Heller's Revenge (11 page)

I didn’t stay late with the
guys, well aware that Heller and I had our first face-to-face
meeting with Clarence Cockburn the next day. And I wanted to ensure
that I gave myself plenty of time to prepare, not ready to face
another dressing down from Heller for being unprofessional.

I had a good sleep and in the
morning chose a short dark green skirt suit with a soft white
blouse. I left the top three buttons undone, reminding myself that
a glimpse of cleavage had never yet dissuaded a male client from
signing on the dot for Heller’s exorbitant fees. I swept my hair up
into a loose chignon, carefully arranging a handful of trailing
curls around my neck. I was slightly heavy-handed when applying my
makeup. Nothing slutty, mind you – just a little more eye shadow,
mascara and lipstick than normal. I wanted to impress Mr
Cockburn.

When I joined him in the office,
Heller raised his eyebrows at my appearance, making me wonder if
I’d gone too far. But as he didn’t comment, I didn’t ask. He was
stylishly elegant as usual, dressed in complementary colours to me,
wearing a black suit and dark green shirt.

Clarence Cockburn was staying in
the newer of the city’s two six-star hotels, which had only opened
a month previously. Heller announced our arrival at the reception
desk where a very polite staff member deferentially rang Mr
Cockburn’s room to confirm that we were indeed expected. We were
instructed to proceed to the top floor of the hotel, to the
executive suite. I took the opportunity to look around the hotel as
we walked to the lifts. It was starkly modernistic in style, in
complete contrast to the city’s opulent and luxurious other
six-star hotel. And in comparison to the French antiques and
baroque oil paintings of its rival, this hotel was furbished in
sleek modern European furniture and sparse, puzzling contemporary
artwork.

Heller knocked firmly on the
executive suite’s door and we were both surprised when Mr Cockburn
opened the door himself. We usually had to run a gamut of assorted
lackeys before we met any of our powerful and rich clients. He
seemed stunned to see us, as if we were virtual characters in his
game suddenly brought to life in the flesh. His eyes flicked
excitedly between us both. I should say between the three of us
actually, because my boobs received their fair share of eye time as
well.

He was shorter and weedier than
I’d expected. He had pale blond floppy hair and a wispy moustache
and goatee that looked as though they had taken several years to
sprout. With his over-eager, round dark blue eyes and an angry
clutch of pimples on each cheek, you would have sworn that he had
only just reached pubescence, even though he was supposed to be
thirty-six. His was the kind of face that showed every emotion. He
would be a big hit at the
Heller’s
poker table, and no doubt
would be fleeced of his billions in minutes – probably by Niq. His
clothes came straight from the teenager’s department, and he was
wearing black and red Converse sneakers, some ridiculously baggy
jeans that were hanging off his butt and a t-shirt featuring Kermit
the Frog. What he definitely did not look like was a wealthy,
successful and presumably shrewd billionaire businessman.

“Mr Heller! Welcome! How nice to
meet you. Come in, come in,” Mr Cockburn gushed, his voice slightly
high and tinged with a Californian accent. He shook our hands
enthusiastically and I was deemed special enough to even receive a
squeeze – of my hand that was. Although judging by his expression,
he would have preferred to be squeezing another part of my body,
given half the chance.

He ushered us into his
ultramodern, deluxe, temporary accommodation. Some people take over
a hotel room, draping and throwing their belongings about with
abandon, but he didn’t appear to have made any impact on his
surroundings at all. There was nothing that looked as though it
didn’t belong to the hotel, except for an expensive laptop set up
on a table near the window.

Mr Cockburn fussed around us,
offering us five different kinds of beverage before accepting that
we really weren’t thirsty, thanks very much anyway. Heller and I
sat on a velvety lounge together while he sat opposite, perched on
the edge of his chair, eyes wide with excitement.

“Mr Heller, Alston Paul had such
praise for you and your team that I didn’t even consider any other
firm. I just know that you will provide me with the services I
require.” A meaningful glance in my direction.

“Thank you, Mr Cockburn. That’s
very flattering. I’m hoping today to scope out your requirements
precisely, so that we can make the best arrangements for you during
your stay,” Heller replied smoothly in his delectable accent.

