I press my fingertips to his dark-blue blazer and keep my gaze down, too afraid to look up and be hypnotised.
He holds open the boardroom door for me. As we step inside, Williams gives Gregory a questioning look, which is no match for the what was that about? glare I receive from Jack. Gregory takes a seat next to me as we walk through the key provisions of the Sale and Purchase Agreement. Our eyes meet on numerous occasions and he seems more engaged with the deal than the last time I saw him. It’s a good thing. He’s my client and this is a corporate transaction. Yet I can’t help feeling bereft.
After an hour or so, a loud snort, followed by Lawrence jerking himself awake in his chair, makes us all turn towards him. He wipes his mouth and looks at the saliva on the back of his hand like someone else must have put it there.
‘Nice one, old man!’ Williams laughs, patting Lawrence’s belly.
‘Terribly sorry, Scarlett,’ Lawrence says to me. He sits up to attention in his chair and feigns excessive interest. ‘Carry on, it’s excellent.’
I will myself not to react but the stress of the last few days gets the better of me. My laughter bursts from me like helium from a popped balloon. It’s loud and childlike and feels amazing. I place the tips of my fingers in front of my mouth but the laughter keeps coming. I stop when I hear Gregory laughing with me, a soft but baritone sound. Williams joins, followed by Lawrence and, with the exception of Jack, who seems to have missed the joke, we laugh until my ribs ache.
Gregory shuffles in his chair, regaining composure. He straightens his trousers and spreads his knees apart. I inhale sharply when his knee touches mine and glance in his direction, hopelessly wishing it were intentional. His expression gives nothing away. I should break our contact but my limbs don’t move. With my knee pressed lightly against his, I continue to trawl through the provisions of the Sale and Purchase Agreement.
Lawrence calls a break a little after six-thirty and I excuse myself to the ladies’.
Jack’s standing outside, staring at me, when I open the door back into the hallway. I assess the corridor. We’re alone.
‘Jack! You gave me a shock.’
He continues to glare but says nothing. The sound of the lift crossing between floors is the only noise. I make a move to step around him but he blocks me with his arm, forcing me to back into the cold, metal wall. The sensor ceiling lights to our right go out. He’s been waiting for me for at least five minutes, long enough for the sensors to detect a lack of movement.
‘Excuse me,’ I say, lightly pushing at his chest, trying to move along the wall. He slams his left hand on the wall close to my head, blocking my path.
‘Running off to your boyfriend?’ His voice is hoarse. His breath is hot and stinks of tobacco.
‘Jack, please, you know he’s not my boyfriend. He’s a client, that’s all.’
‘You know what the problem is, Scarlett? You lead everyone on. You make men think that you’re desperate to spread your legs.’
He moves his mouth so close to mine, I can taste his breath.
I turn my head away from him. The lights next to us flash on. Gregory appears. Tall. Broad. Still. Protective and intimidating all at once. Jack drops his arm from the wall, opening my escape route. I want to run to Gregory. Instead, I nod in gratitude as I walk past him. He doesn’t acknowledge me. He doesn’t even move. His eyes are locked on Jack.
I pause before re-entering the boardroom, waiting for my hands to stop trembling. It must be five minutes before Gregory returns, maybe longer. He examines me from afar and I hang my head, shamed and embarrassed. Gregory lies that Jack was feeling unwell so had to leave. Williams looks confused but asks no questions. Not knowing what else to do, I go back to working through the Sale and Purchase Agreement. From the corner of my eye, I see Gregory take off his silver-grey tie, undo the top button of his white shirt, then rest back against his leather chair. I briefly glance in his direction and see red, swollen knuckles on his clenched fist. My distraction causes me to pause, giving Gregory time to check his watch and call time on our meeting.
‘Jackson will take you home.’
Gregory’s hands rest on the frame of the back door to the Mercedes. I look from his red knuckles to his eyes and wonder just how many sides to this man there are.
‘Thank you.’
He watches me. His face constricts. Then he closes the door before having an agitated conversation with Jackson. Gregory shakes his head then rubs his knuckles. Jackson gets into the car and we drive away, leaving Gregory watching from the street. I turn to look at him through the back window as he grows smaller and eventually disappears.
‘Are you okay?’ Jackson asks, addressing me through the rear-view mirror.
I nod. That’s all I can do.
As I walk the corridor to my office with Amanda, who’s discussing her date last night with Williams through a bite of breakfast bagel, a man from General Office wheels a stack of boxes labelled Jack Jones past us and in the direction of the exit.
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa!’ I place a hand against the tower of boxes until the man stops. ‘Margaret?’ I call towards the secretaries’ station. ‘Margaret, where are these boxes going?’
‘You haven’t heard?’ she says, toddling towards me. ‘Jack resigned from the partnership last night. Well, rumour has it he was pushed.’ She taps her index finger to one side of her nose.
‘What?’
The image of Gregory’s angry, swollen fist comes crashing to my mind and I stomp to my office. Livid, I call him.
‘Ryans.’ It sounds like he’s answering on the move.
