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Scanning the crowded room, Poppy finally picked out Lesley in her distinctive white and silver dress and began to move towards her, an apologetic smile on her lips. She was a little late but then some of her colleagues had opted to stay on in the city centre and warm up in a bar before attending the party. But Poppy loved getting ready to go out at home and had known that she didn’t have enough of a head for drink to have sustained a lengthy pre-party session.
‘I really like that dress,’ Lesley said warmly as she flipped out a seat for Poppy’s occupation. ‘Where did you buy it?’
‘It’s not new. I got it for my brother’s wedding,’ Poppy confided, and then added in an undertone. ‘To be honest, it’s my bridesmaid’s dress—’
‘I wish my best friend had let me wear an outfit like that for her big day. At least I could have worn it again afterwards.’ Lesley admired the strappy green dress that flattered Poppy’s shapely figure and slim length of leg, then drew Poppy’s attention to the drinks already lined up in readiness for her, pointing out that she was very much behind the rest of them, before continuing, ‘It must have been an unusual wedding.’
‘My sister-in-law, Karrie, wanted a casual evening do. She wore a short dress, too.’
Poppy’s attention, which had been automatically roaming the room in search of a certain tall, dark male, finally found Santino where he stood by the bar with a spectacular blonde woman clinging to his arm. She lifted the drink that Lesley had nudged into her fingers and sipped it to ease her tight throat, but she resisted the urge to ask the chatty brunette if she knew who Santino’s companion was. After all, what was the point? Did it make any difference who it was? And it was none of her business either.
Indeed, she should not even be looking at Santino Aragone, Poppy told herself guiltily, because looking was only feeding her obsession. Having thought over Craig’s sneering remarks earlier that day, Poppy had finally faced the unhappy fact that he at least suspected that she was rather too attached to their mutual employer. That conclusion had unnerved her for Craig’s reputation for making others the butt of his cruel sense of humour was well-known. So, she would have to be more circumspect in the future, for languishing like a lovelorn teenager over Santino could easily make her a laughing stock at work. In fact, she would be much better devoting her brain to sussing out the mystery identity of her email correspondent, who had to at least like her to have gone to the trouble of trying to give her a warning word of advice, she reflected.
‘Who is she?’ Jenna enquired very drily of Santino.
‘Who are you talking about?’ Santino asked with a magnificent disregard for the direction of his own gaze.
‘The little redhead with the pre-Raphaelite hair…the one whom you’ve been watching for at least three solid minutes,’ Jenna completed between gritted teeth.
‘I’m not watching her,’ Santino murmured with cool disdain.
‘But even though you employ hundreds of young women you know instantly who I’m referring to,’ Jenna noted with rapier-sharp feminine logic.
‘Did you get out of the wrong side of the bed this morning?’ Santino drawled with his sudden flashing smile. ‘Exactly why are you trying to wind me up?’
‘Before I tell you—’ Jenna gave him a grudging smile of approbation for finally registering that she had been set on evening the score for past injuries ‘—you tell me who the redhead is and I will give you ten very good reasons why one should never, ever date an employee.’
Santino drained his drink again and dealt her a mocking glance. ‘I don’t need them, Jenna. All ten of them are in my mind right now.’
Returning to her table after chatting to various friends, Poppy sat down again. Lesley and two other women were chatting about Santino’s date, who was evidently the daughter of the owner of Delsen Industries.
‘What do you think of Jenna?’ another, less welcome voice enquired.
Poppy’s head swivelled, her startled gaze only then registering that Craig Belston had joined their table during her absence. That question had been directed specifically at her and she was gripped by discomfiture. ‘Why would I think anything of her?’ she answered with a determined smile. ‘All the boss’s girlfriends are incredible beauties.’
‘Now why did I get the idea that you mightn’t have noticed that?’ Craig rested his pale blue probing eyes on Poppy and her mouth ran dry.
