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Jacinta pressed the speakerphone button. “Henry, Malcolm is here.”
Malcolm ignored the phone and leaned over the front of her desk. “Have you seen this morning’s press? Share price is down ten points. Executive meeting in an hour.”
“Malcolm, the board will want a full report ASAP this morning,” said Henry.
“Of course,” he said.
In the open doorway, her corporate affairs director, Emelia Gianopolis, mouthed the name of a finance commentator Jacinta had no desire to talk to and no way to say no to. She nodded to Em, gave her a five minute signal and refocused on Malcolm. Mel came in and refilled her coffee. Henry was talking about the reaction of industry analysts.
She covered a smile with her hand. Malcolm wouldn’t have cared if she’d been hooked up to a respirator all weekend and was trailing an IV drip tree. She was hopelessly behind on the information she needed, in a deep hole with the board, and would need to cancel a speaking engagement that’d already been rescheduled twice to accommodate her calendar. There’d be a hundred people in a ballroom who’d paid to eat roast chicken and hear her talk about the future of electronic banking. The chicken would be rubbery and they’d have to make do with Tom. Tom would be flexible and furious with her.
Malcolm spied Em and chewed her out over headlines he didn’t like. Jacinta sent a text to Tom about filling for her and promised Henry his report. Mel put a pitcher of iced tea on her desk. She looked at her watch. She’d been in the office exactly twenty minutes. Not long enough to take control. Not long enough to forget the feel of Mace’s lips on her neck, but long enough to know she was exactly where she wanted to be
.
It was after four when Tom strolled in. She couldn’t very well put him off, though she had another media interview in fifteen minutes. “Sorry.”
“Good Lord. You owe me. You know how much I hate doing those things.”
“Was it terribly embarrassing?”
“On a scale of one to ten, with one being that deep suspicion you get if Dad says something complimentary, and ten being how migraine-inducing having to socialise with him is, I’d call this a thirty-two.”
“Oh Tom.”
“They paid to see you, the chief operating officer, not me, the mailroom boy.”
“I thought we’d promoted you out of the mailroom.”
“I didn’t get that memo.”
Tom sat, he crossed his legs and settled in. “Where the hell were you yesterday? I thought you were probably dead.”
She didn’t want to encourage him so she kept her eyes on her screen. “Thanks for checking I wasn’t. I had a day off if that’s all right with you.”
“I don’t care if you went nude skydiving, but Dad was... Christ, if it weren’t for your apartment being in the lockdown zone he’d have sent the army in to get you out of bed.”
“I wasn’t in bed.” All of the time.
“Good a place as any. Hang about, you’re blushing. What were you doing?”
She sighed and looked over the top of her screen at him. “People died outside the apartment, Tom.”
“Right. I didn’t think about that. Awful, wasn’t it. Shocking bit of business. What a horror show that man, Kincaid, was. Mental case. Are you trying to tell me you were incapacitated by fear?”
“Tom.”
“No, I didn’t think so. So what were you doing?”
“Reflecting, taking five, letting the dust settle.”
He straightened the cuffs of his shirtsleeve. “You were having a big sulk, weren’t you?”
Em appeared in the doorway. Jacinta waved her in. “Tom was just going. I have an interview to do.”
Tom stood. He smiled at Em, but the smile was fixed on her chest.
Em ignored it. Not all the women did, but she was married with a toddler and she was a professional. Unlike Jacinta had been Friday night. Oh God. There was less than nothing separating her from Tom. She’d been as predatory as Tom was with just about any woman under fifty with knees. More, because she did sleep with Mace.
