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I’m happy for him. I really am; plus, I’m proud. And because I hang back at my table, waiting for the others to congratulate him, I hear the tick tack of the high heels before they appear at the door, attached to one Jacqueline DuMaurier.
She is the head of operations at the Montreal headquarters and pops in whenever she’s in town.
There’s nothing about her that a person would dislike—stunningly attractive, well-dressed in a hot pink pencil skirt and cream-coloured blouse that would be splattered with the crumbs of three meals if I were to wear it, as well as the pink sharp heels that could damage, if not kill, a person wearing them.
Jacqueline is smart, somewhat funny, and nice. She asks about your day, and your family, and if you’re getting time for yourself.
Add in all of this and there’s no reason for me to clench so uncomfortably at the sight of her, so much that my jaw is already aching in response.
There’s no reason except for Ham’s reaction when he sees her at the door.
He smiles, a wide, blinding white smile that can mesmerize a person. He shrugs off my brother’s hand on his shoulder and takes three steps to the door where Jacqueline is posing.
“You told them,” Jacqueline says in her sexy, French accent. “I thought you were waiting until you got back.”
It takes a moment to comprehend what Jacqueline says because as she’s speaking, Ham is walking over to hug her.
He hugs her. It’s a good hug. From the smile on Jacqueline’s face, she enjoys it— and why wouldn’t she when it’s Ham hugging her?
My lungs seem to deflate as all the air rushes out. It physically hurts to see Ham holding another woman in his arms.
And then Jacqueline’s words sink in. “You told them. I thought—”
Did Jacqueline know about Ham getting the job? Did she know before me?
It’s apparent that she did.
I last saw Ham eleven hours ago, after spending most of the evening with him. It’s nine-thirty in the morning; therefore, I deduce that Ham knew about this last night when he was with me. Not only that, he also had enough time to talk to Jacqueline about it.
I need to get out of this room before I physically hurt him.
Not that I would; I could, though. I know seven different ways to kill a man with my bare hands. Again, not that I would; but there are many, many ways to cause pain that would be equal to what I’m feeling.
I gather my tablet, grab my coffee, throw a “Congrats” over my shoulder as Ham is still entwined with Jacqueline, and exit stage left.
It’s not my best move and, considering my long-time friendship with Ham, probably a crappy one, but it’s the only one I can manage.
Chapter Four
I tap my card on the keypad and step into the elevator. “Good morning, Charlotte Dodd.”
The elevators here in NIIA headquarters talk to you.
“Hey,” I mumble.
“I’m sorry, but I did not hear your response.”
I lean against the wall of the elevator with my eyes closed as the doors slide shut. “Good morning, Agatha,” I say clearly to AG413, the interface that operates at headquarters. She’s not a real person, but sometimes it’s hard to remember that.
Right now, it’s good to have a computer to talk to. “Agatha, when did Jacqueline Du Maurier arrive?”
“She arrived at zero nine fifteen,” Agatha reports. “Here to personally congratulate Ham before he leaves this morning.”
Ham was already in the briefing when she arrived, so they must have spoken about him taking over yesterday. Before he was with me. Or after I dropped him off.
My eyes prick with the stab of tears, and I blink quickly, glad Agatha doesn’t have the gift of sight.
I don’t know why this bothers me, but it does. It hurts knowing Ham told someone before me. It hurts more than it should.
