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Now she felt nothing but a sense of profound loss.
All the happiness had been sucked out of her.
Polly turned her head and looked at the prospectus that lay by her bed but somehow today it didn’t have the power to lift her spirits as it had the day before.
Frightened by how bad she felt, she tried to reason with herself.
She’d done everything she’d set out to do.
No one was going to be fired. Thanks to Gérard, money and business was flowing into the company. Damon was finally aware of her true role in the company.
She should feel proud. Relieved.
But suddenly none of that seemed important.
Instead of feeling as if she’d won, she felt as if she’d lost.
Everything.
The temptation to go off sick on Monday was huge.
‘Don’t go in,’ her father urged as Polly grabbed her BlackBerry and slipped it in her bag. ‘Just stay at home. Switch your phone off.’
‘I have a job, Dad. Responsibilities.’ She gave him a pointed look and he had the grace to colour. ‘We’ve just won a massive account and I’m in charge of it. Excuse me. I’m going to be late.’
She travelled to work by her usual route, feeling as though she had lead weights attached to her feet.
Maybe Damon would be in meetings all day. Or perhaps he would have found a reason to travel to New York or Athens. She didn’t know which would be worse—seeing him or not seeing him.
The moment she walked onto her floor she sensed something different in the atmosphere.
‘Morning, Polly,’ Debbie said cheerfully. ‘Coffee and muffin on your desk.’
Polly decided that to confess that she wasn’t hungry would simply invite questions, so she just smiled. ‘Thanks. I’m going to have a team meeting at eleven to discuss the High Kick Hosiery account. Can you summon the troops?’
‘Sure, but I just took a call for you—could you pop down to the tenth floor. Accounts.’
Polly put her bag down on her desk. ‘Why?’
‘No idea. I just follow orders. And there are enough of them flying around here.’ With that enigmatic statement Debbie strolled off, leaving Polly with the distinct feeling that something was going on.
Did they all know what had happened between her and Damon?
The thought horrified her and suddenly escaping to the accounts floor seemed like a good idea.
Pushing open the doors, she walked onto the tenth floor and stopped in astonishment.
The last time she’d been down here it had been as stark and businesslike as the rest of the Doukakis office space. Now, it had been transformed into a carbon copy of her own floor. Photographs had appeared on desks, along with small personal items. Plants clustered in a central point, bringing a soothing, relaxing quality to the huge area.
Astonished, Polly turned to the woman nearest to her. ‘Er—what happened here?’
‘Hav
en’t you seen the e-mail?’ Grinning, the woman tapped a few keys on her machine and brought up an e-mail. ‘Here we are. It came right from the top. “Personalising the office”.’
Polly leaned forward and read over her shoulder:
With immediate effect the hot desk system that we have operated for the past year will cease. Employees are encouraged to personalise their office space in any way that they believe will make them more productive. DD
