Romance: Duplicity (Duplicity New Adult Romance Book 1) (3 page)

CHAPTER SIX

I'm so relieved to get home that evening but stressed too. First, I have to tell Tara that I won't be able to go to the club with her as I'll be working half the night. Didn't get much done earlier.

After lunch, I was glued to my desk all afternoon. I may have looked busy, but I was incapable of doing anything productive. Trying to focus was difficult with thoughts of Van Hoogen zipping in and out of my head. I've wasted so much time today I will have to make up for it tonight. It matters more than ever that I deliver the goods in the morning. Van Hoogen likes me, I'm sure of it. I want to impress him even more by proving how good I am at my job.

I turn the key in the lock and push the door. Stepping inside the dark hallway, I reach for the light switch but it's not working.
Damn, forgot to buy a bulb again.
I promptly trip over a holdall that Tara has left lying in the corridor. I curse loudly.

"You ok, babe?" Tara's head appears round the living room door. She has had her hair coloured again. The platinum blonde is even brighter than ever, with the ends dip-dyed blue. "What do you think of the barnet?" she asks, pointing to her hair and wrinkling her eyes and nose, a typical Tara mannerism. She looks stunning as always, in her unique quirky way.

"Yeah, looks great," I reply as enthusiastically as I can muster, making my way into the lounge. Now that I can see her properly, I immediately recognise the top she is wearing. My new top, I've worn it once. I'm too tired to raise the issue but she detects my irritation.

"Hope you don't mind, I borrowed your top. I'll leave it in the dry cleaner's tomorrow."

"Whatever." No, she won't. She never does. I'll find the blouse lying on a heap somewhere in a day or two. Tara's a total magpie and it's hard to find anything ever again in the trail of her mess. Sometimes I can't even see the floor for all her stuff.

I lift a pile of magazines from the sofa so I can sit down. Not for the first time, I comment, “Jeez, Tara, this place is like a squat. I hate sounding like your mother, but any chance you could tidy up round here some time?"

Anyone visiting for the first time would think we'd been burgled. Tara's personal style is Glastonbury meets charity shop, and that goes for interiors, clothes, and her questionable personal hygiene. But she has a heart of gold and is good fun to be around. I don't want to fight with her.

In any case, my comments are like water off Tara's back. "Ah, don't worry about that babe. You look like you need a glass of wine." Tara has a bottle already open, and makes a show of trying to find a clean glass.

I pull myself from the sofa and walk the short distance to my bedroom, an oasis of minimal, tasteful, tidy tranquility. The apartment's so tiny you can hardly swing a cat in it. I can't wait until I can afford my own place. When I get my promotion I can move out of this dump. And then it hits me again. It's not going to happen anytime soon. I can feel the tears spilling down my face. It's been building all afternoon and I'm sniffing and sobbing as Tara comes bombing in with my wine.

Tara hugs me and rubs my back as I recount the events of the day. She waits till I'm finished before giving her opinion. "You know what? It's shit you didn't get promoted, Holly, but you can't blame this Van Hoogen guy. It wasn't a done deal before he turned up, right? So maybe you just got your hopes up too quick." Ever the pragmatist, Tara always tells it like it is.

"Listen," Tara continues, "everything happens for a reason. Sounds like you've already made quite an impression on Mr. Vanderpump whatever his name is. He's got your knickers in quite a twist. You're going to work all night if you have to and you'll go in tomorrow and give him something other than your gorgeousness to think about. OK? Good." Tara takes the wine glass out of my hand and stands up. "You won't be needing this young lady, you've got work to do." Tara raises the glass and takes a sip. "Can I wear your black jeans tonight babe?" She wiggles her hips with a wink. They do look bloody good on her.

Tara might be really untidy and yes, she takes my things without asking but she's a good friend to me. I'd be lost here in London, if I didn't have her. She kisses me on the cheek and wishes me luck. I open my laptop and log on.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next day I'm exhausted but excited about showing off to Van Hoogen. The morning passes and I wait impatiently to be called. I watch as the others exit their meetings with the boss. None are looking very pleased. Trevor emerges, perspiring and red-faced, looking like he's just done ten rounds.

