wouldn’t know charming if it bit you on the head.’
‘Speaking of heads, your problem is that your little head has been getting all the action, but it’s your big head that’s suffering. You know there’s such a thing as thinking too much, right?’
‘An affliction you don’t suffer from yourself.’
‘What’s to think about? The way I look at it, you’ve made your bed, you’ve just got to lie in it now. Or shag in it, as the case may be. Make the most of it, mate, because it’s only a matter of time before she finds out the many ways you’re a total bastard.’
‘Don’t let me stop you,’ I drawl, sitting back in my chair. ‘Please, educate me on my failures.’
Why indulge him? Because introspection is something I’d like to be distracted from. Because he’s right, though he probably doesn’t realise quite how right he is. But the more time I spend with Rose, the less I want to give her up. And the less I want to give her up, the more I complicate things. I’m so fucking aware that I could lose her the minute I tell her the truth. Would she do something rash for revenge when she knows the whole sordid story, like run out and marry the first man she meets to get her hands on her shares so she can be rid of me?
‘Nah. What’s the point? You know you’re fucked.’
With a final withering look in his direction, I return my attention to the paperwork in front of me. Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll leave. I initial the page and flip to the next when the door to my suite of offices opens again.
‘Does no one in this building knock these days,’ I find myself roaring.
‘Hey, you called me, not the other way around.’ Rose stands on the other side of the office with an unfamiliar scowl painted across her face. One hand pressed to her cocked hip, and in the other, she holds a brown paper bag.
‘Rose, you’re early.’ I begin to stand as she walks a little farther into the room, dropping the paper bag to the boardroom table on the opposite end of where Rhett lounges.
‘Yeah, I know. I guess you can always call this brunch instead of lunch, but it’s the best I can manage.’
As I draw closer, the scent of hot grease seems to permeate.
‘What’s in the bag, Heidi?’ She presses her lips into a flat line at Rhett’s goading enquiry, an uncomplimentary look gliding his way.
‘What it is is not for you.’
‘Is . . . is that MacDonald’s?’ The question is barely out of his mouth when he almost launches himself across the table. Meanwhile, I can feel my lip curling in disgust.
‘That’s what it says on the bag, doesn’t it?’ She whips the bag away before he can reach it.
‘MacDonald’s?’ I repeat, my response oozing with disgust. Disgust that goes unheard as the pair begin to bicker over the contents of the trans-fat filled bag.
‘I didn’t bring lunch for you,’ she says, holding the brown paper bag tighter.
‘Heidi,’ he says, infusing this with what I imagine sounds like charm to him. ‘You know you’re asking for it.’
‘Ta guele,’ I snarl. Shut it.
‘Relax,’ he replies, unmoved. ‘Mickey D’s milkshakes bring all the boys to the yard.’
‘Yeah, well, this milkshake isn’t for you,’ she retorts.
‘You can’t get a boy all raring to go and expect him to turn it off like that. Not when there’s a Big Mac on offer.’
Chin high, she swings the bag behind her. ‘A lucky guess. And why do you keep calling me Heidi?’ Though her voice is strong, the high colour of her cheeks gives away her disquiet.
‘The braid and the scarf thingy in your hair,’ he answers without missing a beat. ‘You look like you should be running through meadows with a St. Bernard at your heels.’
Rhett is usually pretty good on his feet, but it’s fortunate that she’s wearing her hair as she is, or perhaps fortunate that he chose to say it within her hearing today. Heidi isn’t meant as a compliment; it’s just a way that he gets to goad me. Remind me of where this all started. The knots he’s convinced I’m tying myself in. The fact that she worked in a strip club. Like I even give a fuck. ‘Come on, love,’ he resumes. ‘Give up the chips.’
‘No fries for you. Is he telling the truth?’ She angles her gaze my way, seeking my reassurance. This doesn’t come