“What? Why?”
“Just checking for knives.” She giggles. “Go on, open it then. She might have put cash in it.”
“A pay-off. A fiver for every time she’s been a bitch.”
“I’m not sure it’s a big enough wallet for that.”
We’re both giggling as I unzip the wallet, revealing a magenta leather interior. But it won’t quite open all the way and, when I peer inside, I can see something stuck in one of the pockets. I poke it, then burst out laughing.
“What is it? Is it money?”
But I can’t stop laughing enough to tell her, so I just hold out the wallet. Georgia takes it from me and looks inside. “Is that…” She pokes at it with her finger. I’m laughing so hard tears are coming from my eyes.
“It’s gum,” I manage to gurgle. “It’s a used wallet.”
Georgia is laughing almost as hard as I am. She zips up the wallet, handing it back to me. I put it in the box and shove it in the drawer.
“Glad to know all is right with the world again,” she splutters. “I knew that was too nice of her!”
“Maybe I can sell it on eBay. ‘Complete with supermodel gum.’”
We both fall about giggling again. Then there’s the click of a door closing. Georgia’s eyes widen and she stops laughing.
“Everything all right out here?”
“Uh, yes. Sorry.” Belatedly I realise how loud we’re being. I turn to Myles, wiping a tear from my eye. “Sorry,” I say again.
His eyes are twinkling, though. “Don’t let me stop you,” he says. “Is there something you need, Georgia?”
“Uh, no. I just… actually, I like Zara’s flowers and I wondered where she got them. Thought we might order some for the HR office.”
“I don’t know, actually,” I say. “They’re just here, every few days. I can find out, though.”
“No need.” Myles’s voice is slightly strained, and the twinkle is gone from his gaze. “They’re from me, actually. A gesture of my, er, appreciation. For your hard work.”
I have no idea what to say. I feel as though I’ve tumbled down some sort of crazy Alice-In-Wonderland rabbit hole, where boys want to marry me and supermodels give me expensive gifts and my boss, who I thought disliked me, has been buying me flowers.
“Right.” Georgia glances from me to Myles. “Right. Um, okay, so, Zara, I’ll talk to you later?”
“Sure.” Myles seems like he’s about to say something to me, but instead he turns and goes back into his office.
I watch him as he goes.
Myles
It’s quiet in my penthouse apartment. One of several I own around the world. All in major cities, all with the best views and every amenity I could ever desire. And all empty, except for me.
The kettle boils. I pour hot water over the bag in the glass mug, releasing the fresh scent of mint. Nothing stronger for me tonight, or any night. Not anymore. I used to enjoy a drink, tossing back beers with friends, savouring expensive wines with my meals. But that all changed the night a friend of mine went off a cliff, drink-driving, and took a couple of innocent people with him. Left a mess behind that I did my best to clean up. It’s been over a year now but the scar is still there, along with all the others.
I spoke to my father today. It’s the least I can do, I suppose. He seems fine. I’ve tried to help him so much over the years. But when he decided he was owed a piece of my business, I had to pull back. I cut him some slack, even then; he was never the same after Mum died. He tried to replace her a couple of times, but when his third wife left him a few years ago, trying to take a chunk of what he’d built with her, he seemed to resign himself to the fact he never would. He’s in a care home now, one of the best, after a stroke left him permanently disabled. I visit him as often as I can, pay for the best therapists, make sure his every need is catered for. I still love the old man, despite everything.
I stare out across the glittering sprawl of London, the river like a dark snake winding between the buildings. I feel edgy, restless somehow, despite the punishing workout with my trainer earlier.
I need to get in the water. The upcoming trip to Morocco couldn’t have come at a better time, if I’m honest. Besides business, it’s an excuse to surf and be just Myles for a week or so, rather than Myles Brandon, billionaire entrepreneur. I’m glad Scott is booked to come with me rather than Katya, especially as I’ve ended things with her.
She didn’t take it well, predictably, despite the fact she broke it off with me three times beforehand. At least I won’t be in the office next week, so I won’t have to deal with whatever stunt she decides to pull. I’ll make sure security keeps her out of the building, so Zara doesn’t have to deal with it, either.
She’s on my mind, of course. That lightning-bolt moment where we stared at each other, when I told her about the flowers. Why the hell I did that, I still don’t know. But I’m not sorry. I make sure she has fresh flowers on her desk every few days, as a sort of apology for being short with her. Or maybe just to make myself feel better.
