Eric had retired just before I went on holiday and I didn’t know what happened to the executive assistant when the CEO retired. I was relatively confident it was like being the King’s wife: I fully expected the next guy would bring his own queen. It left me feeling less than secure. My life six months ago was not perfect, but at least you could say it was secure. These days I felt as if I was on a boat drifting, untethered. It was terrifying. I very much needed a job; I had a mortgage to pay. I was prepared to walk away from Delacqua to find a new one, but I hoped I wouldn’t need to.
The minute I arrived in the office, I knew something was off. There was a buzz in the building, a hum. People were having whispered conversations in the lobby and that was … unusual. The hum had a bristling excitement about it, and I had the distinct impression people were looking at me as I walked in. I frowned a little as the sea of office workers parted to let me into the lift. I knew some of them and I was surprised when I didn’t even get ahow was your holiday, Abs?I took a spot in the back corner of the lift, a habit of old to hear gossip, anything of interest. Part of my job was to always know what was going on.
I heard two young women whispering and caught the dreaded words ‘new owners’. My stomach bottomed out.What the fuck? Was that possible?Delacqua was owned by an overseas parent company. Was it possible it had been sold? The crowd thinned as the floors climbed until it was just me left, panicking, in the lift.
When the doors opened at my floor, the place was empty. The executive offices were on the top floor of the building and there were usually twelve assistants seated at desks in the centre. But today there were none and nor was there anyone in the offices round the edge, the space feeling like a cavernous, echoey hole.
My desk was at the far end of the floor. I pushed back my shoulders and walked towards it, my heels muffled on the grey carpet. The silence was eerie, reminding me of years gone by when I would come in on the weekend to complete projects or finalise something for Eric. It was also giving earlyWalking Deadvibes, when no one knew a zombie apocalypse had started.
When I finally reached my desk, I was greeted by a box sitting on top of it and all my things packed up.Right. Cool.On top was a picture of Ella when she was three. Peter had taken the photo on a weekend away in the Blue Mountains. Ella was holding out a wildflower she’d picked for me.
Life was changing so rapidly; I had to close my eyes and take a second to breathe. I was a firm believer in personal evolution. People needed change in their lives to grow, but it was completely overwhelming the sheer number of alterations taking place. It felt as though nothing was certain anymore. As if I was standing on sand, which was constantly moving, finding it hard to get my footing.
‘Ms Parker.’
I opened my eyes and was staring at a beautiful, ice-blonde woman in the most exquisite navy-blue suit I’d ever laid eyes on.
‘My name is Alana Sales. I’m the lawyer for the new owners, Hartwell Holdings. We would like a word with you in the boardroom.’
In my bag, my phone buzzed. I looked at it in case it was Ella’s school, but it was Kate.
Have you seen the news?
The lawyer cleared her throat. She had spoken with a European accent I couldn’t identify, no friendliness or politeness in her tone. She seemed hard, like Nordic ice.
‘Now?’ I asked, surprised my voice was still working.
‘Yes.’
I popped my handbag in the box on my desk and took off my jacket. The stress was making me hot. I had dressed very carefully this morning, assuming I was starting a new role today. I was head to toe in black tailored pants, a sleeveless black blouse, with black heels. My hair was in a tousled high bun, with a few golden strands out, to soften it. I’d felt powerful and attractive, right up till the moment I met the lawyer.
I walked on stiff legs towards the boardroom, a room where decisions and careers were made, where I’d been part of so much success and joy over the years and so few tough times. At the mahogany boardroom table, there appeared to be three men in suits, with their beautifully tailored backs to me. Two of them sat side by side next to Alana’s empty chair and another man was further around. Alana opened the heavy glass door for me. On the table opposite her empty seat, a glass of water, a notepad and a pencil were laid out, and I walked towards it, not looking up until I was seated.
The man next to Alana was in his fifties, with grey hair blending into a designer grey suit.
‘This is my associate, Mr Jeremy Liu,’ Alana began, pointing to her right.
I nodded at him and then my eyes travelled down the table to the other two men and I stopped breathing momentarily, my mouth opening. Alana’s voice kept going, but it sounded distant.
‘The owners of Hartwell Holdings and my clients, Mr Nicholas Northby and Mr Oliver Northby.’
Oh, shit.
My eyes moved to Oliver. The personal valet was gone. His hair had been cut, and he was clean-shaven. He was dressed elegantly in a navy pinstripe suit, a crisp white shirt and a burgundy tie. Our eyes met briefly, but there was no warmth or recognition. He kept his face impassive.
Nick was …Jesus. I pushed away images of soft white curtains fluttering in the warm breeze, of him wrestling with sheets, laughing as he ripped them off the bed, of his eyes filled with desire and longing for me, and the feel of the large span of his hands on my body.
The man in front of me was not the same man. He sat like a beautiful statue, impassive and cold, his navy suit cut to perfection but straining slightly against his broad shoulders, wealth and privilege wafting off him. How had I not noticed that before? He too had shorter hair and his almost-beard was gone. He was cleanly shaven, leaving rosy cheeks that made him look younger than I knew he was.
There was no greeting, no look of recognition. Nothing at all. Not a single acknowledgement of two weeks spent exploring one another’s bodies, living together and sleeping together.
‘Ms Parker,’ Alana began.
I jumped a little. ‘It’s just Abbey.’ I did not take my eyes off my anchor in the room, my person. Nick.
‘For the purpose of this interview, I think it’s best we remain quite formal,’ Alana said with a little bit of acid, dragging my attention.
I blinked at her hostility.
