Then his ex-girlfriend’s face turned towards him. ‘Cynthia?’ He drew back.
‘Ah, you’re here,’ she said, turning over and rubbing her eyes.
He stared at her, unable to speak. He could not believe what he was seeing.
‘Good to see you,’ she said, sitting up in bed and stretching out her bare arms to him. ‘I’ve come back to you.’ She smiled shyly.
Granger stood up, frowning. ‘You’ve come back to me?’
‘Yes. I missed you too much. I couldn’t stand life without you, so I came back.’ She yawned and stretched as if it was perfectly normal that she should be waiting for him.
Granger noted that she was only wearing a silky slip nightdress that wasn’t covering much of her nakedness. He felt uneasy. This was not the way things were supposed to be going. He turned to look over the balcony, struggling to get his head around what was going on. ‘You missed me too much, so you came back,’ he echoed.
‘Yes – and aren’t pleased to see me? You don’t seem to be, and if you’re not careful and seem a bit happier I might just leave again,’ she huffed, and stretched in the bed again.
‘You might just leave again,’ Granger mused, his hands balling into fists by his sides. His whole body was rigid, and he was amazing his self-control. ‘Why didn’t the delivery men fit the TV?’ he asked, his voice even.
‘Because it’s awful. It’s so out of date, I can’t believe you ordered that. I told them not to bother – we’ll be sending it back. I’ve seen a much nicer one that I want to buy but I needed your credit card. I can sort it out and it can be up by this weekend.’ She shifted her legs in the bed.
‘Because it’s awful,’ he repeated, almost laughing at her audacity. As if she had any right to take a decision or make a comment on his choice of equipment for his own apartment.
‘Are you going to keep repeating everything I say?’ Cynthia pulled a face. Granger swallowed, fighting to keep his temper. ‘Where shall we go for dinner tonight?’ she asked.
Granger ignored her. ‘Where’s Chantelle?’
‘Who?’
He turned to her; she was examining her nails, the bedcovers around her waist. He hated the way he could see her body, half naked. He picked up her dressing gown from where it had fallen on the floor by the bed and threw it to her.
‘Please put this on. Chantelle, the girl who was staying here. Where is she?’ His voice was rising as he struggled to withhold his anger. Cynthia looked blank. ‘The girl who was here looking after Rocky. Where is she?’
‘Oh, her. That foreign dog girl? I told her to go.’
‘You told her to go?’
‘Yes. I mean, I’m back, I can look after the dog. He’s mine after all. What’s the problem?’
‘You can look after the dog? He’s half-starved down there in the kitchen.’ Granger laughed. ‘How dare you!’ Forcing himself to stay calm, he caught his temper. ‘You’ve got two minutes to get out before I throw you out.’
‘What?’ Cynthia looked indignant.
‘Out. Get out of my place. If you’re still here in two minutes I will pick you up and physically evict you from my apartment.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Your time has started.’ He walked down the stairs.
‘Granger! What’s the matter with you?’ she called after him, but he wasn’t listening. His mind was blank, unable to believe what had happened.
He went into the kitchen where Rocky had licked his bowl clean. No wonder the poor dog was so hungry – he probably hadn’t been fed since Chantelle had left, whenever that was. No, correction, since Chantelle had been thrown out of his apartment. His blood boiled. How dare that woman come into his home and throw her out. His girlfriend. Of his home! He knew how nasty Cynthia could be. He hated to think of the exchange that must have taken place between the two women. He sucked in a breath at the thought.
Battling to stay calm he poured fresh water into a bowl and refilled the biscuits. Rocky drank thirstily. He pulled out his phone and dialled Chantelle again. The phone was still off. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. Would she forgive him? He had to speak to her, had to explain, to apologise. He had to ask her to come back. Nothing else mattered, nothing in the world.
He strode out of the kitchen. Cynthia was dragging a case behind her.
