“Just makes sense for him to have somewhere this end as it’s a complete refit, oh and Olivia,” I add making Christian laugh at me again.
“Do not piss about with my staff, Mason,” he warns me, irritating me further at the inference of his words as well as the fact that he seems to think he has any right to tell me what I can and can’t do.
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning if you fuck Olivia and it compromises her work then you need to accept the consequences.”
“What consequences?” I ignore hisfuckcomment.
“Well for one I will charge you full price even if you cast her aside and she ends up back on reception which she really is very good at.”
My blood is boiling at his fucking attitude and words but the thing that bothers me most is that he considers her to be no more than a receptionist and that he expects me to cast her aside. No wonder it took her nearly two years to pluck up the courage to confront him about her career if this is how he treats her, her and her ambition.
I smile as I remember that she found the courage after our night together and that warms me inside and out.
“Whatever, Christian, but if it’s a problem for your designer to be based here until things are really underway maybe I should look at other interior design companies.” I know exactly what and where Christian’s Achilles heel is.
“I didn’t say it was a problem. I’ll let Sean know and ask him to ensure Olivia knows.”
“I’ll see Sean tomorrow.” I hang up only to realise I am lying down on my bed where Olivia lay a few hours before and my bed smells of her. It’s intoxicating and absolutely fucking divine.
Chapter 8
Olivia
I wake the following morning and as per my agreement with Sarah I phone in sick. This is usually something of a chore as Mr Peterson hates using temporary staff because they’re expensive so everyone else has to pick up any excess work. Today he is bending over backwards to accommodate my sickness even going as far as to tell me to take as long as I need. He only makes one reference to Mason when he says how impressed he was with my ideas but both he and Sean were concerned by how unwell I had been the previous day. Sarah is off work until the weekend so we are going to spend the day together in our pyjamas watching DVDs of Sex in the City which can make us laugh, cry and then laugh again with little effort, but I am questioning the real cause of my tears.
It’s late evening when I suggest going home and although I have enjoyed spending this time with Sarah I have to get back to my own home and stop overthinking what the story with Mason is.
He has made no attempt to call me and whilst I am primarily grateful for this, I am also disappointed that he gave up so easily and quickly. He didn’t even get my number from Sean or my office to make contact, which strengthens my resolve to put him down to experience.
“If you’re insistent about going home can we meet up tomorrow and go out, maybe I can talk Jed into coming with us. We haven’t been out for ages, he’s always so busy.”
My friend sounds and looks quite sad at her own words meaning I don’t correct her comment about not having been out for ages when we went out less than a week ago.
“Sure,” I say allowing her to use me and my sadness as leverage in coaxing Jed to come out with us. “Where?”
“Dazzler? I liked it there and they don’t let too many in or any really dodgy punters,” Sarah replies.
I am desperate to point out that I met Mason there and he did turn out to be a shit if not dodgy like my friend means, but her optimistic and excited face prevents any objections I have being voiced.
“What time?”
“We’ll grab a cab and swing by for you about eight, we can go for dinner first.” Sarah grins before giving herself a funny little round of applause that makes me laugh.
I spend most of Friday in my pyjamas as I had Thursday, albeit clean ones. Sean texts a couple of times to see how I am which translates to checking if I will be back at work on Monday, which I will be. I have to be because no matter what has happened between me and Mason I have to work; and I have a fantastic opportunity to prove myself. Even if he takes his office and bedroom away from me, we will have to find a way to deal with me working there, in his office, not that I fool myself into believing that he will sully himself with the likes of me again. In order to show that I can be professional I have been putting together some mood boards and a few ideas which now litter my kitchen table
My bath is full of expensive bubbles again as I prepare myself for my night out and in spite of what happened the last time I went out, I am a little excited about it. I have shaved and plucked everything that needed it and am wrapped in a fluffy towelling robe as I skim through my wardrobe, quickly skimming past my lace dress from a few nights ago, a dress that still smells of Mason.
“Stop it,” I tell myself firmly as I settle on a blue dress.
It’s a bit short but nice, almost a skater style but the back has something of a racer back and a cut out detail to the small of my back. I leave my legs and arms bare. Except for the bruising to my hand that looks and feels a little better now that the swelling has begun to go down.
My hair is fixed up in a twisted chignon that looks neat and yet casual at the same time with just a few strands around my hairline pulled down and curled with my wand. I remember how I used to spend hours doing my make-up when I was in my late teenage years, trying different looks but when I finished it was always still me looking back. The sting of tears makes me curse myself for letting my mind wander back there, to that place and time.
I refocus on my make-up that tonight is smoky blue/grey eyes and clear glossy lips that seem to make me look like I am permanently pouting. I’m not a big jewellery wearer so tonight add a simple silver bangle and matching hoop earrings.
A quick glance at the clock tells me I have five minutes before Sarah and Jed should arrive, so I slip on my glittery silver heels that benefit from an ankle strap. I struggle to fasten them with my clear varnished nails, but I eventually manage to do them up then grab the matching bag that contains my phone, keys and cash as Sarah knocks on my door.
