A Wild Affair (30 page)

“I do,” I said, reaching my arms around him. “I really do. We're a team, Max, and that's what matters. We're team W.”

“W?”

“Wainwright-Wild,” I grinned. “The wonderful ones.”

Now Max was grinning. “You're mad,” he said, shaking his head. “But I love you.”

“So you're okay with it? We can hold the Project Handbag launch at our wedding venue?”

“You seem to want to do it, and I wouldn't dream of standing in your way,” Max said warmly.

“Great! Better go. Lots to do.” I gave Max a quick kiss then raced to the door.

“Oh, Jess?” he called out.

I swung around. “Yes?”

“Can you get Caroline to stop over at Scene It?”

“Scene It?” I frowned uncomfortably at the mention of Hugh's firm. Even if I hadn't done anything as bad as I thought I had, it still left a bad taste in my mouth. “Why?”

“Chester wants us to pick up some paperwork from them. I'd ask one of the twenty or so employees jumping ship back to Milton to bring it with them, but Scene It is insisting on a current employee to collect it.”

“They're all coming back?” I started to smile.

“They're bringing a few of Scene It's own employees with them. I figured we could do with the extra hands now that the Glue deal is officially going through.”

“It is?” My face was now fully lit up.

Max nodded. “The respective boards decided to approve the deal this morning, no doubt following a little bit of arm twisting by Chester. That guy's unstoppable.”

“Better go and organize his launch then.” I grinned.

I decided not to send Caroline to Scene It—it seemed a waste to forgo the chance to exorcise my last visit to their offices and erase it from my memory for good. So instead, I made my excuses, leaving Caroline to meet with a harassed-looking Giles, and left to make the short journey around to Holborn.

“It's that building there,” I told the cabbie.

“One with the stupidly parked car in front of it?” I looked—sure
enough there was a shiny convertible parked about a foot from the curb.

“Clampers ought to take it away, parked like that,” the cabbie continued darkly.

“Maybe they will,” I reassured him, paying him and jumping out. I didn't care about badly parked cars. I did care about getting all the Jarvis account work from Scene It, though; I cared about walking into (and leaving) those offices with my head held high.

The same receptionist was at the desk. “Yes?”

I frowned. In my haste I realized I hadn't written down the name of the person I was supposed to be collecting the paperwork from. “Um, I'm here to pick up some stuff.”

“You a courier?” The receptionist looked at me blankly.

“No, not a courier,” I said. “I'm from Milton Advertising. I'm here to collect some paperwork.”

“Name?”

“Jessica Wild.”

The receptionist frowned. “No one under that name here.”

“Jessica Wild?” I spun around and reddened. It was Hugh Barter. My throat immediately went dry. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hugh,” I said tightly. “I thought you'd been fired. I'm just here to pick up the Jarvis paperwork.”

“Of course you are,” he said easily. “Actually I've got it here. I was just about to give it to Hilda here.” He shot the receptionist a big smile and she blushed. “So, how's it going, Jess?”

I stared directly at him. I wasn't afraid of him anymore. He was despicable, but more important, I'd won. Whatever the game was, he was the loser and Max and I were the victors and I was going to make sure he knew that.

“How's it going?” I took the bundle of papers from him. “Very well, since you ask. More than very well, actually. You'll have seen the ads that Chester took out, I suppose?”

“Yes I have. And I'm glad to hear things are going well for you. Well done. Good for you.”

“You're glad?” My eyes narrowed. “You lied to me. You tried to blackmail me. You did your best to ruin my relationship and my marriage and, on top of all of that, you slept with my mother. But you lost in the end, didn't you, Hugh. I'm glad you're taking it with such good grace.”

“I'm a selfless kind of a guy,” Hugh said lightly. “What can I say?”

“Selfless?” I stared at him in disbelief. “You made me think I slept with you. You nearly wrecked everything.”

