Getting Even (22 page)

So when she first examined the revised schedule and noticed the pitch and the shoot had both been struck from beneath her name, she was a little disappointed. Nevertheless, her predominant reaction was relief. She desperately needed some headspace to think through what to do about Dan.

Orianna was preparing to concede it wasn't
that
bad of an idea to take on a bit less after all, when she decided to check who'd been allocated her work instead. She ran her finger down the schedule, found both projects, then traced across to see whose name they were under.

Cassie.

She went hot and cold; again had to steady herself.

If it's not bad enough they're having an affair, she thought, now Dan's giving Cassie my prized jobs! I can't believe he's that brazen. If the evidence wasn't right in front of me, I wouldn't have thought it possible. No; it's more than brazen—it's
callous.
If he can be so callous about that, who knows where he'll stop?

Try as she might to focus elsewhere, as she sat mulling over the schedule, she couldn't shake images of Dan and Cassie in bed together. He'd undress Cassie with the same relish he had her … With a shiver, Orianna recalled how he'd admired her Dolce & Gabbana skirt, but said he liked her naked best of all. She thought of Cassie—her neat, petite figure, naked; her bleached-blond hair disheveled by lovemaking, and recoiled. There was no doubt that Cassie was every inch the male fantasy—even more so than Lara—and it made Orianna feel horribly, hugely insecure.

I'm really fat in comparison—“cuddly” Dan calls me, and he's not the first. I bet Cassie's so confident that she merrily removes Dan's clothes herself …

She pictured Cassie playfully unbuttoning his shirt, trying to take it off, then realizing that the cuffs were still done up around the wrist and having to undo his watch to remove it …

Was that what happened—he'd left his watch at her place because they'd been so keen to get naked? Orianna had made love to Dan often enough, not to mention read a good many steamy novels, to know this was all too possible, and here was the revised schedule, compounding the evidence.

She had to escape from the office a moment, clear her thoughts. She checked the time—not yet her lunch hour.

To hell with it, she decided. I'm the boss, I've just fainted.

So she picked up her bag and headed for the elevator.

Once outside, she crossed the road and went into the public gardens in the center of Soho Square. Although it was only early September, the day was chilly, so the small park, normally a favorite with sightseers and shoppers, was relatively empty. Orianna found a free bench and sat down.

How could everything change so fast? Until that morning she'd believed Dan might well be The One.

She struggled to assimilate. I've had concerns, she thought. I was worried he's been flirting with Cassie, and that he'd fibbed about Lara, and there were those weird rumors of his bisexuality. But Dan's been so good to me; he's so kind and supportive, and we get along extremely well, I couldn't see how they were true. I believed he fancied me rotten—he always said he did—and I fancy him too, or I did … She shuddered again, picturing Cassie. Christ, she thought, I'd even been thinking we might settle down together, have children … How could I have been so naïve?

Now it seemed that Dan—indeed the whole world—was not as Orianna imagined it at all.

That she'd been hurt by men before and was sensitive to betrayal meant it didn't take much to undermine her trust. That she was such a romantic only made the gap between reality and her idealism greater. From such heights it was easy to fall, and when she fell, Orianna fell heavily. She could feel herself falling, slipping, losing control now; her happy ending destroyed long before she'd gotten there.

She looked up at the trees. The leaves were just beginning to turn, edged with brown, orange, and tawny gold. The flowers were past their best, the grass was tired and worn after months of tourists' trampling. Everything seemed to be declaring summer was over. Even the sky was gray, clouds poised on the verge of rain.

Softly, quietly, unnoticed, Orianna began to cry.

