The Christmas Party (36 page)

He smiled lazily at her. ‘Did I hear someone at the door?’ ‘

Hmm,’ she said, nibbling a corner of the toast.

‘Anyone important?’

Kirsten shook her head. ‘No. Not really.’

The future, with nothing planned at all, opened up ahead of her. It was hers, to make it all that she wanted. She could go where she liked, do what she liked. She was free to be loved as she’d always wanted to be. The thought was intoxicating. There’d be no corporate directives, no strategic postings, no Executive Development Programme. It wasn’t only Tyler she was escaping from.

‘So, what shall we do now, Kirsten Benson?’

‘I think we should go back to bed. Eat breakfast. Make love.’

Simon nodded. ‘Sounds like a plan.’

Slipping off her dressing-gown, she slid back into bed. Simon dispensed with his towel and joined her. His skin was warm, damp and delicious. Freshly showered, he looked young and firm. She wanted him again, but didn’t want to appear too greedy for him. Kirsten smiled wickedly. Once upon a time, she’d thought Tyler was good in bed. It was funny how wrong you could be.

‘We could skip the breakfast part,’ Simon suggested.

‘We can’t live on lurve alone,’ she countered.

He nuzzled into her neck. ‘We could try.’

She laughed at that. ‘You old romantic. Besides, there’s no rush, we have all the time in the world.’

‘We do,’ he said. ‘I very much like the sound of that.’

Nevertheless, in one smooth movement, he pushed the tray to one side and reached for her.

‘I guess there’s plenty of time for me to cook more bacon too,’ Kirsten whispered as he pulled her close.

Chapter Fifty

Lance struggled to focus on the alarm clock through one open eye – the clock that had singularly failed to raise any alarm at six o’clock, when he usually rose. It told him that it was now nine o’clock and he would be desperately late for the office. Though it didn’t really matter when you were the boss and it was Christmas Eve. He wouldn’t be the only one who was tardy today. It must have been one hell of a party last night. He didn’t remember a thing about it, which usually went to prove that he’d had a great time.

Still, Melissa would normally have woken him before now. She was failing in her duties, which was most unlike her. Perhaps she’d hit it hard last night too.

It was his last day at Fossil Oil in the UK and there was a river of red tape to wade through before he handed over. Bud ‘the Hatchet’ Harman had wanted to send in one of those highflying young bucks to replace him, but he knew he could manage to talk him round. He needed someone he could trust inside Fossil in Europe to help him shake and make the corporate strategy for the future. He knew how the Brits liked to play it. Close to their chests. They didn’t go in for flash, fast dealing.

It had taken him a good few of his many years at Fossil Oil to develop a loyal, caring team, and he knew who he wanted to run the show from this end. Tyler Benson might be an arrogant son of a bitch on occasion, but he ran a tight ship. There was no denying that. He demanded the best from his team and he got it – by fair means or foul. When the line on everyone else’s graphs was plummeting steadily earthwards, Tyler Benson’s was still soaring to the skies. Most of it due to the superhuman contribution from his top sales manager, Josh Wallace. That young guy was impressive too. He was one of Fossil’s rising stars. No doubt today’s end-of-year sales figures would give him the ammunition he needed to fight his corner with Bud Harman.

Lance couldn’t wait for this Conway chap to get on board too. There was someone who had oil flowing in his veins, with balls enough not to let Tyler get the better of him. Together they’d make a great team. He’d thought he was supposed to be at the Christmas party last night – a great opportunity for him to meet Tyler and the rest of the staff – but in the event he hadn’t seen him. No matter. He’d be in harness soon enough. Lance checked the clock again. No more dilly-dallying. He needed to move himself and get into the office.

He turned over in bed to say good morning, but Melissa wasn’t there. She must have slept in the spare room. Sometimes she did when she was restless.

Lance hauled himself out of bed, ignoring the dizziness that accompanied the move. In the shower, he let the soothing water revive his dull and aching body before slipping into his freshly laundered white shirt and business suit which were already laid out for him. Melissa was normally up and about with the lark. He popped his head round the door of the spare room, but the bed hadn’t been slept in.

