I groan, pressing the mug to my forehead. “Oh, God. Just kill me now.”
Fifteen
Matilda
There’s only so much damage control a girl can do.
The dark circles under my eyes are still visible despite three layers of concealer and the prayer I whispered to my foundation brush this morning. My hair is clean at least — no longer smelling like a bar floor — and scraped into a tight bun because I couldn’t face the battle of curls today.
I’ve gone for light grey trousers and a simple white blouse. Practical. Forgettable. I even toyed with the idea of wearing flats — but at the last second, I slipped into my black glossy heels. My “serious” heels. The kind I reserve for interviews, funerals, or any day that requires emotional armour.
Today, I need all the armour I can get.
When I arrive at the office, Henry’s office is empty. Thank God. My stomach still isn’t stable enough to face him. He should’ve finished his 8:30 meeting by now, so at least I can hide behind my desk until further notice.
I boot up my computer and find an unread email from him waiting in my inbox.
From:[email protected]
Subject:Out of the office
Matilda,
There’s been a problem at Park Lane, so I’ve headed down there. Signal’s rubbish, so you might not hear from me until later. Can you organise my files for this week’s meeting?
See you later for our meeting.
Henry
Henry Chase
CEO, Chase Architects
Relief floods through me like caffeine. I’ve bought myself a few more hours before ourconversation. Enough time to get my head straight, prepare my project notes, and convince him I’m not a total liability.
I’ve barely been working five minutes when the office phone rings.
“Good morning, Chase Architects, Matilda speaking.”
“Matilda, darling! It’s James. How are you this morning?”
Henry’s dad. My face breaks into a smile before I can stop it. “James! It’s so good to hear from you. How are you feeling?”
“Ah, better now, my dear. You know what these doctors are like — worrying over nothing.”
“Isn’t it usually the other way around?” I tease. “Doctors don’t keep you in for fun.”
He chuckles warmly down the line. “You young people fuss over every paper cut. Back in my day, we just got on with it.None of this sepsis nonsense and flashing blue lights. Too much drama.”
I bite back a laugh. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better, James.”
“Anyway,” he says, cheerfully changing the subject, “tell me, darling, what fabulous heels are you wearing today?”
He asks me that every time we talk. Normally, it makes me smile. But not today.
My shoes have always been my mood board. Red means confident. Pink means cute. Purple — sassy. Blue means I’m feeling quiet or a bit low. But black… black means serious. Black meansdamage control.Black means I tried to kiss my boss, got drunk enough to need rescuing, and woke up to find said boss asleep in my armchair.
