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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘ROULA?’
They were sharing the glass elevator and Galen’s citrussy scent was too much...too strong. Death by bergamot, Roula thought as she stared ahead.
‘Just how many jobs have you applied for?’ he asked.
‘Quite a few.’
‘I feel like a reference machine...’
‘Sorry.’ She grimaced. ‘I honestly didn’t think I’d get so many responses.’
‘London?’ he said as the lift paused between floors.
‘It’s an amazing job,’ Roula said. ‘But I seriously doubt I’ll get it.’
‘Well, I gave you a great reference.’
‘Oh!’ She flashed her new smile. ‘That’s nice to know, thanks.’
‘I didn’t want to,’ Galen said. ‘But apparently you’re not allowed to do otherwise.’
And then there was a moment. An awkward one. Because Roula had called in sick the day before. Actually, she’d taken the red eye flight to London, and guiltily called to say she was sick from the airport.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine. Just a migraine.’
‘I used to get migraines,’ he said.
‘Did you?’
‘Really terrible ones,’ Galen said, and she realised he knew she’d been lying. ‘With an aura and everything.’
‘Oh?’
‘Thankfully, I don’t get them now.’
‘I’m pleased to hear that,’ Roula said.
‘Well, I was very concerned for you,’ Galen said, ‘Dora suggested flowers, but I said they might make you feel a bit nauseous.’
‘Probably.’
‘Roula, can I ask you a favour?’
‘Iamyour PA.’
‘Exactly,’ Galen said. ‘I wouldn’t ask Kristina to do this, nor Dion, but Yaya isn’t eating.’
‘Oh...’ Roula swallowed. ‘Since when?’
‘Well, she’s eating a bit, but...’ He was rarely uncomfortable, but she saw he was now. ‘Could I ask...? I know this is beyond the scope of your contract, but she wants fava soup, and the chefs there don’t make it the right way, apparently.’
‘It’s not a problem.’
‘You’re sure?’