He smiled laconically. “Jess, that was as hard for me as it was for you. It wasn't an image I enjoyed very much.”

I could feel my anger rising, but I forced myself to breathe. He wanted me to lose my temper; I wouldn't rise to his bait. And anyway, at least now I had the confirmation I needed. I didn't sleep with Hugh. I definitely didn't sleep with him. “Haven't you been fired? Chester said you'd been fired.”

“I have.” Hugh shrugged. “But truth is, I was getting a bit bored here anyway.”

“Bored?” I asked suspiciously.

Hugh nodded. “I want to set up on my own, do my own thing, know what I mean?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Whatever. Well, see you.”

“Wait, let me help you with those.” He tried to take the papers from me again but I pulled my arms away.

“Get away from me,” I said, my voice low. “I don't want you anywhere near me ever again.”

“At least let me get the door.” He held it open and I walked through it reluctantly; he followed right behind me. Then he took a key out of his pocket and I heard a bleeping sound. The brand-new Mercedes that had been parked so badly flashed to life.

“That's your car? I didn't know you had a car.”

He smiled. “I didn't. It's new. Fancy a spin?”

“I don't think so,” I said icily.

“Suit yourself.” He opened the door and got in. “Oh, and send my best to your mother when you see her. Tell her thanks. For everything.”

He pushed back his sleeves, revealing a new Cartier watch. I stared at him in disbelief. Had he been fired or paid off? What was going on?

“You leave my mother out of this,” I said. “You disgust me.”

He rolled his eyes. “That's your problem, Jessica Wild. You have no imagination and you're too uptight. You should learn from your mother, you know. Very attractive woman. Very attractive indeed. Great body, too, for someone her age. Not a line on it, not a crease, not an ounce of cellulite. Who knows, with a little effort on your part, you might look that good one day.”

I opened my mouth to speak, to offer a retort to his gloating, but it was pointless—he turned the ignition and the engine purred into life.

“Bye, Jess. Don't work too hard. I know I won't,” he shouted, then pulled away from the curb so quickly he nearly caused an accident before disappearing up the road.

I watched him—or the space in the road where he'd been—for a few minutes, indignation, irritation, and incomprehension consuming me. And then I turned around. It didn't matter, I realized. So he hadn't crumpled in a miserable heap on the floor—so what? Would it really have made me feel any better if he had? Steeling myself, and deciding not to answer that particular question, I took a deep breath.

I didn't care about Hugh Barter, I told myself firmly. And as I walked down the road, I realized to my surprise that it was true. I really didn't care. There were Hugh Barters everywhere—Anthony
was one, Marcia was one. They never learned anything, never felt the deep regret you wanted them to, never felt the shame you wished they'd glimpse for just a moment. But it didn't matter—
they
didn't matter. What mattered was the launch event I had only a few days to pull together. What mattered was that a few miles away, my lovely Max was waiting for me, along with Caroline and Giles, all doing their utmost to help, all wonderful people I was lucky to have in my life.

“Clerkenwell,” I told the cabbie who'd just stopped in front of me. “As quickly as you can.”

“SO IT'S PRETTY YELLOW, HUH?”

It was the night before the Project Handbag launch and Chester, Giles, Caroline, and I were just checking that everything was ready.

“Yellow is very now,” Giles said curtly. “Very now, very bright, very warm, very …”

“Very perfect,” Chester cut in.

“Oh. Thank you,” Giles said, sounding surprised, a look of relief flooding his face. “So you like it then? Really?”

“Really.” Chester grinned. “This is about making finance fun, right? Making it … what was that you said at the pitch meeting, Jessica? As desirable as a pair of shoes? Well, I'd say this whole room looks desirable.”

Giles glowed, as did Caroline. “You've done brilliantly,” I told them. “It's fabulous.”

“Thanks,” Giles gushed. “Just got to check a few things though. If you'll excuse us?”

I nodded and they disappeared; my eyes followed them proudly.

