The Heartbroker (19 page)

“Why?” Stefan asks, shrugging. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know.” I trace my mind for an answer—any answer—to Brad’s sudden and inexplicable departure, the feeling I had yesterday that something wasn’t right stirring again in my belly.

“Brooke,” Jocelyn says, standing at the conference room door with a worried expression on her face.

“We’re kind of in the middle of something here,” I snap.

“I can see that, love. I thought you should know. External Affairs has cancelled their seminar.”

I stare at her. “What? Did they say why?”

“Something about a letter? And Brooke? There’s more.”

If I were wearing boots today, I’d certainly be trembling in them. “Tell me.”

“Both Innoviss and Gleeson have cancelled too.”

I look at her in disbelief. That’s all our upcoming government and corporate work for the next couple of weeks. “Why?”

“Sorry, love,” Jocelyn replies, a look of concern on her face. “I’ll make you a nice cuppa,” she adds, backing out of the room.

As if tea could fix this.

“It’s Brad.” My heart sinks to the floor. “He’s done this.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions, Brooke. He’s late, that’s all. And yes, it’s bad luck those clients have cancelled, but we can talk to them, find out what’s going on, see if we can reschedule or something.”

Stefan’s words echo around the room. I barely register them.

“I’m going to call Logan,” I mutter as I rise from my chair and walk like a zombie towards the door.

“
That
double crossing bastard? Why would you want to call him?” Stefan asks with venom.

“I explained what you thought you heard in Queenstown, Stefan. It was Brad who was trying to double—” I stop midsentence.

Oh. My. God.

I turn to Stefan, shaking. “What was on the memory stick you gave Brad yesterday?”

He shrugs. “Just stuff he’d asked for. Success rates, attrition rates, contact lists. That sort of thing.” He counts them off on his fingers as though they don’t mean a thing.

Hold the phone
. “Contact lists?” I squeak. “You gave him all our contacts?”

Tension pings around my head. Stefan gave Brad all our contacts.

“Yeah. What? You said full disclosure, provide Brad with whatever he needs.” He sounds like a hurt child.

“I didn’t mean give him our
full contact list
,” I shout at him, buffeting him with my gale force anger.

I’m suddenly dizzy. I grasp for a nearby chair, landing on it hard.

“Oh, no.” I cover my face with my hands, nausea rising in my throat. “He’s gone and taken everything.”

I look up at Stefan as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

My world is tilting on its axis.

“How can he have done that? We’ve signed a partnership agreement, remember? They can’t just come over here and take our company.”

I heave a deep sigh, trying to steady my growing panic. Failing.

The partnership agreement. I’m
such
an idiot.

When I don’t respond, Stefan asks, “Right, Brooke?”

I look across at him, standing there, hoping for reassurance, knowing I’m about to call off Christmas.

“Remember the clause I added?” I ask him dully.

“The one that allows us to abandon the agreement if we’re not happy? Yes. Stroke of genius, that one, boss.”

“The lawyers warned me it could be used the other way around. But I thought no, they wouldn’t do that. There’s no reason on this sweet Earth
You: Now
would want to back out of our deal. But what stupid, stupid Brooke failed to consider was that they might use our partnership to gain access to our company information and then steal it, shafting us in the process.”

My anger is rising so rapidly I could throttle a kitten. And I love kittens.

“Come on, Brooke. Don’t you think you’re jumping to conclusions a bit here?” He’s speaking hurriedly, turning increasingly pale. “So Brad’s gone back to the States earlier than expected. Maybe something’s happened in his personal life he had to get back for?”

I enjoy a momentary surge of positivity as I entertain Stefan’s idea.

Not for long.

It’s no coincidence our clients have begun to cancel seminars. I know it as well as I know myself. And there was something about the way Brad behaved yesterday—his almost feverish need to get through as much of our information as we could—that tells me he never intended to return today.

