The Executive Floor

by Belinda Wright

  ‘Not too busy?’ Granger said, peering into the narrow bar that seemed to extend endlessly backwards. Music was pulsing from inside and it was full of people. Golden light was spilling out on to the pavement. ‘It will be busier soon,’ she said. ‘We can sit outside, with Rocky.’ Chantelle pointed to one of the empty round tables facing the park opposite. Four tall outdoor heaters glowed in each corner of the terrace and all the chairs had folded blankets on them. A string of light bulbs gave the bar the feeling of a beach bar. Granger headed over and picked up the red fleece blanket from the chair and put it on the table.

  ‘It’s a cool place. I only discovered it a little while ago, but they make the best Mojitos,’ she said as they sat down. Granger secured the lead under the table. ‘And between eight and nine it’s happy hour – half-price cocktails. That’s why I wanted to get here early.’

  She passed the menu to Granger. He took it and put it on the table. ‘You know what you want?’ she asked, surprised.

  ‘If Mojito’s the thing to drink then that’s what I’ll have. And you?’

  ‘The same.’ He pushed back his chair and started to head inside.

  ‘I can go,’ Chantelle said, glancing at the throngs of people in the bar. She didn’t want Granger to have to deal with the pushing and shoving to get to the bar. He laughed and motioned for her to stay where she was. She watched him go into the bar and put her hand down to pat Rocky. The dog moved closer, resting himself against her leg. The warmth of his body was comforting. She watched the park, the street lights illuminating the path so she could see runners and walkers passing. She breathed slowly, enjoying being out in the cool air. She was looking forward to the week to come; it would allow her the time to think and figure out the next step of her life. Somehow she just couldn’t seem to focus on anything with Granger around. He was too distracting.

  She looked up as he came back carrying the cocktails. The large glasses were filled with ice cubes and fresh mint. He sat down next to her and gave her a glass.

  ‘Nice place,’ he said. ‘And I don’t even feel old and completely out of place!’

  ‘It’s a mix of people, not just students or office workers – all ages.’ Chantelle glanced at the middle-aged couple sitting near them. ‘But look, it’s getting busier.’ She nodded to the door as two couples walked in. ‘People want to get the happy hour. It’s good – seven pounds for two drinks.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure I’d heard correctly when the barman said seven pounds.’ He laughed. ‘Let’s give this a try.’ He sipped the drink and then nodded. ‘Not bad!’

  ‘I love them. But it’s strong. It’s sweet but strong. I never drink more than one.’

  ‘Good advice.’ Granger nodded, and she gave him a playful tap.

  ‘Don’t make fun of me! I don’t drink that much, and I don’t want to get drunk like the other night.’

  ‘Ah, I don’t know. That night was kind of fun.’

  ‘Yes, but I’d rather be able to remember our night together and make the most of it.’

  ‘Hey! I want to enjoy my drink – if you keep talking like that I might be tempted to down it and hurry you back to my apartment.’ They both laughed, and Granger put an arm around her, pulling her closer to him as they sat watching the park opposite.

  ‘I didn’t even know I had this place so close to my apartment. Although I probably wouldn’t have considered coming here anyway. It’s not the sort of place I normally go to.’

  ‘I guess it is different from the Countryside Restaurant.’

  ‘But not different in a bad way.’ Granger smiled. ‘You’re introducing me to new things.’ Chantelle felt a flush of warmth, pleased that he liked the bar. She moved closer into the warmth of his arm.

  That night Chantelle slept with her head on Granger’s chest. He held her until morning, neither of them moving much during the night. Granger dozed a bit, but he couldn’t sleep; his mind was active, he couldn’t relax. It was still dark outside when he glanced across at the bedside clock and saw it was almost time for his alarm. He slipped out of bed, turning the alarm off before it woke her, then stroked her cheek. She looked so peaceful lying in his bed like that. Peaceful and young. He was eleven years older than her and he felt old. Thirty-five was hardly old, he told himself. But was he too old for her? He headed to the bathroom, showered and dressed for the flight. Before he left he kissed her cheek; her eyes flickered but didn’t open. He went quietly down the stairs, picked up his case and opened the door. He felt a pang of sadness as he closed it behind him and stepped into the lift.