 

26. Lie with her? Lie on her?

Somehow Orianna got through the day at work. She was in too much of a state to think clearly about anything, let alone that it might be a good idea to go home. When she returned from Soho Square, she phoned Esme—not Dan—to say she'd like to retain the work she'd been originally allocated, thank you, and asked her to revert to the original schedule. Then she checked the concepts of a couple of junior teams, went through illustrations with Earl, and chivvied Clare for the brief on the pitch, reminding her that every hour she ran late reduced the time available for development of creative ideas. All the while she endeavored to be as diligent and chirpy as ever, but thoughts of Dan and Cassie were there beneath the surface, gnawing away at her like a slow-release poison. By the end of the afternoon she had nothing to do other than wait for Clare, and without anything to occupy her mind, the toxicity could permeate. At last Clare called.

“Shall I come up to you?” she suggested.

Orianna jolted herself back to professional mode. “If you wouldn't mind. I'll call Ivy.”

“I think we'll need Dan, too,” said Clare. Orianna's stomach lurched. “It's a complicated one, and I'd like him to be up to speed.”

“All right,” agreed Orianna reluctantly. What could she do? The last thing she wanted was to have Clare think she couldn't separate business and pleasure—Clare was on the board and Orianna had promised she'd be able to handle an agency relationship when her promotion had first been mooted. “I'll call him.”

Dan picked up his phone almost before it had rang. “Orianna?”

“Yes.”

“Are you OK?”

She wasn't going to lie. “No, I'm not. Though it'll have to keep till later—I don't want to talk about it now. I spoke to Esme. I'd like my work schedule left as it was. Clare's coming up to brief us on this Bellings Scott launch, and she wants you here.”

“In the meeting?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll be right there.”

Orianna suspected he was going to use the opportunity to snatch a second with her in private, but she couldn't face seeing him alone yet. Not only did she wish to avoid a confrontation in the agency, she feared she would force him to reveal truths so hurtful that she needed to prepare herself first. She asked, “Give it five minutes, will you?” Then she could ensure Ivy was present too, and be protected.

She replaced the receiver, hands shaking alarmingly. Still, she ought to phone Ivy.

“Fine—I've been ready for Clare since two,” said Ivy. Within an instant she was in Orianna's office.

Thank God for Ivy, thought Orianna, as her friend took a seat at the round table in the center of the room. At least I can trust
her.
She's known me for ages, seen me through other romantic disasters; she's exactly who I want by my side right now.

Sure enough, they seemed on the same wavelength, for Ivy said, “Are you alright, sweetie?” before Orianna could draw breath.

Orianna exhaled. “No, not really.”

“I thought not. You still look ever so pale.”

“Mm.”

“Anything I can do?”

Orianna shook her head as she pulled her chair up next to Ivy.

“Not at the moment—the others will be here any minute.” She smiled to show she was grateful.

Ivy only had time to squeeze her hand supportively before they were interrupted by Clare and Dan. Clare took a chair next to Orianna, Dan opposite.

“Sorry about the delay. I was waiting for some facts to come over from Bellings Scott,” said Clare.

She handed out copies of the brief, and launched straight into an explanation. But as she talked through the product background, Orianna found it increasingly hard to concentrate on the skin-softening properties of a new washing-up liquid. And as she saw Dan flick over to the second page of the document, all Clare's talk of palms and cuticles led her attention elsewhere. She'd noted months ago Dan's hands were especially attractive—they were so male; big and powerful, with neat, square-cut nails and strong, long fingers …

Those hands have stroked me, she thought. They've massaged my back and rubbed my feet when I've been tired, and touched me gently when we've made love. Those fingers have even made me come, for God's sake, only last night …

Yet now there was something hideous about them, cruel. Had those very same hands also touched Cassie? Had they massaged, rubbed, and stroked
her
? Helped her relax, then aroused her, brought her to the peak of ecstasy too? Orianna was completely repulsed by the thought, nonetheless she couldn't stop staring at Dan with macabre fascination. She watched him run his hands through his hair.

I always believed it indicated that he was apprehensive about something when he did that, she thought. But if Dan can sleep with someone else while coolly proclaiming his love for me, can I really read him? Do I understand him, truly know him at all?