“They really have done the most amazing job.” I sighed. “It couldn't be more perfect.”

“You're right,” Chester said, winking. “But they don't deserve
all the credit. I know you were the one who got this all started. I gotta hand it to you, Jessica Wild. You are quite something.” He sighed. “Funny I used to think it ran in the family.”

I turned my head sharply. I'd managed to push my mother from my thoughts with varied success for days now. Every time I felt the urge to call her, I'd talked myself out of it; every time I found myself leaving to visit her old apartment in Maida Vale, I forced myself not to. She'd let me down; if I berated her for it, she'd only do it again. I was better off forgetting all about her; better off pretending I'd never met her in the first place.

“Maybe it does,” I said flatly. “I don't know my mother well enough to tell.”

Chester nodded. “Guess I took her away from you just when you were getting to know her. I'm sorry about that, Jess.”

“I think I got to know all I needed to,” I said levelly.

“You okay?” Chester asked, looking at me worriedly. “You look kind of strange.”

“Me?” My head shot up. “No, fine. Absolutely fine.” I was, too. There was no reason to feel anything other than fine. And even if there were, even if a niggling voice in the back of my head kept reminding me that I'd gone home with Hugh, that I'd planted the idea of Jarvis's takeover in his head, that wasn't important. It was Mum who'd told him everything. Mum who'd slept with a guy half her age. It was disgusting. Outrageous. And she was probably going to be fine without Chester. She probably wasn't even that into him.

Chester caught my eye and breathed out heavily. “Funny thing,” he said.

“My mother?”

He managed a half smile, then his face turned serious again. “No, the funny thing is that I really thought she was it,” he said. “The one. You know, I usually have an instinct for these things—it's the same in business. I know when something's going to work,
know when someone's for real. And your mother—she really seemed like she was. She told me—I mean, she actually told me—she was looking for something serious. Said she'd been looking for someone like me her whole life …” He trailed off and look wistfully into the distance, then shook himself. “Guess she knew how to spin a guy like me a line,” he said, attempting a grin. “Guess I should have known better.”

I nodded and cleared my throat awkwardly as Giles came over and pulled Chester away to look at something. Chester was right—my mother had probably just been spinning him a line all along. That was what she did best, wasn't it? And sure, it did look like she was really in love with him, but that wasn't my fault. I'd given her money, after all. I'd taken care of her. And she'd cashed the check, too—I'd seen it come up in my bank account just a couple of days before. No, my mother didn't need any sympathy. She was the one who'd slept with Hugh, after all.

An image of Hugh suddenly came into my head, all smug and pleased with himself when he should have been squirming with shame. God he was vile, telling me how attractive my mother was like that, as if I wanted to know, as if I wanted to picture the two of them …

I frowned slightly. What was it he'd said? “Her unlined body.” My frown deepened. It was nothing. I was sure it was nothing. But my mother didn't have an unlined body. She had that deep rivet down her stomach, her C-section scar.

Still, maybe he hadn't noticed it. Maybe it was dark when they …

I wrinkled my nose, trying to force the image of them in bed together from my head. Then I cleared my throat again. Even if it was dark, he wouldn't have missed it—her stomach, so slim, still managed to fold itself over the scar as though hiding it, as though protecting it. The only way he wouldn't have seen it would be if …

I shook my head. No, it was impossible. Why would he say he'd slept with her if he hadn't? Why would she say she'd slept with him if
she
hadn't? It was illogical. It was a stupid thing to even think.

And then my frown deepened. “His flat in Kensington.” She'd said she'd gone back to his apartment in Kensington. But he didn't live in Kensington. It had bothered me slightly at the time but hadn't seemed worth picking up on. Hugh lived in Kenning-ton, which was completely different. It was the other side of the river, near the Oval cricket ground. If she'd been there, she'd never have made such a mistake.

I shook myself again. She had been there. I knew she had. She and Hugh … They … They …