Mr Cockburn’s face lit up with
delight. “You pronounced my name correctly!” As if Heller would go
to a meeting with a wealthy new client without doing some basic
research. “You have no idea how many people give it its phonetic
pronunciation instead of its real pronunciation of ‘Co-burn’,” he
explained. “It’s an old English name, you see.”

We both nodded wisely.

“But you must call me Clarrie,
please. I insist.” We both nodded again. “And I’m sorry, Mr Heller,
but
who
is your very charming companion?” His eyes were
goggling at my cleavage again and while I’m told that I do have
nice boobs and have grown resigned to men gawping at them, he was
being uncomfortably blatant about it.

Heller showed no mercy. “This is
my lovely employee, Matilda.”

“Hello Matilda. I’m
very
pleased to meet you.”

“Please, call me Tilly, Mr
Cockburn.” I shot a dirty glance at Heller. “I dislike
Matilda.”

“Well, thank you, Tilly!” I felt
as though I’d just given him permission to sire my first-born. “But
only if you promise to call me Clarrie.”

I smiled at him. “My pleasure,
Clarrie.”

“Well, as I explained to your
office manager by email last week . . .” A momentary pause for
another glance at my boobs. “I want some security while I’m here,
but definitely nothing obvious. I don’t want people to think that
I’m afraid of anything.”

“Of course not,” Heller assured.
“So perhaps one staff member with you at all times, twenty-four
hours a day. Would that be sufficient?”

“Yes, that would be just what
I’m after. But not anyone who looks like a security officer. Or
anyone too masculine.” A resentful look at Heller. “I don’t want to
be overshadowed. This is an important award for me. It’s the first
time I’ve been formally acknowledged for my achievements in my home
country.”

“Mr Cockburn, is there any
reason in particular that makes you believe people will think
you’re afraid of something if you hire some security?” prodded
Heller gently.

“No,” Clarrie shot out quickly.
“I’m merely after a companion for the time I’m back here in town. I
grew up here, you know. A great place. It’s just that . . .”

We waited for a long moment.

“Just what, Clarrie,” I
prompted.

He sighed. “There are some
jealous people who were at university with me. They think I owe
them for my creation.” He shrugged. “They might want to make a
scene, but probably not. That’s why I only want a security
presence
, not a full-on security team. Do you
understand?”

“Understood.” I could almost
hear Heller’s mind running through the possibilities. He does tend
to hire the bigger, more masculine types of security officers with
muscles on their muscles, and I could see he was struggling to
think of a suitable staff member. But then suddenly he smiled with
satisfaction and I felt my heart sink.

“My recommendation would be for
Matilda to act as your main security companion during your stay.
She has full security and self-defence training and is an
experienced security officer. She certainly wouldn’t overshadow
you, and I’m sure you’d agree that she is most definitely not too
masculine.” Clarrie shook his head ardently and swallowed noisily.
“You have the option of having Matilda with you during the day and
another staff member on duty all night, or if you prefer, she could
be on call twenty-four hours a day, and even stay here in your
suite with you.”

Clarrie’s eyes lit up with the
possibilities. I squirmed unhappily on the lounge, not thrilled
about this development, about to open my mouth to protest. Heller
discreetly ground the heel of his shoe down on my toes until I was
biting my bottom lip with pain. I stopped squirming and kept my
mouth shut.

“Thank you, Mr Heller. Having
Tilly stay here with me would be a very . . . adequate plan.”
Clarrie then treated himself to an embarrassingly lingering perv at
my boobs that left all of us feeling uncomfortable. He mustered the
willpower to drag his eyes away, back to Heller. “She will be
perfect for me.”

“Excellent. She’ll need to make
some arrangements, but will be back here later this afternoon. Does
that suit you?”

“Perfectly. I’m planning on
working here in my room for the rest of the day and won’t be
venturing out. I’m really looking forward to seeing you again this
afternoon, Tilly.” And the look he gave me made him seem much less
young and innocent than before.

