My Naughty Little Secret (16 page)

The drive to St Alban’s seemed to fly past as I was totally lost in my thoughts. The driver made several attempts at small talk as only a London cabbie can, but I just wasn’t interested and cut him off with a curt reply every time. When we got there, he had to point out we had stopped, I was that lost in my thoughts. I opened my purse to pay, but he told me it was charged to Banbury’s account and he insisted that a tip was included. James was good like that; he looked after his employees very well. I’d miss it when I went back to Lynham’s. The thing was, I loved my job, really loved it. It totally pissed me off to have to leave it over a man. How stupid was I? But I realised that if Michael did end up as the MD, my position would become untenable. There was really no choice. Anyway, they could end up hiring some twat as the new personnel manager and, after working with someone as fantastic as Myra, that would be hard to take, especially in the same job. I wondered if Myra knew Michael was James’ successor yet, but I honestly doubted she did.

The front door opened as I climbed out of the taxi and James was there, waiting for me, as if he wanted to be sure I didn’t do a runner. The taxi turned and drove off and I caught a fleeting glimpse of a red car parked round the corner. My suspicions were alerted, but I couldn’t go round to take a look as James ushered me through the door, introducing me to a stylish, very affable lady in her mid-fifties.

“This is my wife, Catherine,” James introduced.

“It’s so good to meet you at last, my dear, I’ve heard so much about you,” she said, taking my hand warmly in hers and kissing my cheek. I was quite stunned by the warmth of her greeting. It was much more effusive than the occasion warranted, I thought, and certainly not what I would have expected from an upper-middle-class English woman. That was more like an Irish greeting. I felt myself blush and try to return the compliment, but actually I had barely known she existed so I was quite flummoxed.

“You’re embarrassing her now, dear,” James chastised. “Would you like tea or coffee, before we get down to business?”

“Coffee, please.”

He led me into a well-appointed living room filled with soft plush furnishings and expensive wooden tables and sideboards. A large French window opened onto the lawn and the autumn sun filled the room with a rich warm glow. It was a room that had been decorated with taste and love and was filled with a combination of beauty and comfort. I wanted to walk around and admire the paintings, but I thought it would be too forward so I just took a seat on one of the opulent sofas.

“I’ll just give Catherine a hand. I’ll be back in a moment; make yourself at home, my dear,” James offered as he left the room.

I got up to investigate the paintings and photos and I spotted it. In an elaborate Waterford crystal photo frame there was a man receiving his degree in cape and mortarboard. And by his side were the proud father and some woman I didn’t recognise. Lydia, his mother, I assumed. I wanted to vomit with the shock. I was reeling and I felt the blood rush from my face as I became faint and dizzy. Before I knew it there was an arm around me, leading me to the sofa again. Michael. Michael Henrii, also formerly known as Michael Banbury, apparently. Jesus, was there no end to the deception? I couldn’t even speak. I wanted to scream, to hit him, to throw things, to generally make my hysteria understood, but my body wouldn’t respond. It was like a temporary paralysis. My tongue was stuck in my head. Loss of words was a most unusual event for me. If my parents had seen it, they wouldn’t have believed it. I could hear him talking, asking was I ok, but I couldn’t answer. Then he shouted.

“Dad, can you get me a glass of water, quickly please.”

James came running in with the drink and looked at me. He went over to the sideboard, poured a shot of brandy instead, and handed it to me.

“Take a sip, my dear,” he said gently, guiding my hand with the glass up to my lips. I took a couple of mouthfuls, the fire of the liquid helping to jolt me back to reality. I could hear him hissing angrily at Michael.

“You’d better tell me exactly what has been going on; if I’d known how upset she was going to be, there is no way I would have agreed to let you be here. I warned you when I first found out to tell her the truth. Now look at the mess you’ve made of it all.”

Michael didn’t reply, just sat at my feet waiting for me to come round a bit. It was all starting to sink in. Feck, of course. Jesus, I was even more stupid than I first thought. Every time I mentioned James, Michael closed up. Same if I asked about his dad. He never had a problem talking about his mother or his boss in France. I should have made the connection ages ago, but I was too caught up in our romance to want to face up to reality. If I was on the outside looking in, I would have been disgusted at my blind crush on a man, refusing to see the signs that had all been lit up in neon. And no wonder James had been so kind on Wednesday. He knew. And Catherine knew—that’s why her welcome was so overly familiar. It seemed like I was the only one who didn’t. My tongue was finally starting to loosen again.

