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My ears prick up. Phoebus IV is the newest model in Arrowmile’s car range; Craig looks after the project for our team, and I asked to get involved a bit since I know it’s an important one.
But then I hear Craig say, ‘You might be just as well to talk to Anna, actually. I asked her to pull together the report ahead of next week’s meeting, so she’ll probably have more up-to-date information than me.I’ve got to jump on a call in a few minutes anyway. Anna,’ he calls, and they both turn towards me. I blush; it’ssoobvious that I’ve been eavesdropping on the whole exchange. Crap. I sit up straighter and do my best to pretend I’m only just noticing them.
Lloyd’s posture stiffens, and he looks less than thrilled about this development.
Yeah, well, that makes two of us.
The last thing I want is one-on-one time with Lloyd. I don’t need more reminders of our night together or the kiss, or how one wrong move could ruin my entire summer.
‘Anna, are you alright to take Lloyd through some of the Phoebus IV stuff?’ Craig asks, completely oblivious.
‘Of course.’ My response is automatic; I don’t want to be a ‘no’ person, not here. I can’t afford to be. Lloyd says a quick thank you to Craig then makes his way towards me – and perches right on my desk, leaning with his hands braced against it, just inches away from me. Close enough that I can smell him. Not the cologne, this time – something softer, rich and familiar and just on the tip of my tongue, though I can’t quite place it. I edge my chair back a little, and breathe through my mouth.
‘So you probably already noticed, but Phoebus IV is coming inwayunder budget right now. I’m trying to work out why. Something feels off.’
There’s something off about hisvoice, I want to say. Although it’s steady – casual, even – it rings with quiet authority, a confidence that feels more like arrogance. He waits patiently, expectantly, for me to cough up the information he’s after. I count to three before Lloyd gives me the dazzling smile I’m beginning to think must be his trademark expression.
With a smile like that and a name like his, it’s no wonder everyone falls at his feet to give him anything he asks for.
I lean back in my seat a little. ‘What do you need it for?’
He blinks, visibly startled. I wonder if this is the first time he’s been questioned about this kind of thing, which only makes me dig my heels in further, enjoying messing with him a little too much. I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to answer.
Lloyd rolls his eyes, amused. ‘Because, like I said, something’s not adding up, but I can’t work out what. I know what happens in these kinds of projects – the lab team are so deep in the details they miss the big picture, and someone in charge tries to sugar-coat it for whoever’s in charge ofthem. Someone else is always focused on protecting the investment …’
‘And what, it’syourjob to get to the truth?’
Lloyd shrugs. ‘Maybe. So – are you gonna let me look at those files, Annalise?’
I’m loath to be another person he can walk all over, but I also know that everyone will know if I don’t play ball. If I’m a ‘no’ person, not a team player.
‘Just this once, then. Go get a chair, Fletcher. I’ll give you twenty minutes, and that’s your lot.’
He bounces up from his spot against my desk, grabbing a nearby empty chair and swinging it into place beside me, settling low into it with his elbows on his knees. He gives me that smile again, slanted and swaggering.
‘That’s all I need,’ he says.
It’s not that I’mavoidingthe other interns. I’m not. I spend a bunch of time with Elaine and Louis (admittedly, because we live together, but still – we take turns cooking dinner, or hang out sometimes in the evenings to watch something on Netflix). I even went to Tasha and Verity’s flat the other night when they decided to do a girls’ night, while all the boys went to hang out with Burnley and his PlayStation. So, I’m not avoiding them when I turn down lunch invitations – I’m just busy. And when I decline another dinner out, it’s more out of paranoia for my bank balance than because I don’t want to spend time with them.
When I sneak out at six in the morning, it’s only so I can get into the office early to catch up on work. I know the others have an intense workload, too, but I seem to have bitten off more than I can chew.
Maybe this is why they only take second- and third-year students for the internship? Maybe that extra year or two they’ve got on me gives them a wealth of experience that means they aren’t drowning in reports and spreadsheets and meetings like I am.
The morning is cool and pale; London is already wide awake, even if rush hour is still an hour or two off yet. I join a string of other commuters out of the Tube station at Victoria, feeling just like one of them in my blazer and sensible Marks & Spencer shoes.
Sometimes, on the rare nights out I went on at uni, it was a reminder of how young I felt. Surrounded by crowds of kids, all of them fresh-faced and barely out of school, with no inhibitions or responsibilities … Not like these people on their way to work. These peoplematter. They have important things to get on with, lots to do, complex lives to take care of. They don’t have to worry about mean flatmates or trying to fit in.
And now, I’m one of them.
The office is quiet, the receptionist and security guard chatting lazily over steaming mugs of tea. Hopefully, my team won’t be in yet and I can get a solidhour or two of quiet time to focus on the current bane of my life: this automated spreadsheet I ‘volunteered’ to create.
I swipe my pass, but when I go to step through the barriers, I collide straight with it.
I swipe again.
The usualblip!sound is more of aBWOOP, an aggressive indication of something wrong. Across the room, the security guard looks over with a frown, setting down his mug to make his way towards me. A red light flashes on the sensor and I clutch my pass, chest tightening. Is this it – my paranoid nightmare from my first day come to life? They know I’m not cut out for this, that I’m too young and too inexperienced and don’t even know how to create a pivot table, and –
A voice slices through the ringing in my ears, just as I’m about to start hyperventilating.