We shook hands, made our
farewells and left him standing at the door watching us. We settled
ourselves into Heller’s Mercedes and as soon as we shut the doors,
I started. I ranted for a solid ten minutes about how depraved
Heller was to be sending me into that lion’s den, didn’t he know
that I am not an object to be traded to the highest bidder, what
exactly did he think Clarrie was expecting as part of the
‘service’, hadn’t he noticed that Clarrie kept staring at my boobs
all the time, and didn’t he promise me that he would protect me
from perverts?

Heller kept his eyes firmly on
the road the entire tirade. Once I had exhausted my indignation, he
turned to me.

“You will do this for me,
Matilda. I insist,” he said coldly.

“Heller!”

“He’s a very important client
for me. If he recommends me to others, as Alston Paul recommended
me to him, it will mean more top-end business for me. And
that’s
important for all of us. I’m trying to build a
business, Matilda. You are my employee and will do this job, and
you will do it in a gracious way. Understood?”

I didn’t answer him, but slumped
in my seat, arms crossed, sulking the rest of the way home. This
was the part I hated about working for him.

Chapter 7

I packed in a hurry, pulling out
all my least suggestive clothes from my cupboards and shoving them
roughly and angrily into my suitcase. Niq sat on the edge of my
bed, watching my frantic packing activities with unhappiness.

“Two whole weeks?” he
complained. “That’s too long. I’m going to say something to
Heller.”

“Good luck with that!” I spat
out viciously. “He’s the one making me do it.”

“It’s not fair!”

“I know.” I stopped and looked
up. He really did look miserable. “Oh, honey. It’ll be okay. It’ll
go quickly. I’ll have my mobile and I’ll take my laptop and check
my email and Facebook every day. But make sure you contact me. I’ll
be going insane otherwise.”

He nodded despondently.

“Hey, how about you and Daniel
plan a wonderful ‘Welcome Home Tilly’ meal for me? You have two
weeks to plan for it. How does that sound?”

He nodded again reluctantly.

“And when I come home, we’ll go
out shopping, just you and me. We’ll buy everything we want and
we’ll put it all on Heller’s credit card. Okay?”

He gave me a small smile. He
loved shopping and spending Heller’s money.

“God, I’m going to miss you!” I
hugged him tightly, until he protested about me crushing his ribs.
Someone knocked on my front door. Niq went to open it and let
Heller in, glaring at him with unforgiving eyes.

“Niq, don’t start with me,”
Heller warned in the sternest voice I’d ever heard him use on the
little teenager. “Matilda has work to do. You might not like it,
but that’s her job.”

“You don’t have to send her
away. I never see her anymore, anyway,” Niq accused sullenly.

“Niq.” Another warning.

“
I hate you, Heller!
” And
Niq flew out of my flat, slamming the door behind him.

Heller turned to stare at me in
bewilderment. “He’s never said that to me before.”

“Well, don’t blame me and don’t
look at me like that. I’ve been trying to cheer him up for the last
half an hour.”

He sighed. “I’m very unpopular
at the moment. I don’t think Daniel is speaking to me because of
this and now Niq probably isn’t as well.”

“I don’t feel like speaking to
you either. So don’t come to me for sympathy.”

“It’s just an assignment. Why is
everyone so angry about it?”

I stared at him in disbelief.
“You’re sending me away for
two weeks
, that’s why! At least
you could have let me come home at night. Daniel and Niq are going
to miss me terribly and it’s going to be exhausting being on call
for that long. You’re cruel.” I shoved my makeup into my
suitcase.

“You still don’t know how to
pack properly,” he commented with a slight smile, trying to reach
out. I glared at him fiercely and continued to throw things in my
suitcase in an angry careless manner.

He gave up. “Ready to
leave?”

More glaring from me. He threw
his hands up in despair and went to pick up my suitcase for me. But
I was in such a shitty mood that I grabbed it first (with another
glare) and proceeded to lug it down the four flights to the garage
myself. About halfway down though, I wished that I hadn’t been so
impetuous because it was frigging heavy. I decided that I’d leave
it for him to carry up to the hotel suite when we arrived. I sat in
stony silence the entire trip to the hotel, arms crossed and
staring straight ahead, ignoring his repeated attempts to engage me
in conversation.