Love and Liability (Dating Mr Darcy - Book 2) (23 page)

She pressed her lips together in a grim line. There was only one other person devious — and spiteful — enough to do this to her.

Sasha
.

Almost as if her thoughts had summoned her, her boss strode in and paused by the door. “Ah, there you are, Holly. Valery just told me the news. I’m sorry.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re heartbroken.”

“I don’t take joy from anyone getting the sack. But honestly, Holly, I did warn you,” she reminded her. “Details are
so
very important, after all. Unfortunately, that’s something you’ve never properly learnt—”

“You did this.” Holly surged to her feet. “You had someone take that picture of Zoe, and you swapped it in at the last minute, somehow. Just like you did with Alex’s off-the-record comment. You’ve always had it in for me.”

“That’s nonsense. You’re not only unprofessional, you’re paranoid.”

“And to think I felt sorry for you,” Holly forged on, “you despicable, back-stabbing, Machiavellian
cow
—”

Sasha raised a brow. “Name calling is very unprofessional, Holly. And so is throwing around accusations when you have no proof to back them up.”

“This is payback, isn’t it?” Holly said suddenly. “You’re furious with me because I told Valery about your sister. I didn’t keep your confidence. So you struck back in the only way you knew how — by getting me sacked.”

“It’s true you had no business telling Valery about my situation,” Sasha agreed coldly, “but why on earth would I do such a petty, vindictive thing? And how would I have managed it? You give me far too much credit.”

“Easy enough — you or Kate swapped out Will’s photo and replaced it on the memory stick before it went to Valery.” Holly swallowed past the thick bile of anger in her throat. “How could you do this? Why do you hate me so much? To think I actually spoke
up
for you the other day, when Valery was ready to sack you,” she added, and shook her head in disgust. “I shouldn’t have bothered.”

Sasha raised one perfectly arched brow. “That’s ludicrous. Valery would never sack me.”

“She would. She as much as told me so.”

“Really? I don’t believe you. She’d never discuss something like that with you,” Sasha scoffed. Her eyes narrowed. “The fact is, you didn’t tell Valery about my personal situation to save my job. You did it to make sure I’d
lose
my job.”

“Well, if what you say is true, then I failed, didn’t I?” Holly flung back. “Because
I’m
the one getting sacked, not you! I’m the one who’s…who’s…” she stopped, and began, to her eternal chagrin, to cry; and not just a few tears, either.

No, these were great wracking sobs that made her face go red and puffy and set her nose running.

Sasha said nothing, but the harsh lines of her face eased slightly, and uncertainty flickered in her eyes. She reached over and grabbed a tissue box from Valery’s desk and thrust it at Holly.

“To think I f-felt s-sorry for you,” Holly sobbed, yanking a tissue from the box and blowing her nose, “dealing with your s-sister and juggling your schedule, with no one to h-help you. Then Valery started t-talking about p-personnel reorganization, and said I’d be taking on some of your r-responsibilities, and I thought—”

“You thought she meant to sack me.”

Holly nodded and blew her nose again.

Sasha crossed her arms loosely against her chest. “You got it wrong, Holly, as usual. Valery
is
getting rid of me, in a manner of speaking — she’s promoting me to another department, where the hours are a bit more reasonable.” She paused. “She wanted to offer my position to you, but I told her you weren’t ready. You’re not,” she said sharply as Holly looked up, outraged. “One day, perhaps. But not yet.”

“Well, we’ll never know now, will we?” Holly accused her. “You’ve seen to that.”

Sasha said nothing.  

“I know Will didn’t take that photo of Zoe.” Holly’s voice was calm but steely. “Just like I know you were behind this. You sabotaged me. But sooner or later, I’ll prove it, and I’ll get my job back — and I’ll see
you
sacked.”

“Good luck with that.” Sasha pressed her lips together. “Whether you believe me or not, Holly, I’m truly sorry. You showed a lot of promise in your short time here at
BritTEEN
. Now—” she turned towards the door “—I’ll escort you out of the office. We’ll send your things along after you later.”

“Don’t bother. And there’s no need to escort me out of the office. I’m quite capable of finding my own way.”

“Rules, Holly. They exist to create order from chaos.”

Sasha preceded Holly out of the office and led her back to the lobby. At the double glass doors she paused.

“Goodbye, Holly. You may not believe it, but…I really do wish you the best.”

