t want to interview Alex! She’d accused him of compromising his principles, after all, and backing down on his promises…not to mention, she’d thrown him — and the red thong — under the bus, ruining his relationship with Camilla.
Besides, how on earth could you interview someone who refused to
speak
to you?
Holly frowned. She could pretend to be sick, and go home with a sudden onset of the flu. She could say her great-aunt Augusta had taken a turn for the worse, and died. She bit her lip. No, she’d used that excuse already, with Sasha. Valery was sure to remember that Augusta had died once before.
She could pretend to lose her voice…but that wouldn’t work, either, because Valery would tell her to conduct the interview via email—
Holly caught her breath. That was it! If she interviewed Alex via email, she wouldn’t have to face him, wouldn’t have to look at those velvety brown eyes of his, or hear his warm, posh voice. She could keep everything businesslike and detached.
And she wouldn’t have to transcribe a bunch of scribbled, incomprehensible notes afterwards, either. Cut, paste — done!
She feigned a cough and followed Valery into her office. “My throat feels a bit scratchy,” she began. “I think I might be coming down with something—”
“You’ll be coming down with the sack if you don’t get moving on that interview,” Valery said sharply. “No more dithering, Miss James. Either do your job, or I’ll find someone else who will. Kate, perhaps…?”
“No need, I’m on it,” Holly reassured her hastily. She returned to her office and resumed her seat behind the desk, and stared at the telephone with misgivings.
Oh, well, best get it over with
.
She picked up the handset and punched in Alex’s work number with a hand that shook slightly. After several rings, a woman answered. “Good morning, Grosvenor Financial Group, how may I direct your call?”
Holly took a deep breath. “Henry Barrington, please.”
“I’m sorry, Mr Barrington isn’t available. May I take a message?”
“No, thank you. I need to set up an appointment for an interview, this morning if possible.”
“Mr Barrington’s very busy,” the receptionist said doubtfully, “but let me check his schedule. Please hold.”
Holly waited, twisting the phone cord round and round her finger. In a moment, the receptionist returned and said, “You’re in luck. He’s just had a ten-thirty cancellation. He can spare twenty minutes. Will that suit?”
“Yes,” Holly said.
“Your name?”
“Hol—” Holly began, and stopped. She couldn’t give her real name, or Alex would surely refuse to see her. And she couldn’t say she was from
BritTEEN
, either.
“Holland,” she said quickly as she spotted a photo of the fashion designer, Henry Holland, pinned to Sasha’s bulletin board. “Henrietta Holland,” she added, “from
The
Guardian
.” She remembered Alex liked
The
Guardian
.
And with that, Holly informed Valery she was on her way to interview Henry, borrowed a pair of enormous Dior sunglasses and a long black wig from the accessories closet, and made her way downstairs, to Canary Wharf…
And her appointment with Alex.
With her Dior sunglasses thrust firmly in place, Holly rode the lift to Henry’s floor. She’d tucked her hair up under the wig; hopefully, between the fake hair, fake name, and ginormous sunglasses, Alex wouldn’t recognize her, and she could conduct the interview and leave without him ever knowing who she was.
She’d confess that she was Holly James, features writer for
BritTEEN
magazine, when the interview was done and she was safely back in her office.
“Hello,” Holly said to the young woman at the desk, “I’m Henrietta Holland, and I’m here to see Mr Barrington.”
“Have a seat, Ms Holland, and I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Thank you.” Holly seated herself in one of the wing chairs and eyed the thickly carpeted hallway leading to Alex’s office with trepidation. Surreptitiously, she slipped her finger under the edge of the wig and scratched. No one had told her how
itchy
a wig could be. She’d just have to resist the urge to scratch and get on with it.