turnover of women. I’ve seen the photos myself. ‘I’ll be in the library.’
I can feel her eyes follow me all the way to the door until it closes behind me. She’s worried, and she has every right to be. I shouldn’t have pried, but I suspect she’s fed me that little information as another warning not to go there. It might have worked. Or it might not have. I’m feeling empathy for my difficult boss. I can understand the level of his grief from my own. I lost my dad. Just one parent. Losing both would have sent me deeper into the black pit with little hope of clawing myself out.
I relax and lean my back against the corridor wall, looking towards his office. The thought of seeing him again frightens me. I’m already struggling to erase the memories – his taste, the feel of him, the rush of desire. Clapping eyes on him again is likely to make me struggle harder, but I need to face this head-on. Delaying it will make it harder. Nip it in the bud.
Swallowing hard, I brush my dress down and ruffle my hair, then start towards his office, speaking quiet words of encouragement to myself. The huge, intricately engraved double doors look threatening when I reach them, and my eyes fall to the handle as my brain gently encourages me to enter. I start breathing regulating exercises, brush my dress down again, fix my hair again, and repeat my encouraging words to myself.
Then I square my shoulders and ring the bell before taking the handle and pushing my way into his office. My eyes find him immediately, standing behind his desk. He’s changed out of his sweatpants and T-shirt and is now looking impeccable in a grey three-piece suit. His hair is combed neatly to the side, and . . . oh fuck me, his glasses. I sway on the spot and my eyes scan his tall physique, my heart kicking at the sight of him. Now that I have a good idea of what he’s capable of, too, I feel conquered by him, without really being conquered at all. It was, after all, just a kiss.
A smouldering kiss. A kiss that made me dizzy. I’m certain there was affection there somewhere – somewhere amid the hair tugging and demands to shut the fuck up.
He’s on the phone, but he gives me a subtle smile as he stares at me, listening intently. ‘I’ve been busy. Apologies,’ he says, keeping his eyes on me. I shut the door, and he points to a chair opposite his desk, inviting me to sit with an encouraging nod. ‘I have it here waiting. We’ll discuss money at the viewing.’ He puts his palm over the receiver and lifts his chin up. ‘You okay?’ he whispers, regarding me carefully. He’s worried.
My head begins to bob a bit too much, my instincts telling me to assure him that I’m fine. ‘I can go.’ I point over my shoulder.
He holds his finger up and scowls down the line. ‘There will be no negotiation. Sotheby’s are keen to hold the sale, and I’m not averse to giving it to them. Let’s not waste each other’s time. It’s a Louis the fourteenth table. It’s solid walnut with marquetry, and the legs are gilded as you would expect. It’s a rare and beautiful example of its era, Burgess. Let’s not fuck about with insulting offers.’
I smile internally. Damn, talking business just makes him even bloody sexier.
He scoops his mobile from the desk when it starts bleeping, holding his conversation on the landline. Glancing at the screen, his eyes narrow a little as he looks up at me, thoughtful, before connecting the call and handing it across the desk.
I take his phone tentatively and do as I’m bid. ‘Becker Hunt’s phone. Eleanor speaking.’
‘Oh, hi. Paula here. Where’s Becker?’
Oh, he did not. No matter how hard I battle, I can’t stop the sizzle of annoyance from rooting deep in my belly. He knew who this was when he handed me the phone. Why would he be such a dickhead? ‘Busy,’ I say tightly, watching Becker wander a short distance away from his desk, leaving me to deal with another current fuck. She’d better not ask me to schedule a date in his diary.
Paula chuckles. She’s sensed my frosty reception. ‘Eleanor, I feel I should make it clear,’ she begins, clear and confident. ‘There’s never been, nor will there ever be, any physical relationship between Becker