‘Six months, maybe longer.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes, oh. The timing couldn’t really be worse, what with, well, you know. And then there’s Dad and the house to sort out, and… I don’t know.’
‘And you don’t want to leave Gregory?’
I groan, frustrated and increasingly aware that the ache at the back of my head is turning into a throb. ‘Let’s not talk about it now. I’ve got to go, Sandy, but I’ll call you later in the week.’
‘All right, sweets. You call me whenever you need to or want to and if you don’t want to in the next forty-eight hours, you’d better call me just because.’
I imagine her fake angry face and wagging finger, the same wagging finger she would shake at me when I was seven years old.
‘Okay. I love you.’
‘Love you too, sweets. Keep safe and tell that man of yours thank you from me. If anything had happened to you?—’
‘It didn’t. I love you. Speak soon.’
6
The lift doors open to the gold GJR Enterprises wall plaque. The usually quiet floor of Gregory’s office block feels occupied. Two men holding what look like camera accessories, both dressed in khaki combat trousers and black T-shirts, are hovering in the glass-lined corridor.
‘Mr Ryans’s office is just this way.’
I follow Sue, a new receptionist of Gregory’s. Her brown bob bounces as she totters along the corridor in kitten heels.
‘Yes, I know, thank you,’ I say with a smile.
‘Oh, of course, you said you’ve been before,’ she says on a nervous giggle, sliding her square-framed glasses back to the bridge of her nose. ‘It’s my first day and my last job wasn’t half as corporate as this. I’ve been up and down to Mr Ryans’s office all morning, helping out the staff fromThe Times– photographers, camera men. Gosh, he makes me so… so… flustered; I’m not used to him yet. The other girls warned me but…’ She shrugs and casually wafts a hand by her flushed cheeks.
‘The other girls warned you about what?’
‘Well, you’ve seen him,’ she says, her hair bouncing in alldirections. ‘He’s so… so… hmm, I need to learn to cope with it, like the girls said. He’s my boss, after all. He just looks so… so… oh Lord, I’m being unprofessional again. I won’t even last until day two at this rate.’ She snaps her head around to face me and stands still on the spot, almost causing me to walk right into her. ‘You won’t tell him, will you?’
If my head wasn’t banging like I’ve just fallen down a set of concrete steps, I might be narked at Sue’s obvious crush but I’m not that primitive or possessive. Instead, I feel empathy for the state of frenzy she’s worked herself into.
‘Tell him what?’ I ask, attempting a reassuring smile.
‘Thank you. It’s this one,’ she says, gesturing to Gregory’s open office door.
Gregory’s positioned at his desk, the foot of one leg crossed over the thigh of his other and his interlaced, manicured fingers held in front of him at his waist. Cameras, umbrellas and screens cast a purposeful soft light across his olive skin. My feet forget how to walk and I stand, gormlessly, gripping the sides of my ring binder files to make sure they don’t fall to the floor with my jaw. One day, I might get used to this man enough to not be blown away by the sight of him but right now, blown away is exactly how I’m feeling.
‘Miss Heath, good afternoon.’ The tall, flawless blonde I’m used to seeing behind the reception desk at Eclectic Technologies in her figure-enhancing pencil skirts whispers a greeting. ‘You can take a seat on the sofa over there. Mr Ryans is expecting you. They’ll be taking a break shortly.’
‘Thanks.’ I tiptoe to the leather sofa and place my files down on the glass table to the side as quietly as I can. I undo my coat and rest it over the back of the sofa then take a seat and watch as Gregory replies to another question from a man whom I assume is a reporter forThe Times Magazine.
As if he feels my eyes burning into him, he shifts a little in his chair and finds me. His straight lips turn ever so slightly up, then he winks in a way that’s most unlike the CEO Gregory. Despite myself and despite my usual ability to remain at least outwardly professional, I beam back at him, quickly biting my lip in an attempt to rein it in. Too late. Every pair of eyes in the room just landed on me until the interviewer continues.
‘So, Gregory, the youngest technology billionaire in the United Kingdom. To what do you owe your success?’
Gregory straightens the arms of his blazer, pulling the cuffs of his shirt just slightly in front of the hem of his jacket. It’s a move that’s terribly him.
‘Many things. Hard work, ambition but more than anything, in such a fast-paced environment, it’s important to make your sector your life. I live and breathe technology markets around the globe. I know what exists, what doesn’t exist and what ought to exist. I understand what businesses and consumers need.’
God,I’ve missed him. My watch tells me it’s half-past three. Seven hours I’ve been away from him and I’m desperate to run to him and fold myself onto his lap.
This can’t be normal. There’s no way I could stand to be away from him for six months. When did this happen to me? When did I become reliant on a man?For years, I’ve thought of nothing but work and my dad and now one man has derailed everything I know in a matter of weeks.My dad. I lean forward on my forearms and drop my head into my hands, massaging my temples with my index fingers as images haunt me. My dad, pushed down the stairs, frail, bandaged and strapped to machines, fighting for his life from a hospital bed. Alone when Kevin Pearson came back to finish what he started and pull the plug. The image of Gregory as a boy, sobbing as he watched his mother being battered half to death. Gregory just two nightsago, struggling beneath the chain wrapped around his neck – the mark still visible above his collar to those in the know. Eight hours, six months in Dubai. Either would be nothing compared to Gregory serving a life sentence.