  Chantelle woke up on Sunday morning in a room golden with sunlight. Something warm and wet was licking her face; she opened her eyes. A soft pink tongue tickled her cheek. ‘Ohh, Rocky! What a wake-up!’ she whispered, wrapping her arms around the heavy dog.

  Rocky jumped down off the bed and sat obediently, waiting for her to get up. Chantelle reached out her hand and touched the empty side of the bed. She sighed and spread her arms and legs out, starfishing the whole huge bed. Was she really in Granger Carmont’s apartment?

  Yesterday afternoon, when she had arrived at his place, the apartment had been spotless. The cleaner had been at some point and had polished, and the bed was freshly made. The cleaner came twice a week, Granger had told her when she had started to clean the kitchen after dinner. She had always helped her Aunt Carolyn with the cleaning since she’d moved in with them at eleven years old; she wasn’t used to this luxury.

  ‘J’arrive, Rocky. I’ll be five minutes. I promise,’ Chantelle told the dog, jumping out of bed and heading to the bathroom before throwing on her clothes. She grabbed the lead and they set off on their morning walk. It was a beautiful and bright October morning. Summerville was already busy. They bounced along Branford High Street together, looking in the shop windows.

  She planned to spend the rest of the day shopping for things to fill the apartment. Chantelle had decided that when Granger returned he would be blown away by the improvements she was going to make. His apartment was nice, but it was so unhomely. Not cosy at all, and she was going to make it feel welcoming and inviting. The sort of place he could look forward to relaxing in after a day at the office. It was the least she could do to thank him for letting her stay.

  The thought of Granger brought a smile to her face. It was funny how down to earth he really was considering he was the managing director of a big company. They had had a great time at the Cuban bar last night, drinking the cheap cocktails and sitting in the cold evening watching people and talking.

  Chantelle was so wrapped up in her thoughts of Granger she didn’t notice the woman approaching her.

  ‘Chantelle? Ms Moulier?’ It took a few seconds for her to register that she was being addressed.

  ‘Oh! Margaret. I’m sorry, I was sleeping with my eyes open,’ Chantelle exclaimed.

  ‘I could see that. How are you, dear? It’s lovely to see a young person out and about early on a Sunday, making the most of the day.’ Margaret beamed at her.

  ‘I had to take him for a walk.’ Chantelle looked down at the dog, who had stopped obediently at her heel.

  ‘Ah, a dog! You own a dog.’ The older lady bent down to stroke the Rocky’s head.

  ‘Oh no, he’s not mine. I’m just walking him for a friend who’s away,’ Chantelle explained. Her boss’s fingers caught in Rocky’s collar and she squinted at the metal nameplate. ‘Rocky,’ she read, and straightened up, frowning. ‘Rocky. That’s a familiar name. I’m sure someone in the office has a dog named Rocky. I heard that name the other day. Who was it?’ She frowned, trying to remember.

  Chantelle’s stomach flipped. ‘Oh, I don’t know. It must be a coincidence. This dog is my friend Neil’s. Not someone from work.’ She crossed her fingers behind her back but still felt herself blush as she lied. ‘Anyway, I’d better get on. I’ve got so much to do today,’ she blustered. ‘It was nice to se
e you, Margaret. Have a very pleasant day,’ she said, and rushed off.

  Granger stretched out in the huge leather chair. He had a view of the runway spanning out in front of him as the Granger Finance corporate jet taxied on to the runway. He sipped his coffee.

  ‘How come you’re so relaxed?’ Richard asked. Richard Croft was the MD of one of the Granger Finance affiliate companies. He had his computer on his lap and had been frantically tapping away since they’d boarded the plane.

  ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ Granger smiled. Richard eyed him suspiciously.

  ‘I figured you’d be like a bear with a sore head, what with the stress of this takeover deal coming up and the state of your private life currently.’