Holly snorted. “I’d say it’s been a pleasure working with you, Sasha, but…” she ignored the hand her ex-boss held out to her “…I don’t like to lie. Goodbye.”

And with that, Holly turned on her heel, thrust open the door, and left the
BritTEEN
offices for the very last time.

“I’m that sorry, Holly,” Frank said, his face stricken as Holly handed over her security badge on the way out. “I just heard the news. I’ll miss you, lass.”

Holly gave him a wobbly smile and a hug. “Thanks, Frank. I’ll miss you, too.” And for the second time that day, she felt the sting of tears. “I’ll…see you around.”

“You’ll be back, ducks,” he told her confidently. “Mark my words.”

Well
, Holly told herself disconsolately as she crossed the lobby and pushed her way through the revolving doors,
at least now I’ll have plenty of time to focus on writing
.
For every cloud there’s a silver lining; the glass is half full, not half empty; if you’re handed lemons, make lemonade…
Those were the clichés, anyway.

Holly scowled. Clichés were a fat load of bollocks, in her opinion. She paused on the top step as her eyes scanned the street.

She had one more thing to do before she left.

“Zoe!” she called out as she spotted the girl across the street. She half expected Zoe to turn away, but she didn’t. “Have you seen it?” Holly asked guardedly.

“The interview? Yeah,” Zoe said, “I’ve seen it.” She took a last drag on her cigarette and threw the butt aside.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how that picture got published. It wasn’t the one I submitted.”

Zoe looked at her with contempt. “It’s simple,” she said, “innit?” She ground the butt under one heel. “Someone took a long-range photo and slapped it in, never mind that I told you I didn’t want my face shown. And now, thanks to you, a very nasty bloke named Erik knows all about me. He’s why I ran away, Holly.” Her eyes glittered with animosity. “I should’ve known not to trust you or that bloody photographer.”

“You know we’d never do something like that! I promised you I wouldn’t use your picture, and I swear to you, I didn’t—”

“Well, someone did,” Zoe said evenly, “didn’t they? Doesn’t matter who; the result’s the same. You lied to me, Holly James. And I won’t forget that.”

“I’ve been sacked over this, Zoe. I’ve lost my job.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” Zoe said as she adjusted the straps of her rucksack. “But it’s worked out a treat for me, ’cause I’ve been offered a job helping Kate.” She shrugged. “Looks like I’m in, and you’re out.”

“Don’t you see what they’re doing?” Holly demanded. “They’re giving you a job so you won’t sue the magazine! Valery never pays interns—”

“Well, that’s just it,” Zoe said. “I’m to be an exception. I’ll be helping Kate, and I’m to be paid. And Kate,” she added as she turned away, “will have your old job. Starting tomorrow.” She turned away. “Ta.”

Holly stared after her. So Kate was to have her job.
Well, no good deed goes unpunished
. She’d saved Sasha’s job and tried to help Zoe, and look where it had landed her. Now she was unemployed, Kate had her job, and her moment of triumph — the publication of her article — had gone horribly pear-shaped.

And it was all Sasha Davis’s fault.

Well, Holly consoled herself, at least she had the reception job to see her through until she found another full-time position.

Her mobile rang. She scrabbled through her handbag and dug out her phone. Perhaps Valery had reconsidered? “Hello?”

“Miss James? Grace from Ms Winter’s office here.”

“Oh, hello, Grace,” Holly said. “Did you want me to come in tonight? I’m free, as it happens—”

“No, Miss James, quite the opposite,” Grace said crisply. “I’m sorry, but your services won’t be required any longer.”

Holly held out the phone and stared at it. “What? Not required? But I just started on Wednesday—”

“And four hours was quite enough. You cut off every incoming call during your time on the switchboard, Miss James. Ms Winter’s clients were quite upset, believe me.”

She blinked. “So, you’re telling me I’m—”

“Sacked, Miss James. I’m very sorry. We’ll mail you your first — and your
last
— cheque. Have a lovely day.”

Numbly, Holly dropped her phone back into her handbag and descended the steps. To be sacked twice in one day must be some kind of bloody record. Tears blurred her vision as she turned and headed for the tube station.

She’d go back to the flat and pack a few things before Kate got home, and figure out what to do next. There had to be a way to prove that Sasha — and possibly Kate — was behind this. As she descended the underground stairs and touched her Oyster card to the reader, Holly knew only that she had to get away, out of London.

