Page 42 of His Secretary's Nine-Month Notice
This felt like what being a couple was all about. Time was moving on and, if the whole subject of marriage had gone onto the back burner, then it was because they were both enjoying what they had. So why complicate matters by rocking the boat?
She was luxuriating in all sorts of taboo thoughts about love, happy-ever-afters, and other never-to-be-tabled scenarios, when she heard the buzz of her mobile.
It was a little after six in the evening. Outside, night had fallen and there was a glacial chill to the air that was a reminder that winter was lurking just round the corner. Inside the apartment, Violet was already in her comfy clothes. Bedroom slippers, jogging bottoms and a loose tee shirt, over which she was wearing a hand-me-down cardigan from her father who, as he had grown older, had adopted a curiously traditional sartorial style.
Slouching around was exactly what she would be doing for the next three days because Matt was in New York. As he had been the previous month, although only for two nights. He’d explained the deal to her, but her brain had been fuzzy, and he had burst out laughing when she’d yawned halfway through the details about an app that could do clever things involving personal finance. Not as amusing as the games industry, Matt had said, but anything to keep body and soul together—which was rich, coming from a billionaire.
It took her a few seconds to register the female voice down the end of the line and, even when she did, her first reaction was puzzlement more than anything else.
‘Glo?’ She parroted the name and then, just for added confirmation, ‘Glo Bale from the flower shop?’
‘The very same.’ Glo laughed.
She was a middle-aged woman with a bubbly personality and an infectious laugh. She and Violet had exchanged many a coded conversation in the past about Matt’s predilection for goodbye bouquets without once overstepping the line. It was a telephone relationship that had always been comfortable and amicable.
‘I’m sorry to bother you, my darling,’ Glo said breathlessly, ‘but I’ve been trying to get through to your lovely boss...’
Ex-boss,Violet thought absently. Clearly, Glo was not in the loop and she wondered what the other woman would think.
‘He’s away at the moment. New York.’
‘Probably busy in meetings,’ Glo said. ‘But here’s the thing. He left a message for me to prepare one of his bouquets. Said he’d get back to me to confirm details, but I haven’t heard, and the flowers are going to begin heading for the big botanical garden in the sky if he doesn’t get his skates on and fill me in on the details.’
‘A—a bouquet?’ Violet stammered.
‘Over-the-top one, if I’m honest, my darling.’
‘Over-the-top...’ She cleared her throat. Her stomach was doing weird things, freewheeling, making her feel giddy and sick. ‘Thanks for calling, Glo. I’ll... I’ll tell him to get in touch with you... Thanks.’
She hung up and stared sightlessly at her mobile.
Flowers? A bouquet? Over-the-top?
Who was he saying goodbye to?
CHAPTER TEN
Missed your calls. Sorry. Been busy.
SIXWORDS. BUTthe minute Matt read them on his mobile he knew that something was seriously wrong. He just couldn’t figure out whatthat something might be, because up until then life had been going swimmingly, for want of a better word.
He had one more day left. New York was less than its usual invigorating self and he couldn’t focus. What was that text message supposed to mean?
The meeting room on the fifty-ninth floor of a skyscraper that had topped the charts for creativity felt stifling. There were dozens of people milling around, almost as though there was no deal to be done, and they had all the time in the world to talk about nothing in particular while guzzling limitless glasses of champagne.
When Matt looked around him, he couldn’t see an end to the deal that, yet again, would amass millions in the years to come. The only thing he couldsee were those cool, impersonal words on his mobile, a response to the unanswered phone calls and text messages.
Been busy.Doing what?
Yes, she was back on her feet. Her blood pressure had stabilised. The sickness had gone. Of course, he thought distractedly, she was busy because she was no longer confined to his apartment. She was probably running herself ragged looking at paint colours, furniture or kitchen gadgets! Understandable, because she was not the sort of woman who could sit still.
And yet...
He crooked a finger and the start-up’s CEO jumped to attention like a puppet whose strings had been pulled.
He would have to go to Violet. There was no question about it. It took him under a minute to communicate his intentions to his startled sidekick.
‘But the signatures still have to hit the paper,’ Bob said, frowning. ‘Then there’s the usual celebrations...’