He went downstairs to the kitchen and was puzzled to find the table set for his breakfast. So Melissa
must
be up. Unless she did all this before she went to bed? The sight of muesli reclining drily in the bowl turned his stomach. It was bad enough the inside of his mouth feeling like a birdcage without adding to the effect by shoving seeds inside it. He would get the staff restaurant to send up a bacon-and-egg sandwich to his desk when he got to the office. There was nothing like a good dose of cholesterol to counteract the effects of a heavy drinking session. That was the key to it, and one that had served him well for many years. He just didn’t tell Melissa. She had a morbid fear of cholesterol and spent her life trying to get him to eat udon noodles and couscous.

There was a note in Melissa’s spidery handwriting propped against the glass of orange juice beside the bowl. He didn’t have his reading glasses on, but it would probably tell him where she was. As he reached for it, the world span round a little. There was a tight pain gripping his chest, just like it had last night. He remembered that much. Lance lurched forward, clutching at the breakfast bar but instead knocking over the glass. The note, the glass and the bowl all tumbled to the floor, the latter two smashing against the slate tiling.

‘God damn it,’ Lance muttered. There was glass, muesli and juice everywhere. The note was swimming in it, the ink already blurred. There was no way he’d be able to read it now. Instead he punched Melissa’s number into his phone and called her. It rang but, unusually, went straight to voicemail.

She’d probably gone to the gym or the shops or the hairdresser or somewhere else of national importance. Lance smiled to himself. She was a good woman, Melissa. Her business acumen had proved invaluable over the years too. No one had any inkling that she was the author of many of his best policies. That was their little secret. As was his love of alcohol. There weren’t many who would have stood by him – not since the drinking became a regular habit – but she was his rock.

Oh, he knew about the other men in her life, but, well, she was an attractive woman. Not just attractive – goddamn beautiful. And he knew she had needs. Needs that he couldn’t fulfil – also not since the drinking became a regular habit. He may not be able to please her in the bedroom any more, but he tried to make up for it in other ways. He bought her diamonds, and … and – well, mainly he bought her diamonds. At least she was discreet. There was no doubt about that. But he knew. He might get blind drunk, but he wasn’t blind.

There was someone in the UK who she’d become attached to. He could tell that. Moving to Washington DC would be a new start for them. Melissa, despite her protests, would love it. She would be the belle of the ball. Even after all these years, he was proud to have her on his arm. She was the love of his life. From the moment he first set eyes on her, she always had been. Perhaps, with this new job, they could find time to be together more.

Time to go tie up the loose ends at Fossil UK. The cleaner would come in later and sort out this mess. Lance picked the
Financial Times
from the table and tucked it under his arm.

Pulling on his cashmere coat, he strode purposefully towards the Bentley, which was already waiting outside. Lance glanced at his watch. It was just before ten.

‘Morning, Martin,’ he said to his driver as he opened the door for him.

‘Good morning, Mr Harvey,’ Martin replied politely.

Lance settled himself in the back seat and shook open the newspaper. Shares up, shares down. Always doom and gloom.

‘Martin, did you take Mrs Harvey anywhere this morning?’

‘No,’ Martin replied, ‘I didn’t, Mr Harvey.’

Martin, who had been waiting patiently for Lance outside the house since seven o’clock, and after only an hour’s fitful sleep in the car, pulled into the steady stream of traffic and headed back towards the offices of Fossil Oil.

Chapter Fifty-one

I’ve just finished typing my resignation letter when Tyler slams into the office. He’s like a bear with a sore head. He’s also wearing an ill-fitting waiter’s suit with a tailcoat and looks as if he hasn’t been to bed.

‘I don’t know what you think you’re doing here,’ he barks by way of greeting.

‘I’m only here to offer my resignation.’

‘No need to offer your resignation,’ Tyler says with a forced smile.

My heart lifts a little. Maybe he doesn’t bear a grudge.

‘Because you’re fired,’ he adds.

He does bear a grudge.

‘I’m really sorry about last night,’ I start. ‘I shouldn’t have left you like that, but it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.’ I take a deep breath. In for a penny, in for a pound. ‘I’ve had enough of you touching me up whenever you think you can get away with it. You’re always coming on to me, Tyler, and I don’t like it. You treat me with no respect.’

