Thank you for the coffee.”
“Accepted.”
“What else?” He drained the last of his beer.
I sighed. “I need to get to grips with your diary and your way of doing things. Perhaps if you let me type up some of the documents you were working furiously on all afternoon it would take some of the pressure off and we’d have time to make some plans for going forward.”
He nodded slowly.
“You’re paying me to work for you, so let me work.”
“I hear what you’re saying, really I do.”
“Good.” I drank the last inch of my wine, then stood and reached for my cardigan.
He got to his feet. “Here, let me.” He took it and held it out so I could slip my arms into it.
“Thank you,” I said.
“So you will be in tomorrow?” A flash of anxiety crossed his face as he looked down at me.
“Yes, I will.”
“Thank goodness. Andre would kill me if I’d scared you off.”
“Takes a bit more than a grump in a suit to scare me.”
He laughed and again, that softness crossed his face. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Chapter Eight
The next morning before leaving for work, I topped up the water for my roses. They were becoming more beautiful each day as the blooms opened. The velvety petals were the color of blood and their powdery scent filled the air.
“Bye, Lullabelle, be good.” I blew her a kiss, though she didn’t acknowledge me, and then slipped out of the flat.
The weather had changed, which it so often did during an English summer, and I’d opted for light gray trousers and a sheer cream silk blouse with a bow detail on the collar. Teamed with patent cream heels and a thick silver necklace, I was pleased with the look.
As I’d expected, Tristan was in his office when I arrived. Once more he was talking on the phone.
I booted up my computer, then went to put the kettle on. I’d make him a coffee and see if he was true to his word about starting afresh.
Jenny wandered in and smiled my way. “Hey Stella, how are you?”
“Good, you? Sort it out with your boyfriend?”
“Yeah, he came groveling back when he’d calmed down. It’s always the same. He gets mad, shouts and swears, then when I’ve ignored him for long enough he begs for forgiveness. He’ll do it again in a few weeks.” She shrugged as though resigned to the cycle.
It wasn’t my idea of fun. I preferred a quiet life with a man who knew how to treat a woman—like Andre. “What does he do?”
“He runs a boxing club in the East End.”
An image of a big, beefy heavily tattooed guy came to mind.
“Though he says he’s going to sell it,” she went on, “and start up a new business, something where he can wear a suit each day, make enough money to buy us a villa in Spain. Maybe then we’ll get married.”
It sounded to me like Jenny was being spun a yarn but I didn’t know her well enough to comment. Had it been Sian, that would have been different, she would know exactly what I thought of a loser boyfriend.
“So how are you getting on with the big bosses?” Jenny asked, scooping coffee into a mug.
“Okay.” Mmm, yes, one of them was quite big. I suppressed a smile. “They’re very different.”
“Chalk and cheese.” She grinned. “Everyone says Andre is their favorite, he’s just so sweet and … well he’s not bad on the eye either. All that tousled blond hair, his come-to-bed-eyes and sexy smile. His ex-wife was one lucky lady to get her hands on that body.”
I agreed, though I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was with the man I was falling for being admired and discussed. I had a tendency to be the jealous sort once I’d staked my claim.
Hey, you have no claim on him. Early days .
The kettle boiled and I poured water into my mug. I beat down the unpleasant, bitter-tasting emotion of jealousy.
“And Tristan,” Jenny went on, adding two scoops of sugar into her coffee. “Well, he’s the problem child, isn’t he?”
He was hardly a child, seeing him shove that drunk up against the wall
“Accepted.”
“What else?” He drained the last of his beer.
I sighed. “I need to get to grips with your diary and your way of doing things. Perhaps if you let me type up some of the documents you were working furiously on all afternoon it would take some of the pressure off and we’d have time to make some plans for going forward.”
He nodded slowly.
“You’re paying me to work for you, so let me work.”
“I hear what you’re saying, really I do.”
“Good.” I drank the last inch of my wine, then stood and reached for my cardigan.
He got to his feet. “Here, let me.” He took it and held it out so I could slip my arms into it.
“Thank you,” I said.
“So you will be in tomorrow?” A flash of anxiety crossed his face as he looked down at me.
“Yes, I will.”
“Thank goodness. Andre would kill me if I’d scared you off.”
“Takes a bit more than a grump in a suit to scare me.”
He laughed and again, that softness crossed his face. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Chapter Eight
The next morning before leaving for work, I topped up the water for my roses. They were becoming more beautiful each day as the blooms opened. The velvety petals were the color of blood and their powdery scent filled the air.
“Bye, Lullabelle, be good.” I blew her a kiss, though she didn’t acknowledge me, and then slipped out of the flat.
The weather had changed, which it so often did during an English summer, and I’d opted for light gray trousers and a sheer cream silk blouse with a bow detail on the collar. Teamed with patent cream heels and a thick silver necklace, I was pleased with the look.
As I’d expected, Tristan was in his office when I arrived. Once more he was talking on the phone.
I booted up my computer, then went to put the kettle on. I’d make him a coffee and see if he was true to his word about starting afresh.
Jenny wandered in and smiled my way. “Hey Stella, how are you?”
“Good, you? Sort it out with your boyfriend?”
“Yeah, he came groveling back when he’d calmed down. It’s always the same. He gets mad, shouts and swears, then when I’ve ignored him for long enough he begs for forgiveness. He’ll do it again in a few weeks.” She shrugged as though resigned to the cycle.
It wasn’t my idea of fun. I preferred a quiet life with a man who knew how to treat a woman—like Andre. “What does he do?”
“He runs a boxing club in the East End.”
An image of a big, beefy heavily tattooed guy came to mind.
“Though he says he’s going to sell it,” she went on, “and start up a new business, something where he can wear a suit each day, make enough money to buy us a villa in Spain. Maybe then we’ll get married.”
It sounded to me like Jenny was being spun a yarn but I didn’t know her well enough to comment. Had it been Sian, that would have been different, she would know exactly what I thought of a loser boyfriend.
“So how are you getting on with the big bosses?” Jenny asked, scooping coffee into a mug.
“Okay.” Mmm, yes, one of them was quite big. I suppressed a smile. “They’re very different.”
“Chalk and cheese.” She grinned. “Everyone says Andre is their favorite, he’s just so sweet and … well he’s not bad on the eye either. All that tousled blond hair, his come-to-bed-eyes and sexy smile. His ex-wife was one lucky lady to get her hands on that body.”
I agreed, though I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was with the man I was falling for being admired and discussed. I had a tendency to be the jealous sort once I’d staked my claim.
Hey, you have no claim on him. Early days .
The kettle boiled and I poured water into my mug. I beat down the unpleasant, bitter-tasting emotion of jealousy.
“And Tristan,” Jenny went on, adding two scoops of sugar into her coffee. “Well, he’s the problem child, isn’t he?”
He was hardly a child, seeing him shove that drunk up against the wall
Similar Books