“So I take it I’ve just met your father and your stepmother then,” I said caustically. “Sorry, James, no offence meant, but I’m sure you can imagine this is all quite a bolt from the blue.”

“None taken, my dear, now I’m sure you could really do with that coffee.”

He left the room, leaving the door open, a signal that someone would be back in and not to let fly. Catherine was in immediately with a tray with coffee for two only and when she left, she firmly shut the door. So I took it that this was the cue that we were getting some privacy now.

“Why wouldn’t you answer my calls? I wanted to tell you. Hell, we were meant to come here on Wednesday.”

“Jesus, Michael, the time to tell me this was at the start, so I knew what I would be letting myself in for, to make an informed choice. Not almost three months later,” I spat. “So I presume you’re the next MD too.”

He nodded his head dolefully. “I’m sorry, Shiv, I should have told you, but I was afraid you’d leave me. And I didn’t want to let you go. You meant too much to me.”

“How long does James know about me?”

“We talked about it for the first time the day I heard Myra was leaving, but apparently he knew nearly from the start; he saw me come to pick you up that day he kept you late.”

I groaned. That was like our second date.

“He warned me I should be straight with you, and I wanted to, so many times, but I kept praying that if I gave it long enough you might be in too deep to run and hide.”

“Did it not occur to you what three months of lies would do, Michael? How hard it would be to undo that? Or how hard it would be for me to trust you again? And what about
her
? I presume that was Vivienne I saw coming out of your office. You didn’t tell me you were meeting her either.”

“That’s because I didn’t know; she just arrived unannounced. I swear, Shiv, whatever we had finished when I met you. I knew from the start what I wanted and that we were something special. I knew you were my future. I wanted it all: marriage, kids, a mortgage, and growing old and wrinkly together. And I still do. But now I’ve made a mess of it all. Please tell me it’s not too late.”

I couldn’t hold in the hysterical, sarcastic laugh. That was the most preposterous proposal a girl ever had. Definitely not the stuff dreams were made of.

“What?” he demanded snappishly.

“We’ve only been together three months, and I find out that for all of that three months I’ve been dating a fictitious person, someone who doesn’t exist, and just as I find out that he doesn’t exist, you talk about marriage. You’re completely and utterly off your rocker,” I snapped back. “Shit, Michael, don’t you realise that I’m here to hand in my notice so I don’t have to work with you anymore.”

I spat that bit out; I wanted to hurt him, like he had hurt me. It was spiteful and malicious and one hundred percent intentional. It was like I had slapped him. The effect was instantaneous.

“Your notice won’t be accepted. Do you think you can just leave like that, especially now that Myra’s going?”

“Don’t think you can bully me, Michael. I’ll work out my notice, and I’ll see how long I can give you, but I have a job lined up…”

“What the fuck… Jesus, you went and got another job before you even gave me a chance. Do you think that little of me? So is that what you were at for the last few days, doing interviews? It was as much as I could do to get out of bed and function and you were off planning a whole new life, without me, without at least hearing me out. I didn’t think you were that cold or heartless. It seems I fell in love with a fictitious person too.”

My turn to be stung. “I was in no fit state to go job hunting, but Lynham’s rang me on Friday by coincidence, and the timing was perfect…then I finally figured out you were taking over from James and that put the tin hat on it,” I said softly, tears falling down my cheeks.

“So have you accepted it yet?” he asked a bit less angrily.

“No, I didn’t figure it all out until after your text asking to see me before I met James. Then it clicked that you were the successor. But hell, Michael, it’s even worse than I thought, he’s your dad, you really should have told me… anyway, it was too late to contact Lynham’s and I needed to get my head straight.”

“I know; I’m sorry.”

“How do you think it makes me feel? You didn’t trust me. Was it because you were afraid I would try to take advantage of the situation? Did you really think so little of me?”