He’s got what he wants and he’s headed for the hills, leaving us behind with our mouths gaping in utter shock and disbelief.

LATER IN THE DAY I sit in my office, staring at my desk, lost in my thoughts. I’ve called our lawyers and asked them—pleaded with them—if there’s anything we can do to save my company. The answer has been a big, fat zero.

We’re screwed. It’s as clear as that.

My brilliant idea of partnering with a big American business to conquer new markets has led to our ruin.

There will be no partnership, no access to resources, no move into Australia.

What’s more, now
You: Now
has all our New Zealand information, we’ll have to compete with them just to retain our existing clients’ business. With
You: Now
’s superior marketing muscle, I’m convinced all but a handful of them will waddle off and dive into their slick, professional pond, leaving us high and dry.

My precious brand,
Live It
, will be just a distant memory for them all and we’ll be back to where we started, only worse: we’ll be competing against the most impressive and successful personal growth business in the world.

And it’s my fault.

I’ve tried calling Logan but keep getting his voicemail. I’ve left him a hoard of messages, from panicked to resigned, charting my emotional journey.

Finally, I pluck up the courage to call Greg Friedlander.

“Mr Friedlander is not available at this time,” his insipid assistant coos down the line at me. “May I take a message?”

“No. This is Brooke Mortimer from
Live
It. I want to speak with him. Now.”

“I do apologise, Ms Mortimer, but Mr Friedlander is not available at this time,” she repeats as though I’m a sandwich or two short of a picnic.

“I know. You said that!” I grip my phone so hard I think I hear it crack.

“May I take a message?” she asks in the same tone. She sounds completely unruffled.

Perhaps she’s used to her boss sending his oiks out to ruin people’s lives? Maybe I’m just one of many such callers today. All part of the job for her, I imagine.

I hang up in anger with an “
Arrgh
!” My head might explode, splattering my brains all over the walls.

My phone rings and I grab it, answering quickly when I see Logan’s name.

“My god am I glad to hear from you.” Relief sweeps over me.

Logan will know want to do.

“Brooke. At last. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for days. The coverage here is—” His voice cuts out, as if to illustrate his point.

“Logan? Can you hear me?”

“—joint decision. It’s what’s best for—Hello? Are you there? Dammit!”

“Yes, I’m here. What’s this joint decision?” I ask, desperate to understand him.

“—while it lasted—”

“While what lasted?” What is he talking about? While the partnership lasted? I’m gripped with fear. While
we
lasted? “Logan? Logan, can you hear me?”

“Brooke?”

“I can hear you. Logan, did you know about this? About the takeover?”

“Yes, I did.” I can hear him now, as clear as crystal.

His words hit me in the belly. Hard. “You did?” I whisper.

“I’m sorry, Brooke.”

“You’re sorry?” I ask incredulously. “You knew.” My world tilts on its axis. “You knew.”

“Brooke, please hear me out,” he pleads.

Not wanting to hear his excuses, his
lies
, I hang up the phone.

I sit staring at the screen in shock.

He knew. Logan knew.

There’s a tentative knock on my door. I look up to see Jocelyn standing in the doorway, mug in hand.

“I thought you could do with a fresh brew,” she says, placing the tea on my desk next to me.

I force a smile. “Thanks, Jocelyn.”

She stands next to me for a moment and I can feel her eyes on me. “What is it?” I ask, when she hasn’t left.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying, but it’s bloody obvious you’re not faring so well right now.” She has a look of kindness in her eyes.

Sadness, frustration, anger all reach a crescendo and tears well in my eyes, spilling over. “Oh, Jocelyn. It’s all gone to crap.”

She pulls me in for one of her bear hugs and I let the tears fall freely.

“There, there,” she says, comforting me. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“But it’s not,” I blubber, embarrassed my tears are wetting her floral blouse.

“Why don’t you park yourself down and tell me all about it.”