Then it's lunchtime. I stay at my desk and nibble on some fruit. Clearly Van Hoogen's leaving the best until last, I tell myself. The afternoon draws on. Finally, he calls me in. He gets straight down to business. There's no small talk at all and our lunch together yesterday seems like it never happened.

I take him through what I have been working on, my presentation for the Henderson pitch. What is it with this guy? He treats me like his BFF one day and the next he's a cold fish. Let's face it, the lift incident wasn't exactly professional. As I continue explaining my ideas, he says nothing, just listens, never taking his eyes off me.

"I've a graph here, I think you should take a look at. Will I run it through the projector?" I ask.

"No, no - no need for that, I'll come round," he replies. He gets up from his chair and walks around the desk to me. As he leans in beside me, I get the slightest hint of his smell. It's nothing as obvious as cologne but more an essence, a warm amber scent of skin.

We stay like that for a minute or two, him leaning over me, both of us staring at the screen, both aware that we're inside each other's personal space. Then he moves his hand to take control of the mouse on my notebook. His finger brushes against mine. It feels like an electric shock and he keeps it there, longer than he should, though it's only seconds.

"Thanks Holly, that will do."

Oh no it won't.
Enjoying the moment, I long for him to touch me again but it's clear that my time is up.

He walks me to the door. “This is very interesting. Good work, Holly. I may have to contact you out of hours regarding this one, so please expect a call."

"Yes, of course," I reply.

He opens the door and as I step out he guides me, with his hand in the small of my back. It's such an old-fashioned thing to do, such a small thing but it feels so intimate. Every nerve in my body is yearning for more.

Oh Nick, please touch me, touch me all over.

My legs are like water and I wobble from his office back to my desk. I fall into my chair and exhale loudly.

"Well? Was it bad?" Lou enquires, hoping for some scandal.

"Yeah. Real bad," I reply, trying to keep a straight face. "Awful." But my smile escapes.

Lou looks at me as if I'm mad.

CHAPTER EIGHT

It’s strange, there's no sign of Nick in the office for the next few days. I idly wonder where he might be. Feeling restless, I can't focus on work, even though I've got plenty to do. Nick's made sure that we all have.

I've arranged to meet Adam at our secret place for lunch. Prêt and the other chains nearby are always full of people from work so if we ever need a proper chat we go to a little café in an arcade behind Charing Cross station. It's a typical 'greasy spoon', and does the best bacon sandwiches and builder's tea. It's a couple of streets away but worth it for the peace.

When I arrive, Adam is there already but not at our usual table.

"You need to be careful," I comment, "I could get used to this."

"Nothing is too good for the lady." Adam bows his head and moves his arm in a sweeping gesture. I giggle, enjoying the familiarity of our usual joke.

"Well? So how are things going with Dick Van Hoogen?" asks Adam after we order.

"Bloody nightmare! He wants more and more but you can never tell if he's pleased or not. I don't want to have to impress him. I could do his job, you know?" Adam nods as I vent. "But I need to keep on the right side of him. I'm still sussing him out. Why should I care what he thinks anyway?" I omit that I'm already tied up in knots about the guy. I don’t think Adam would appreciate it.

"I'm sure he thinks you're good, Holly, how could he not," says Adam, stirring his tea. "His problem is, you're too bloody hot to handle." He wags his finger at me as if I've been naughty.

Oh Adam! I can tell him pretty much anything but I can't tell him about this. So, we collude in our little alliance against Van Hoogen. It's clear Adam hasn't changed his initial opinion of Nick.

"The word is, he's a total ball-breaker," Adam adds loudly, and several people look round. I whack him to be quiet.

"Just as well I don't have any," I retort. "No? Not funny?"

Adam shakes his head at my rubbish attempt at humour.

He continues, "Yeah, apparently he'll eat anyone who gets in his way for breakfast."

I'd like to get in his way then.
At the thought, I immediately feel disloyal to Adam.