“NO, it was the opposite. It’s because I know you well enough to know you would have been thinking just that and you would have finished it. And James, I mean Dad, wants to talk to you now, and I know that’s going to make things worse, so I needed to see you first. If he told you the truth, then you would definitely never forgive me. It had to come from me. I’m hoping that it’s not too late.” He reached out and touched my face softly. I shuddered. I couldn’t afford to be weak. He was harder to resist than I liked to admit. All I really wanted was for him to fold me in his embrace and tell me everything would be fine. And I wanted to believe it too. But I couldn’t.

“You’re looking lovely today, Shiv,” he said quietly. “You
never
leave your hair down, but you should. It really suits you. Are you ready to join James and Catherine?”

“My head hurts; I couldn’t tie it up,” I offered by way of explanation, rising to follow him.

He must have understood my need for a hug, or maybe he needed one, because as I stood up, he wrapped his strong arms around me. As I got his scent, I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing again. I put my head on his shoulder for the briefest moment, feeling his closeness, then resolutely gathered the strength to back away. I quickly wiped my eyes and followed him to the kitchen. James and Catherine looked expectantly at us and I could see their disappointment when it was pretty obvious that we hadn’t resolved everything.

We sat at the kitchen table where Catherine produced more coffee. James told me again of Myra’s offer, saying she was leaving in about a month’s time, maybe less as she had some holidays due.

“When I was recruiting you, I knew Myra was looking for a new challenge, and we recruited looking for someone who would be able to replace her as soon as possible. Myra and I are quite agreed, you are ready for the job and I’d like to offer you the role of personnel manager. I do realise this is a little more complicated than I had first expected because of what’s going on between you and Michael, but the job was yours the day we recruited you, and it has nothing to do with your relationship with him. The only difficulty that creates is whether you can work with him in the future. We threw you in at the deep end to make sure you could handle it. And you could, every time.”

I was gobsmacked. Take Michael out of the picture and it would have been my dream opportunity. I loved Banbury’s. I admired James and knew I could work with him. I liked my colleagues. Even the location and premises were a pleasure to go to every day; not a huge factor, but still, they added to the joy of working there. And personnel manager in Banbury’s was top of the heap, not like in Lynham’s where I would have been one of five managers reporting to a director. My future career would have been sorted. I would have become hugely employable. Basically there was only one tier above me. The problem was that all too soon that one tier would be Michael. How could I accept? And if I did, how long would it take before people said I only got the job because I had been sleeping with the boss! And who knows, maybe there might even be truth in that.

God, what a horrible predicament. My ideal job and I was going to have to refuse just because I hadn’t kept my knickers on. Even if Michael and I could find a way of working together, it would cheapen the achievement. And if we were going to try to fix things, it would be even worse, but why was I thinking like that—how could we fix things when he had lied from the start? I could have handled hearing he was two-timing me with Vivienne easier than all this information I had to absorb.

“James, thank you. I’m really flattered, but I don’t think under the circumstances I can accept. You should also know Lynham’s rang me on Friday offering me a job there and, all things considered, I think that might be the best option, but I’d like the weekend to think about it if I may.”

Shit, Shiv, I scolded myself, just say no, you know you can’t do it. It would be unethical and bloody messy. Bad enough that I had been screwing the boss’s son, albeit unknowingly. If I accepted this, then I had also been screwing my future boss. Talk about sleeping your way to the top. No, No, No! Not on. Not on at all. I had to refuse, but I guess I just wanted to hold onto the dream for a little longer.

Chapter Fifteen

Nothing would do Catherine but that I would stay for the dinner that I had missed on Wednesday night. I looked to Michael to help make it easy for me to leave, but he kept his mouth firmly shut. I didn’t know whether he wanted me to stay or go. James was no help either, adding his pleas to Catherine’s. My resistance met deaf ears. In the end I had to accept. It would have been extremely rude not to, but I really dreaded the thought of being cooped up, all four of us playing cosy, happy families when at that point in time I was still plotting sticking a voodoo doll of Michael with needles all over. I couldn’t help but have a quick snicker of a memory of a game Claire, Tara, and I sometimes played with our food. Perhaps I could secretly do it at the dinner table tonight to help me relax. When a man pissed any of us off, all three of us would shape our food into the shape of the offender, and bit by bit, chop body parts off and eat the pieces, chewing with relish, imagining the pain they would be feeling in the part of the anatomy we were eating. Yeah, I know it was very childish, but it was a lot cheaper than therapy! We always ended up laughing and the scorned party felt better for it.