He recoils at that, but soon he’s biting back. ‘
I
treat
you
with no respect? Can I just remind you,
Ms
Young, that
you’re
the one who left
me
stark bollock naked at the Christmas party?’

He has a point.

‘I had to be rescued by firemen.’

‘Firemen?’ Now I’m confused. ‘From what?’

‘The fire.’

‘What fire?’

‘Another little matter from the aftermath of the delightful Christmas party is that there’s nothing left of the marquee at Wadestone Manor,’ Tyler informs me.

When I look aghast at him, he sighs. ‘A fire started at the end of the party. It was a miracle it didn’t spread to the rest of the building. No doubt you’d high-tailed it out of there by then. Or maybe you started it?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I wouldn’t put anything past you now, Louise. You’d locked me in the library, remember?
Locked!
When the fire started they had to smash the door to smithereens and lift me out of one of the windows, on a ladder. How does that make you feel, Ms Clever Clogs?’

Faintly nauseous.

‘Thanks to you, the majority of Fossil Oil’s employees are now intimately acquainted with my arsehole.’

I can see why he wouldn’t be pleased with that. ‘Was everyone else safe?’

‘Yes. No casualties. The firemen got everyone out unharmed. Though I did hope that The Magnificent Marvo had burned to death in a horrible manner. No such luck.’

He looks at me in a way that says he hoped I might have too.

‘Is that why you’re wearing a waiter’s outfit?’

‘Yes. And the reason I’m carrying an overnight bag and sporting a suit over my arm is that my wife has seen fit to throw me out.’

I brace myself for this.

‘It’s Christmas,’ he reminds me. ‘I have nowhere to go. This is your fault too.’

‘I can call her,’ I suggest. ‘Explain what happened.’

‘She’d never believe you. It will be down to
me
to sort it out. But this will cost me dearly, Louise. I want you to know that.’

‘I’m sorry.’ It’s safe to say that I’m now feeling like the worst person in the world.

‘Get rid of all this tat.’ He gestures at my Christmas decorations. ‘Get the rest of your stuff and get out.’

I gulp. So this really is it.

‘You’re bright,’ he says. ‘You could have gone places with me behind you, but you had to go and fuck it up.’

Now I feel like lying on the floor and weeping.

‘I’m going to go into Lance’s private shower room before he arrives, get cleaned up and change into my business suit. By the time I return, I want you gone.’ He holds up a hand and gives me a cheery wave. ‘Bye. Have a nice life.’

I open my mouth to speak, but he says, ‘Don’t even think about asking me for a reference.’

Then he’s gone.

I sit at my desk, stunned. What am I going to do now? I knew this would happen, but it still takes my breath away. As soon as Christmas is over, I’ll be back to looking at the Situations Vacant pages in the newspaper and signing on.

Eventually, I stand up and go to stare out of the window. This is a great office and, despite everything, I’m going to miss it. Outside it’s snowing again, and the view is of a city winter wonderland. Yet any Christmas spirit has suddenly gone from my heart.

I’d better get moving if I’m going to be out of here by the time Tyler comes back. Believe me, I’m in no rush to have another encounter with him. As requested, I clamber on to my desk and start to unpin the garlands that drape across the ceiling. Frankly, I’m tempted to leave it all here just to annoy him, but some of these are Mum’s old faithfuls and I ought to take them home.

As I wind up the gaudy crêpe paper, there’s a gentle tap on the door behind me and I whirl round. Josh Wallace is leaning on the doorframe, grinning at me.

‘Just in time to help me,’ I say, and lower a garland into his waiting hands. I climb down again and perch on my desk in front of him, looking and feeling very sheepish.

‘How are we this morning?’

‘I’m bearing up well considering that I’ve got a stonking hangover and Tyler has just fired me.’ Before I can stop it a tear squeezes out of my eye.

‘He hasn’t?’

I nod.

Instantly Josh dumps the garland and comes to take me into his arms. I let him, not worrying for once who might see us. As he tenderly pats my back and whispers soft endearments, I sob into his shoulder.

‘We’ll sort this out,’ he says. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll have a word with Tyler.’

‘I think it might fall on deaf ears.’

‘It’s Christmas. No one can be that heartless.’

‘Kirsten has thrown him out.’

‘Ouch.’ He grimaces at that.