“It's this hand conditioner,” Clare reached the last page, “that makes
Sparkle
such an amazing innovation. So, guys”—she turned first to Orianna and then Ivy—“it would be great if we could match this with some equally innovative creative work, just like you did for
That Sunshine Feeling
.”

“Sure,” said Ivy.

Help, thought Orianna. For several minutes she'd not listened to a word.

“I guess that wraps it up,” said Clare. “When would you like to show me something? How about Thursday?”

“It'd be good to have a work-in-progress before that,” said Dan.

Ivy decided for them. “Close of play Wednesday?”

The four of them got to their feet, and as Clare headed out of the door, Ivy said to Orianna, “I appreciate it's late—still, did you want us to start on this straight away?”

Dan broke in. “Er, before you two sit down, I'd like a word with Orianna in private.”

Ivy raised her eyebrows at Orianna as if to say, Shall I hang around?, but try as she might, Orianna failed to communicate that she did, and before she knew it the two of them were alone in her office.

“What's this all about?” Dan said directly.

“You tell me.”

“You seem ever so pissed off with me.”

“Is it surprising?”

“What?”

“That I'm pissed off with you? Frankly, I'd call that an understatement.”

“Well, er, yeah, I mean”—Dan scratched his scalp—“I know I might have stepped out of line a bit, what with it being work and all, but if you don't mind me saying, it seems you're getting things a little out of proportion.”

“Out of proportion!” That was downright insulting.

“Yeah. It's not a big deal, surely—my wanting you to slow down a bit?”

“Gee, thanks.” Orianna felt as if he'd punched her. Her instinct was to hit him back. Yet she was also acutely conscious they were surrounded by the glass panels of her office—walls that had eyes as well as ears. She took a deep breath. “Dan, we obviously feel completely different about this. But it's too complicated to go over right now. Can we talk about it tonight? Please?”

“I can't tonight.”

She gripped the table, patience stretched to the limit. “Why?”

“That's why I've been trying to talk to you all day.”

“What on earth are you doing tonight?”

“I've got a press pass.”

“When was that organized?”

“Yesterday.”

“Can't you cancel it?”

“You know I can't cancel a print run.”

She did know—the agency would miss a deadline and lose lots of money. “Do you have to go?”

“Well, um, yes, I do. The client's insisted.”

“Where is it?”

“Leicester.”

“Can't you come to me after?”

“The first running sheets aren't due till nearly midnight.”

“Oh.”

“So I won't be home till after two.”

“I see.”

“Can't we at least talk about this swiftly now?”

“Get it over with in five minutes?” Orianna shook her head, disbelieving.

“I just don't want it hanging over me all night.”

“So you'll give it five minutes? Is that what you think I'm worth? Jesus, thanks, Dan.”

“No, of course I don't think that's what you're worth. But, if this is about the watch, you know I didn't mean to lose it; I reckon you've got it all rather out of proportion—”

It was all Orianna could do to restrain herself from socking him. But out of the corner of her eye she could see the rest of the department; a flying fist would never go unnoticed. She took another deep breath. “You know what I've said about bringing our business into the agency and we're obviously getting nowhere now.”

“So when
are
we going to talk?”

Orianna was loath for it to keep, but for all her disillusion and upset, her job was very important to her; the more so in the face of losing the other main priority in her life. She simply couldn't afford to muck it up professionally too. “Tomorrow night.” No sooner had she said it than the thought of waiting a whole twenty-four hours seemed unbearable, so she added, “What time are you leaving?”

“Leicester's a good two and a half hours away. I need to leave by seven.”

Orianna checked her watch. It was approaching six. “I thought you said the run-outs weren't due till midnight?”

“They are. But I'm picking up Cassie on the way.”

“You
what
?”

“Yeah—she has to go home first. She has a doctor's appointment or something.”

Orianna was so shocked it took several seconds to gather herself. “Sorry, let me get this straight. You're taking
Cassie
?”