Page 23 of The Surrender
As soon as I get to the office, I go on the hunt for Gary to make sure he got my message about XYZ and find him hunched over his desk, looking weary. “Okay?” I ask.
He lifts his eyes but not his head. “Long weekend.”
“Did you get my voicemail?”
“What voicemail?”
“The one about XYZ?”
He sits up straight. “What about XYZ?”
Oh shit, he doesn’t know? “You didn’t check theFinancial Timeson Saturday?”
“No, I spent the weekend up a mountain or on a lake.” He scrambles for his phone and loads the app, scrolling through the endless articles that have been released since Saturday. “Oh fuck.” His fist comes down on his desk hard.
“I’ll leave you to it,” I say quietly, slipping out before he really goes off the deep end and I’m caught in the cross fire. I shut the door, cringing as a loud string of curses comes through the wood.
“What’s going on in there?” Leighton asks, craning his neck to see through the panel of glass next to Gary’s door.
“He didn’t see the article on XYZ over the weekend.”
“Oh holy hell.” Leighton’s eyes bug. “How did he miss that?”
“He was away with his wife.”
“Fuck me, I’ll be staying out of his way today,” he says, just as a tonmore“Fucks” fly around Gary’s office. I tense, my face bunching.
“Hey, what happened to your hand?” Leighton helps himself to it and inspects the dressing.
I reclaim my limb as I peel my back away from the door and get on my way to the kitchen for coffee. “I cut it on a broken glass.”
“Ouch. Good weekend?” Leighton tracks me a few paces behind, and I look back to see he appears genuinely interested. “Your brother got married, right?”
“Right.” How does he know that? “And it was lovely, thank you.” I enter the kitchen and put a cup under the machine, spotting Sue bent over, reaching into the fridge. I clock Leighton eyeing her backside and cock my head when he sees I’ve caught him being a sleazebag. “Hi, Sue,” I say, eyes still on Leighton.
He clears his throat and gets his wandering eye under control, as Sue unbends her body and faces us, a smoothie carton in her hand. “Hey, kids,” she chirps. “Good weekend?”
“Excellent,” Leighton and I chime in unison, making both of us frown and glance at each other briefly before he clears his throat again and grabs a glass from the shelf, handing it to Sue. “You?” he asks.
“Well, I hammered my husband at golf, so yes. And we took our eldest back to university, so no.” She accepts the glass on a telling half-grin. “Thank you, Leighton.”
“Welcome.”
God, he’s such a suck-up. Sue toasts her empty glass at thin air. “Must get on.” She passes between us. “Don’t forget to keep an eye on that merger, Amelia. The whispers are rife,” she calls, looking back at me. “Gary said he mentioned it the night we were out for drinks.”
I try so hard to hide my smile, feeling Leighton’s equally poorly hidden scowl on my profile. “I will.”
Sue winks and leaves, and as expected, Leighton is on me like a rash. “What merger?”
I hit the button for a black Americano, pondering whether I should tell him. Tilda’s words come back to me.You’re not a vulture, Amelia.I’m also not a dickhead. And speaking of Tilda Spector, has she made any decisions yet on where and who she’s passing her clients to? Should I touch base with her? Check in?
I sigh—I honestly don’t know—and get back to the matter at hand. Leighton Sleazeball Steers. “There are whispers on the grapevine about two of the big investment banks merging.”
Leighton reaches for a spoon and hands it to me. How helpful of him. “Sugar?”
“I’m sweet enough,” I quip on a sickly-sweet smile.
“You are.”