  Granger raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean, the state of my private life?’

  ‘With Cynthia running off with that guy so publicly – it’s all over the internet. I mean, I know you’d had it with that girl but surely it sticks in your throat to see her out in public on someone else’s arm so soon after your split.’ Richard hammered his keyboard. ‘Damn this thing.’

  ‘Gently, don’t break it,’ Granger said, sipping his coffee. ‘I don’t have any idea what Cynthia is up to and I don’t really care. And if it makes her happy, good luck her. Anyway, don’t believe everything you read online. You know they’ve got me pegged as a ladies’ man. I only have to talk to a woman and they write that we’re dating.’ He picked up a newspaper and flicked to the business pages.

  ‘I know, I know. Sorry, mate,’ Richard said, rubbing his eyes. He flagged the stewardess over. ‘Bloody Mary, please.’

  ‘Bloody Mary, at this time?’ Granger said, as she hurried off for the drink.

  ‘I need something to settle me. I’ve got a lot of data to check. I think it will be a long flight for me.’ He looked grim. ‘You can’t find a good analyst for love nor money these days. I have to triple-check all my figures. There’s no way I’m going present figures that aren’t accurate, I hate that.’

  Granger couldn’t keep the smile from his face. ‘Ah, you’re right there. A good analyst is worth his weight in gold … or her weight,’ he couldn’t resist adding.

  ‘Her? What are you talking about?’ Richard watched him suspiciously. ‘You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?’

  Granger considered denying it but decided not to. A smile crept over his face. ‘OK, OK, yes, you’re right. I am seeing someone, actually, and she does just so happen to be an analyst, a bloody good one too, not to mention incredibly sexy.’ An image of Chantelle in his bed the night before flashed into his mind. ‘Incredibly sexy,’ he said again under his breath, and took out his phone to send her message.

  ‘Sly old fox!’ Richard exclaimed. ‘That’s why you’re so bloody relaxed! You’re sleeping with your analyst. Your figures had better be spotless.’ Richard laughed and drained his glass.

  ‘They will be,’ Granger said as he reclined his seat.

  ‘I wish I felt as calm as you look.’

  Granger smiled. ‘This takeover is in the bag, I promise you. When I show these projections there will be no discussion left to have. All I need from you and Michaela is to present positive projections from each of your companies to back up what I’m saying.’ He closed his eyes and let his mind wander.

  ‘Sure. I’m going keep working through these numbers, so when it comes to the crunch I’ll be ready. You can count on me.’ Richard rubbed his eyes. ‘Seriously, if your analyst girlfriend knows anyone looking for a job, tell her to send them my way. I haven’t had any good support for ages. And I can’t get these damn files to consolidate.’

  ‘You want me to take a look? Chantelle taught me a few things recently.’

  Richard narrowed his eyes and shook his head. ‘I’ll manage.’

  ‘Actually, though, if you are looking for someone, it might be worth talking to her. I know she’s just on a temporary contract with GF and she’ll have to leave the company. And there’s no way I can have a relationship with a member of my staff. I’m not comfortable with that.’

  Richard frowned. ‘I’m not sure I’d be comfortable employing your girlfriend. What if she screws up and I have to sack her? Or what if you dump her and I have to sack her?’

  Granger held up his hands. ‘Professionally she’s a free agent – her work is all up to her whether we’re together or not. But she’s smart. Your package better be good if you want her.’

  Richard rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. ‘If she’s as good as you say she is then the package will be good. I’ve been looking for someone for ages. I’ll have my PA set something up when we’re back. Send me her details. She really must be something if she can teach you to fix formulas.’

  Granger smiled. ‘She is. I’m already wishing I were back with her.’ He just had to get through this meeting.

  Chantelle let herself into the apartment and put down some food for Rocky before going upstairs and spending ages enjoying a long luxurious shower. Hopefully Margaret wouldn’t put two and two together and connect her with Granger. That was the last thing she needed at work, people talking about her and an MD.

