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A grin breaks over my face. All that work, all that schmoozing. Callum won the contract and he didn't even let on. Part of me wants to run back to our office and throw my arms around him.
Bad idea, Amy. Very bad idea.
“I thought you'd be pleased,” Diana says smugly.
Pleased is an understatement. I'm absolutely delighted. Not just for Callum, although that's fantastic enough, I know what a juicy project this is. The project manager is the glue that holds something like this together; who develops the schedules, coordinates the work packages, makes sure everybody is doing what they need to.
Okay, so it's just the requirements phase. I won't be around to see the project come to completion, but if I do well at this it will be like getting the keys to the city.
A guaranteed job.
“It sounds good.” I manage to keep my voice smooth in spite of the adrenaline bubbling inside me. I want to jump up right away and start making lists.
“You'll be under the close supervision of Jonathan Cooper,” she says, referring to Callum’s friend. You'll also need to make weekly reports into the Head of Technology Integration.”
“I can do that.”
The smile she flashes is brief. “Good. Now I just need to identify a new PA for Mr Ferguson. It's not going to be easy.”
I think of the piles of receipts, his strange requests when booking hotels. His gas-guzzling monster of a car.
The way he kisses.
“No it won't,” I agree. “But I've left things shipshape and I'll be around if they have any questions.” I feel a flash of sympathy for the new PA. Having been there myself I know what a mess Callum can be. The way he's flippant yet exacting, a curious mixture of arrogant and nice that makes my pulse beat a little strangely. I'm a little envious, too. For weeks I've been able to spend most of my day with him, listening to him talk on the phone, watching him pace his office like a panther on the prowl. I'm going to miss that. Too much, probably.
Which is exactly why this new job will be good for both of us.
* * *
The next week passes in a blur; I'm buried in paperwork, fixated on Gantt charts and completion plans. I spend half my time on the phone introducing myself, leading to late nights at work, so that I catch the Americans at a suitable time. I revel in the buzz of making contacts, letting my work life make up for a personal life that's a footstep away from dire. The office becomes my sanctuary and my drug, comforting yet exciting, and I spend too much time here.
I finish a conference call at eight o'clock and pull the headset from my ears, laying it down wearily on the desk. The office is deserted; the only lights still burning are the ones above my desk, the others idle when they detect no motion. When I finally grab my coat and head out to the lifts, the lights switch on one by one as I walk under them, and it's like being in a music video. I shimmy a little, grinning to myself, then walk straight into the frame of Callum Ferguson.
“Oh shi... I mean sorry.” I back away before my body can react to his touch. “I didn't see you there.”
“Clearly.” I’d forgotten how lovely his voice sounds. Broad and burred, sexy as hell. “Did you have a good day?” He reaches across to press the lift button, but this time I don't step away. His hand brushes the front of my jacket and I get the stupidest thrill from it.
“Busy but good. What about you?”
Callum leans on the wall next to the lift, his arms crossed loosely. “It's quiet without you. My new PA brought me coffee before nine and I couldn't find the energy to shout at her.”
That thought warms me. “You must be losing your touch,” I say lightly. “You've got a reputation to keep up, Scrooge McDuck. Next you'll be giving all the staff Christmas Day off.”
The lift arrives and he ushers me in, his chest almost touching my back. It's unusual to have so few people in the elevator; a side effect of working late.
“Am I that bad?” he asks.
“I bought you a coffee and you shouted at me.”
“Ah, but that was a sign of affection.”
“You called my university shitty.”
“How many times are you going to throw that back in my face?”
The lift doors open and we step out into the ground floor lobby. It's already dark outside, and the interior lighting casts a moody glow, adding to the dystopian atmosphere. The security guard barely notices us when we walk past. Like always, I get a twinge when I step through the doors, wondering if tonight's the night that my dad shows up.
Like the office block, the plaza outside is empty. I stay close to Callum anyway, feeling his finger brush against mine as his arm swings. I try to pretend it doesn't affect me.