She’d go home, she decided, to Oxfordshire. Today.

“Excuse me. Have you seen this girl?”

Sharon looked up from her second cigarette of the day. As she took in the sight of the well-dressed bloke coming towards her, photo in hand, her eyes narrowed.
Crikey, he was fit
.

She reached out to take the picture. “Let’s have a look.”

He held it out of reach. “Sorry, it’s the only picture I’ve got. My sister’s gone missing, and I need to find her.”

Sharon leaned forward to study the picture and exhaled a plume of smoke. “What happened to her?”

The girl in the photo had long, brown-gold hair and grey eyes, and she wore a school uniform — navy plaid skirt, white shirt, tie. She looked nothing like this bloke with the blond hair and the cold blue eyes.

In fact, Sharon realized suddenly, the girl looked familiar. If she had dark, choppy hair instead of that golden brown shade, and a couple of nose studs, she’d look remarkably like…Zoe.

“She ran away.” He offered no further information.

“You think she’s somewhere hereabouts, then?”

“Possibly. Have you seen her?” His eyes were keen on hers.

Sharon opened her mouth to say yes, of course, it was Zoe; but something stopped her. “No,” she said, and turned away to take another drag off her cigarette. “No, I haven’t. Sorry.”

“You’re sure about that?”

She tipped ash off the end of the cigarette and shrugged. “I told you—I haven’t seen her. I can’t help you.”

He stared at her, his eyes narrowed as if to challenge her; but, “Thanks,” he murmured. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”

And it was then that Sharon began, for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom, to be afraid.

Chapter 34

It was just past seven that evening when Holly let herself in to her parents’ country house. The dogs greeted her joyfully, toenails skittering against the age-darkened floorboards as they surrounded her, jumping and barking and knocking the kilim rugs askew.

“Who’s there?” Mrs Henley called out suspiciously as she emerged from behind the panelled door that led to the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

“It’s only me, Mrs H.”

“Fair gave me a start, you did,” she grumbled. “I should’ve left already, but I had a bit of washing up to finish, didn’t want to leave it. Would you like something to eat before I go? Cheese toast, or a cup of tea?”

Holly shook her head. “No, thanks, I had something on the way down. I’m not hungry.”

“Well, there’s plenty to eat in the kitchen if you get peckish later.”

“Where’s Hannah? Is she still here?” Holly asked as she deposited her rucksack by the door.

“No, that boyfriend of hers picked ’er up yesterday and drove ’er back to Norwich. She had a class to take. ‘Mixed media,’ I think she called it, or sommat like that.”

“Right.” Holly suppressed a yawn. “Thanks, Mrs H.”

“Your parents won’t be coming down this weekend — and of course, your mum tells me this
after
I did the weekly shop — so it’s good you’re here. You can eat up some of that food. I made Lancashire hotpot; it only needs reheating. Now, if there’s nothing else—”

“No, nothing. Don’t let me keep you. And thanks.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Mrs Henley murmured, and turned to go. “I’m off. I’ll see you Monday if you’re still here. Oh — and the dogs are in for the night. Just be sure you let ’em out again in the morning. Goodnight, pet.”

“I will. Goodnight, Mrs H.” Holly locked the door after her, then trudged up the stairs to her room.

In less than ten minutes, she was asleep.

On Friday morning Jamie slapped a copy of the latest issue of
BritTEEN
magazine and five quid on the newsstand counter. “And a pack of Polos, too, mate,” he told the spot-faced clerk.

Wordlessly, the clerk complied. He wasn’t accustomed to such cheeriness this early in the day.

Jamie pocketed his change and turned away. He’d made a special point to stop in at the newsagent’s on his way to work. He’d already shopped the market stalls and made his purchases for the day — a crate of pollock straight off the boat, and several large bunches of tarragon and parsley — and there’d be no time to buy the magazine later. And he was really keen to read Holly’s article.

He arrived at Gordon Scots to find that one of the walk-ins wasn’t cooling properly, two of the evening’s four-tops had cancelled, and his best waiter, Sergei, had called in sick — hung over on vodka, most likely — so Jamie didn’t get a chance to open the magazine until late that afternoon.

He was impressed with Holly’s article. It was an excellent piece of writing and a topic that deserved attention. He picked up his mobile to call and congratulate her on a job well done.