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Her throat bobs and she blinks, her eyes flashing as her cheeks rapidly regain their colour.
‘No, we don’t know each other.’ Her cool tone is at odds with the heat now flaring in her face as she uncrosses her legs and turns in her seat. She rises to walk towards me and I fight and fail to keep my eyes locked on hers. They fall to the strappy red skyscraper heels on her feet that are far too bold and daring against the bland backdrop. Not to mention a marked contrast to the white dress that fits her like a second skin, its bold asymmetric collar different, unique.
The entire ensemble is something only a confident woman would try to carry off...and she’s definitely confident. None of the edgy nervousness I witnessed at the club. This is her true domain, her company, and she’s showing me she’s in control. Like a lioness looking after her cubs, priming for a fight.
She offers out her hand, her chin lifting so that her eyes reach mine. Even in those heels I have several inches on her statuesque height.
‘Valentine...really?’ Her eyes flash with challenge, or is that...amusement? I take hold of her hand, barely aware of the contact until I feel her grip tighten with her shake and I have the oddest urge to pull her closer. ‘I think you’re the first Valentine I’ve ever met; your parents must be old romantics.’
She’s overly at ease now. Her tease is bordering on flirtatious and I can feel the crease forming between my brows. I smooth it out with a forced smile as I question whether I imagined the explosive‘You?’, the pallor...
Maybe shedoesn’tremember me. It was dark. It was late.
‘You could say that.’
‘And you, Mr Boretti...Valentine...’ She drawls out my forename, the tease building in her voice, and I hear Alan cough to my left. Is it a sign of his own discomfort, or is it a veiled warning to Olivia to put the knives, or the flirting, away? I’m buggered if I know.
‘Are you an old romantic too?’ she purrs, Alan’s cough not even earning the briefest of looks from her. ‘Come to fix the reputation of a woman who has to be, what, nearly twice your age and should know better?’
‘Really, Olivia.’ Alan bristles. ‘That’s not...it’s not...’
I’m used to my age being an issue among those who don’t know me, but being underestimated nearly always works in my favour. I don’t like how she uses it now though.
‘What, Alan? What is it?’ she throws at him.
‘I think what he’s trying to say is that I’m here to look at the PR for the entire company, the charity too. Getting the right message out there is key.’
Her smile is saccharine-sweet. ‘It is, isn’t it? Reputations are so fragile in today’s world, where social media helps spread the word faster than one can...’
She rakes her eyes over my entirety and doesn’t finish. And I wait for it, wait and wait...
‘Well, anyway, since it’s not just me you’re here to fix, I have some place else I need to be, so if you want to discuss strategy with Susan, our director of sales and marketing, I can get on with some actual work and we can talk later.’
‘Olivia, I hoped—’
She cuts Alan off with a tight smile. ‘Alan will make sure you have my PA’s details, won’t you? That way, a mutually agreeable time can be arranged.’
Alan gives a resigned nod.
‘Excellent. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Boretti.’
And that’s it, she’s gone, and I’m left with five board members all looking at me with expressions as bulldozed as I feel.
And shouldn’t it be the other way around?
Shouldn’t she be the one left floundering, wondering what the fuck she’s got herself into?
Olivia
This isn’t happening. It’s like some weird dream.
I walk through the office not really seeing anyone, my hand still warm from his touch, my pulse skittering and my cheeks... God, do they burn!
I need to get some air. Some air and some conviction that it’s not him. That, no matter how similar he looks, it can’t be. It justcan’t.
Pippa, my PA, is making a beeline for me through the open-plan office and I wave her away. I don’t trust my voice, or my ability to keep a lid on the fire inside. I’m angry. No, I’m more than angry; I’m bloody livid.
Fixing the company’s image, the charity’s even, is one thing; fixing mine... I flick my ponytail over my shoulder and hold my head high. I won’t let them do this to me. I won’t let the office see me like this either. Just a few more steps and I’ll be in the outer foyer, another few and I’ll be in the crisp cold air and the...rain.
