“There are a lot of them,” he says, and I nod. “Is your family large?” he asks, and it suddenly seems odd that a man who has known me, shared office space with me for almost two years knows nothing about me, hasn’t wanted to until now.
“No,” I reply with what I hope is a happy looking smile because I have no intention of sharing any details about my family with him of all people.
“I hadn’t realised you’d be here.” He seems to be using a friendly tone I’m not convinced by.
“Nor I you,” I reply honestly.
“Olivia,” he begins as though we’re friends, but I know this is going to change into something else because we’re not. “Be careful, with Mase. I’m sure he’s fascinated by you at the moment, but don’t read too much into it. He’s not always what he seems and when the job is over and you and he are over, I don’t want you to be embarrassed or uncomfortable to find yourself back behind your old desk with your old friends and life.”
What the fuck? I stare across at him and am unsure how I am not hurling my lemonade at him, glass and all, but I’m not. I’m just staring at him, unsure what to say because there is so much to process; firstly, he thinks I am just ashe’ll do for nowpit stop for Mase, which I reason I might well be. Secondly, there’s an inference that I am the latest in a long line of girls who have been paraded at these family things but his mother seemed surprised that he’d brought me here today, and finally, possibly the bitterest pill to swallow is that Christian sees me ending up back behind my old desk as a receptionist.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it and I can see why you’d be so forthcoming with Mase. He must be a very attractive proposition for a girl like you,” he says and before I have recovered from his first onslaught, I am reeling from the second.
I sense that we may no longer be alone but am unable to move although I have regained the ability to speak.
“You judgemental, depreciative, pejorative arsehole,” I say with a glare for good measure. “You know nothing about me because you never wanted to and whilst you think you know Mase, you know less than nothing about the two of us.”
He interrupts with a small sneer that really riles me, not as much as his next words though. “Less than nothing? Yes, if that includes the fact that you and he are almost permanently disappearing into his flat for extended periods of time, regularly reappearing freshly showered in different clothes. I don’t doubt he has you seeing stars or that you bring him to his knees by being on yours but that is never going to last.”
“How fucking dare you!” I say more loudly but am caring less with every word that leaves my boss’ mouth. “The fact that you think any of that, pisses me off. The fact that you think you have any right to express it pisses me off even more. Mase and the two of us together has nothing to do with you, nothing at all and the fact that you think I am coming back to work for you as a receptionist, well, that is the real bone of contention here. I am an interior designer, you know that, you encouraged the idea that I could become one whilst working for you and now it seems that had it not been for Mason’s intervention I would never have had any chances provided by you.”
He doesn’t even try to deny it, never mind sweeten the pill, he simply shrugs.
“Consider my employment terminated.”
“After the design—”
“Not a chance, with immediate effect, and I won’t be the one telling Mase why I don’t need to get up on Monday morning, I shall simply refer him to you.” I turn on my heels to see Dec standing just beyond the doorway having clearly heard some if not all of our exchange.
I pause to catch my breath and calm down before returning to the others or Mase but wait in a location where I can hear Dec laying into Christian.
“What the fuck are you doing? You’ve already taken one swipe at her and incurred my brother’s wrath and now as soon as his back is turned you essentially tell her that she’s just some easy shag that Mase is doing until he finds something better, and on top of that you have yet again told her she is no more than a receptionist. Mase is going to go ape shit when she doesn’t go to work on Monday because of you.”
“We don’t know anything about her.” Christian’s making a feeble attempt to defend himself, but Dec isn’t taken in.
“We don’t need to. I couldn’t give a shit who or what she might or might not be so long as my brother keeps smiling like he has been since he met her, and neither should you. It’s not as though we treated you with total distrust when Imelda brought you home, is it?”
“No.”
“No. We trusted Imelda to choose her own future with whomever she wanted and would have picked up the pieces if she’d made the wrong choice,” Dec tells my boss, my former boss I realise and begin to panic that I have just quit and have no plan, not even a reference.
“Bollocks,” I mutter to myself as I dip back into the conversation in the kitchen.
“But I don’t need another designer.”
“What about mother’s golden boy, Ronaldo? Surely he needs replacing if Mum’s sunroom is anything to go by.”
“I’ve already replaced him. The new bloke starts a week Monday.”
I feel sick to think that I have been overlooked again and the only role Peterson ever saw or wanted me in was on reception.
Dec seems to agree with me as he speaks again. “You dick. Why would you recruit externally when you have a fully qualified and apparently gifted designer under your nose?”
“That’s really none of your business,” Christian snaps. “She was employed as a receptionist and the only vacancy I have is for a receptionist so until I start telling you how to run your club, I would appreciate you minding your own business.”
“Fine, but I doubt Mase will see things your way and as he has a major financial stake in your business as he does mine…”
Dec leaves the words hanging between him and Christian, stunning me into the bargain with that nugget of information. Not about him backing Dec or the club, that’s no real surprise as his younger brother seems to be the person he is closest to socially but the fact that he has money invested in Peterson Michaels and is apparently a silent partner, so silent he has never mentioned or even hinted at it.