I look at her through my tears, aware in all probability that when the shit hits the fan—which it’s about to do on an epic scale—she’ll no longer have a job. Perhaps she won’t feel quite so kindly towards me then.

With reluctance I tell how her I’ve messed everything up, how I’ve lost the business through my own, stupid fault.

She sits back in her seat, taking it all in. “I knew something was up when I saw you storm out of the conference room earlier. Then Stefan had one of his hissy fits over by the photocopier before heading out. But this?” She shakes her head. “This is worse than I thought.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry, Jocelyn.” Another tear escapes and I wipe it away.

“Well, love, you took a risk and it didn’t pay off. But you have to admit it was worth a crack.” She smiles at me.

“How can you be so kind when I’ve just told you I’ve lost the business and you’re going to be out of a job?” I ask, flummoxed by her reaction.

“Oh, chook. There will be other jobs.”

She’s so reasonable I want to shake her, force her to see what I’ve done.

“Have you talked to you-know-who?” she asks in a quiet voice.

“Yes.” I’m unable to bring myself to utter his name.

“And?” she asks.

I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.

Jocelyn appears to understand, her mouth setting in a grim line.

“Brooke?”

I turn, wiping my eyes, to see Stefan standing in the doorway to my office. His head is bowed, his arms wrapped around his body, looking like he’s just been trampled by a herd of over-excited elephants.

“Come in, love,” Jocelyn says to him. “Close the door. No need to spook the troops.”

He walks tentatively in, stopping a few feet in front of us.

“Brooke, I’m so, so sorry.” His voice quavers.

If he starts crying we’ll be a pretty sorry management team, that’s for sure.

Part of me is so angry with him right now I can imagine steam coming out of my ears. But I also know what’s happened to us is almost entirely thanks to my naivety.

“I know I wasn’t the one to hand our contacts to Brad, but I may as well have been,” I say.

“I thought you’d be blaming me.” He gives me a grateful hug.

I shake my head. “It was my fault, Stefan. I know that. If I hadn’t been so greedy, wanting to grow the business, I would never have entertained the possibility of a partnership with those bastards.”

He hangs his head. “But don’t you see if I wasn’t so, err, blinded by Brad, I might have seen this coming?”

I stop in my tracks. “What did you say?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “Just that if I hadn’t, umm—” Stefan pauses, darting a look in Jocelyn’s direction.

“Oh, don’t mind me, chook. I know you’re as gay as the day is long. And Brad’s a good-looking bloke. I didn’t come down in the last rain shower, you know.”

Stefan smiles weakly. “What I’m saying is if I hadn’t fancied Brad so much, I might have seen what he was trying to do to us.”

I swallow hard, his words ringing in my ears. Oh God. He’s right. If
I
hadn’t been so involved with Logan,
I
might have seen what was coming. He thinks he’s talking about himself but he’s talking about
me
.

It’s my fault—mine and no one else’s.

“He would have done it anyway. It’s not your fault, Stefan. It’s mine.”

Relief floods his face. “Oh, Brooke,” he croaks.

“Yeah, I know.”

I ask them to leave me alone for a moment. As Stefan closes the door behind himself, my scattered thoughts inevitably land on Logan.

I’m such a fool. While I was busy falling in love with him, he was preparing to stab me in the back, running away with my business.

That explains why he pursued me so relentlessly, why he didn’t want to just keep our relationship on merely a professional footing, why he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

He knew I wanted him, and he played me like a fiddle.

And then there’s the way he seemed so happy I’d had a break clause added to the contract.

My god. He must have planned this all along! And I was just the attention-seeking, rom com-loving fool who gladly hopped on for the ride, losing my company—and my dignity—in the process.

I’m nothing more than a hooker who forgot to ask for payment.

Except there’s more: he’s broken my heart.

I grab at the diamond solitaire necklace I haven’t removed since he gave it to me and yank it off, hurtling it across the room as I dissolve into tears.

It’s truly been a crap-tastic day.