Page 63 of The Surrender
“Yeah, I remember him.”
“Didn’t I tell you I’d get him in my client bank?” The door closes, and I stare at it, my lagging brain trying to catch up.
“Shit,” I hiss, dialling Jude and standing, furious. “Are you having a meeting with Leighton Steers?” I ask abruptly when the call connects.
“Ummm ... yeah?” He definitely sounds guarded.
“Jude!”
“What?”
I sit down and stand back up again, starting to walk circles around my office. “Why are you meeting him?”
“Ummm . . .”
“Um, um, um,” I snap. “Cancel it.”
“No.”
My nostrils flare. I know exactly what he’s going to do. So much for loving him more for taking my word and accepting it. “Do not interfere with my career, Jude. That’s a hard no for me.”
“I’m not interfering with your career. I’m building up the hopes of some little rat who’s hitting on my girlfriend so I can dash them and send him on his way with a polite warning.”
“Polite?”
“Depends how I feel after the meeting.”
Or if he’s taken his pills.I slam my mouth shut before I can let those words tumble out. “Jude, I beg you,” I whisper.
“Oh, baby, don’t beg me. It turns me on.”
“Jude!”
He sighs, making a long, elaborate effort of it. “He needs telling.”
“I can handle Steers.”
“I have more of a presence than you.”
“Hard no, Jude,” I warn. “If you want to see me tonight, or any other night, for that matter, cancel your fucking meeting.” I hang up and yell, slamming my phone down on my desk. “Fucking man.” Dumping myself in my chair, I close my eyes and take a few moments to breathe. Calm.Give me calm.
My landline rings on my desk, but I don’t answer, definitely not feeling very calm yet. It rings off and rings again. Then rings off and my mobile starts. I lose my breath when I see Tilda Spector’s name. “Fuck,” I whisper, slapping my cheeks and blowing out a few controlled breaths. “Tilda,” I answer, happy.
“Amelia, I tried the office, but the receptionist couldn’t get through. I’m not disturbing you, am I?”
“No, no. Sorry, I was on another call. How are you?”
“Very good. I wondered if we could meet.”
My back goes ramrod straight in my chair. I feel like I’ve been waiting weeks for this call. “Absolutely.” I bite my tongue, refraining from asking why, and she laughs a little.
“Not a vulture, are you, Amelia?”
“Hate them,” I say, smiling.
“How does Wednesday next week sound?”
“Perfect. Just let me know where and when.”