‘Santino’s leggy ladies are rather hard to miss.’ Lesley shot a frowning glance at Santino’s PA and added, ‘Come on. You’ve been keeping us all in suspense since we finished work. Who sent Santino the naff card?’
Poppy froze and then gulped down her drink as her colour heightened.
‘Did I mention that it was an inside job?’ Craig murmured with tormenting slowness and Poppy’s heart skipped an entire beat, her every tiny muscle pulling rigid.
‘No, you darned well didn’t!’ one of the other women piped up in exasperation. ‘Who on earth working for Santino would be daft enough to send him a valentine card swearing undying love? I mean, come on, yes, he’s hugely fanciable, but he’s the last guy around who would respond to that kind of blatant invitation from a member of staff.’
‘You said the card wasn’t signed,’ Lesley reminded Craig. ‘So how could you know it was sent by someone in Aragone Systems? It didn’t come through the internal mail, did it?’
‘Just assume that in this particular case we’re talking about someone who’s not very bright,’ Craig invited, and Poppy’s tummy began to churn where she sat. ‘Someone who assumed that only a name would expose her identity.’
‘You recognised the handwriting!’ someone exclaimed.
‘I really don’t think I like this conversation very much,’ Lesley remarked suddenly. ‘Valentine cards are just for fun.’
‘It wasn’t the handwriting. It was a combination of errors,’ Craig explained to the table at large. ‘A distinctive perfume, a predilection for a particular colour and a love of flowers.’
Poppy was now as pale as milk and feeling physically ill with humiliation. She could not bring herself to look at any of her companions and silence greeted Craig’s last explanation, an awful uneasy silence that left Poppy’s nerves screaming and her skin clammy.
‘Now who do we all know who wears jasmine scent?’ Craig murmured.
‘I don’t know anyone who wears that,’ Lesley chimed in, and the two other women followed her lead to say the exact same. Painfully conscious that her companions were trying to throw sand in Craig’s eyes and deflect him from his target, Poppy had to grit her teeth to prevent herself from lifting her drink and throwing it at her tormentor.
At the other side of the room, Jenna was still in full confiding mode, but Santino was having a hard time dragging his brooding scrutin
y from his PA’s smug expression and Poppy’s pale, rigid face.
‘So, I hope you’ll forgive me for giving you a rough time tonight,’ Jenna murmured in dulcet continuation, ‘but I always promised myself that some day I would tell you the truth and make you sweat for a few minutes. Will you still come to my engagement party?’
Taken aback, Santino frowned. ‘Engagement party?’
‘I’m so grateful I’m not in love with you any more.’ Jenna sighed. ‘Didn’t you hear me telling you that I’m getting engaged to David Marsh and that he’s picking me up here in five minutes?’
It had been a long time since Santino had heard that much good news in one sentence; he was genuinely fond of Jenna and relief on his own behalf and pleasure on her behalf sliced through his growing tension. Realising that the blonde had merely been set on claiming a small slice of revenge for his past indifference to her, he flung back his handsome dark head and started to laugh with genuine appreciation.
The sight of Santino splitting his sides with laughter, and Jenna equally convulsed and holding onto him for support, filled Poppy with paranoia. Immediately, she assumed that Santino had told the blonde about her pathetic card and that they were laughing at her, for if Craig had guessed that she was the culprit he was certain to have told Santino. Feeling as if she had just had her heart ripped out while she was still breathing, Poppy nonetheless rose from her seat with as much dignity as she could muster, for she could not bear sitting there playing poor little victim for Craig’s benefit any longer.
‘You’re a real Sherlock Holmes, Craig,’ she said flatly. ‘I’m very impressed.’
Poppy walked away fast. Tears were stinging her eyes and blurring her vision, but she kept her head high and that was her final undoing. She didn’t see the small table laden with drinks in her path. She hit it with such force that the table tipped over with an enormous crash that seemed to turn every head in the room. For an instant, Poppy hovered, staring in horror at the smashed glass and liquid everywhere, not to mention the startled dancers leaping back from the mess she had created. Then her control just snapped and she fled.