"Well, I just have to grin and bear it, I suppose. Either that or leave the company." I don't think it will come to that, but something tells me there's drama ahead with Van Hoogen.

Adam's expression clouds over. "Leave it to me, Hols. There's something not right about this prick, just appearing like that out of nowhere. The skinny on him is well dodgy."

Adam seems convinced that Nick's a wrong'un. "Don't you worry, Hols. I'm going to get to the bottom of it, OK?"

I must look miserable, because Adam reaches over and squeezes my hand. "Here, you need cheering up. There's a gig on Saturday night in Camden, should be great, a group from Portland, Oregon. Kind of like Fleet Foxes. Why don't you come?"

"Sure, that sounds great," I reply, and it does. "I'll ask Tara too. I haven't gone out with her the last few times. Feel a bit guilty."

Adam puts on his huffy, little boy face. "I was asking you. Not Tara."

"So, Tara can't come?" I realise, too late, that Adam means just the two of us.

Adam sighs. "Of course, she can. I'll ask the lads from the house too. Here, there's a crumb ... there, just above your mouth … no there," and he points at whatever stray food is lodged on my face as I rub my cheek.

"Is it gone?" I ask.

"No, still there," he smiles then gently brushes above my lip with his fingertip. "That's it now," he says kindly. "You know Holly, I'd do anything for you."

It's true, I know Adam's got my back. We smile at each other for a few silent seconds.

"Come on Adam, time to go.”

CHAPTER NINE

I'm shattered. What a whirlwind of a week. Nick is in the office all day Friday but I don't see him at all.

At our meeting, he had said he might need to call me about the Henderson pitch, and stupidly I was hoping he would, but there's been nothing. I stare out at the skyline and watch the twilight fading into darkness.

Most of the others have gone on already to All Bar One or The Pitcher and Piano. Why am I still sitting here? I look at the computer screen. 6:58 PM. What a saddo. Right, that's it. A slick of lipstick and I'm out of here.

I'm the only person in the lift, and as the doors close I turn to the mirrored wall to fix my hair. The lift bell dings and the lift stops. I turn as the doors open to find myself face to face with Nick Van Hoogen. Butterflies leap in my tummy.

"Holly Martin, nice to see you." Nick nods as he steps inside and greets me with a surprised smile. I wonder if it's as nice for him as it is for me.

"Nicholas Van Hoogen," I reply, raising my eyebrows, and we both laugh a little. I remember what happened the last time we were in the lift together and I'm not sure whether to step away from him or closer. My heart is racing. The worries of the week lighten and suddenly I'm feeling coy and coquettish.

As ever, Van Hoogen’s manner is polite, although I don't sense his usual confidence shining through. He looks tired, and is unshaven. His shirt is unbuttoned at the neck and there's no tie today. His eyes are heavy, vulnerable. I long to reach out to him and draw him close, to hold him and give him a hug.

Instead, I ask, "So, how was your first week then?" struggling to keep the atmosphere half-normal.

"Oh, you know," he sighs deeply, meeting my gaze.

No, I don't.

"People expect results fast, Holly, sometimes even miracles." Nick creases his brow and shrugs. "It's my job to deliver. Comes with the territory."

Yep, it's his job and his shit. Not my problem. I realise the pressure I would be under in his position, and feel a little sorry for him.

"Look, we all go for a few drinks on a Friday. I'm just heading out to meet the others now. You're welcome to join us?" I hold my breath for his reply.

"Ah, I'm not sure that's a good idea." Wary, Nick shakes his head.

"Come on. It's a great idea. Give you a chance to get to know everyone better. You can buy a round - one for the team. That'll help staff morale. Yes?"

Please come, please, please, please.

"Oh, OK then, I suppose one won't hurt." Nick's eyes look up and he smiles.

"Great," I grin. Inside, I'm whooping with joy.

When we walk into All Bar One together, there are a few raised eyebrows. Lou almost falls off her chair. Nick buys everyone a drink which goes down rather well. We have another after that.