  After her shower she padded down to the living room and turned on her laptop. There was an email waiting from him. He’d sent her a link to a huge flat-screen TV with a question.

  G/ Should I order it? Will you be in for the delivery on Thursday at 9 a.m.?

  She laughed. She could arrange to be little bit late. It would be a quiet week considering all the managers were at the meeting in the US – and it was her second to last day, after all. She wrote back and told him that he could order all the electronic equipment he wanted because she didn’t have a clue about that sort of thing. She had other ideas. She was going to make the apartment more like a home. She knew just what it needed.

  Dressed in tight jeans and a fitted polo-neck top, she pulled her hair up on her head into a high ponytail then she set off shopping. Her plan was to take each room at a time and focus on buying all the finishing touches to make it cosy. Today she was starting with the bedroom and the bathroom.

  When she returned, hours later, she was completely exhausted and very happy, and couldn’t wait to start putting her purchases in place. She moved around the flat, unpacking. For the bedroom she’d bought a big fluffy throw that went over the foot of the bed, giving it a warm Scandinavian feel. She had also bought a framed black and white print of the Eiffel tower that she hung on the wall, and for the floor a sheepskin rug.

  In the bathroom she added lotus plants, candles and stick air fresheners. She’d also stocked up on toiletries, which she put into the cupboards. Rocky trotted around behind her watching her. When she was finished she sat down on the edge of the bath and admired her handiwork.

  ‘What do you think, Rock? Will he like it?’ The dog cocked his head to one side. Chantelle smiled and rubbed his back, then went downstairs to prepare their dinner. During the week she would work on the living room and the kitchen. She already had some great ideas about what needed doing there.

  When she picked up her phone she discovered she had five emails from Granger, each with a different item of electronic equipment that he’d ordered to be delivered. Chantelle laughed. She wrote back telling him he didn’t need to run his purchases by her. It was his place, after all. It was nice that he cared about her opinion though, that he believed she should have an opinion about how his home looked.

  She didn’t dare think that this set-up could be anything but temporary. But go back to the shared house in Branford? She pushed the thought out of her mind. Neither going back to the grotty house with Neil nor leaving Granger were things she wanted to consider right now. She had a week to figure these things out. She would take one day at a time. For now, she was here to look after Rocky and to help Granger restock his house. That was it. She would look at job hunting and house hunting tomorrow.

  Chantelle busied herself tidyin
g the living room with Rocky padding along behind her as she plumped up the cushions and straightened the picture frames on the coffee table. There was a pile of magazines strewn on Granger’s desk. She picked them up and closed the pages, took them to the coffee table and arranged them in a neat stack. As she was shuffling the glossy magazines, a letter fell out of one of them and floated to the floor. It must be from his desk, Chantelle thought, picking it up to return it. The rough handwriting caught her eye. She looked at it; unable to stop herself, Chantelle read the letter. She gasped, putting her hand out to steady herself, suddenly feeling weak.

  Granger,

  If you don’t transfer the money to my bank account in the next 10 days, I am going to send the birth certificate to the newspapers. I think there are a lot of people who would be interested to see it!

  You’ve been warned, don’t test me.

  Chantelle dropped down on to the sofa, digesting the information. Her mind spun with questions. Granger was being blackmailed? Whose birth certificate? Why would the newspapers be interested? She chewed her fingernail, trying to work out it all out. Then it hit her.

  Granger had a child!

  He must be trying to keep the child secret. And someone, probably the baby’s mother, was threatening to send the birth certificate to the papers. Was he refusing to acknowledge his own child? To turn away from his responsibilities? Her stomach turned. What sort of a man was he? She hardly knew him, she realised. She had been so caught up in the moment and the physical attraction, she hadn’t stopped to consider his integrity. She felt sick.

  She went upstairs, changed into her swimsuit, and pulled on the bathrobe. She headed up to the pool, trying not to think about the letter but unable to stop the thoughts from solidifying. Granger had a child. Disappointment overwhelmed her. As much as she had tried not to let it happen, she could feel herself falling for him and now she felt like a fool.