‘What on earth have you got in that?’ Granger asked, staring at the case. Cynthia crossed her arms over her chest. ‘My clothes. I’m hardly going to leave them here, am I?’
‘What are they doing here in the first place? You took all your things when you left last time.’
‘I told you. I thought you wanted us to get back together. I moved my things back in.’
Granger rolled his eyes. ‘Please leave my keys on the table,’ he muttered, unable to look at her.
When he heard the door shut he let out a breath and dialled Chantelle again. Still the answerphone. He looked around. There was no trace of Chantelle left in his place. She’d packed all her stuff. Granger put his hand in his coat pocket, took out the carefully packaged jewellery box and undid the ribbon. The diamond earrings glinted from the velvet cushion. They would look perfect on her, he was sure of it. He ran a finger over them, admiring the sparkling whiteness. Were they too much? Too soon? He had only known her a short while. But he could hardly wait to give them to her. He had to find her. Slipping the box back into his pocket, he grabbed his coat and headed out of the apartment. Moments later his Porsche sped out of the garage, screeching on the ramp as he powered out.
Chapter Ten
Chantelle arrived back at her house in Branford and let herself in. Slumping down on the bed she put her head in her hands and breathed deeply. Where to begin. She had finished at Granger Finance. Tears welled in her eyes. She had been hoping that a job would come up at the last minute. But it hadn’t. Her internship was over. She was on her own.
She had been thrown out of Granger’s apartment on top of it. She had let herself get distracted when she should have been focused on her career and getting a new job lined up. Now she had nothing, and she would have to go back to France and start again. Hot tears spilled from her eyes and coursed down her face. Everything she wanted had fallen apart.
She didn’t have much option; having no money saved she couldn’t afford to pay her rent, and she didn’t want to stay where she was. She didn’t want to be indebted to Neil – heaven forbid. Valerie’s words made sense. She needed to take some time for herself. To surround herself for a few days with people who cared about her. She thought about her Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Nico. Her heart dropped even lower. How could she tell them what had happened? They would be so disappointed; they were so proud of her, their little niece from the country, working in Summerville, England. She couldn’t bear the thought of the look on their faces when she returned without a job.
She pushed the image out of her mind. She was between jobs, that was all. She would find a job soon, she was sure. She changed into her running gear and hurried down and outside; she needed to clear her mind.
The air was fresh and it had started to rain. That was good. She wanted the rain to wash over her to help her forget what had happened. It was good she was unemployed; it was keeping her mind off the pain in her chest caused by Granger’s betrayal. What a fool she was. She stopped thinking, focusing only on the road in front of her. By the time she arrived back at her house she was completely exhausted and soaking wet.
Neil was still out, so she got into the shower and stood under the steaming hot water, her eyes closed. Her tears mixed with the hot water as it ran down her face. She stayed there for close to an hour, but finally had to drag herself out of the shower. She padded into her bedroom but didn’t even have enough energy left to get dressed. She closed her door and dropped down, exhausted, on to her bed. She had cried so much she thought she had nothing left in her, but more tears fell as she buried her face in the pillow.
Crouching on the bed she peered out of the window, keeping her face close to the window ledge, out of sight. Her heart almost stopped beating when she saw the midnight blue Porsche parked outside the house.
Granger.
She drew in a breath and dropped back down on to her bed so he didn’t see her. What was he doing here? He should still be in the States until tomorrow. Why was he back early? And what was he doing here? The banging continued. Her hands began to tremble. Could she face speaking to him? What more was there left to say? She didn’t work at his company anymore. She was going back to France. There was nothing left to say. She didn’t want any more humiliation.
Thank God Neil wasn’t in to answer the door. She put the pillow over her head and squeezed her eyes shut, praying that he would give up and leave. Finally, it went quiet. A car door open and shut outside the window. There was the fierce deep roar of the Porsche’s engine. Then silence.
She waited a few minutes then put her head up and looked out at the street. Somehow seeing the empty spot where the car had been hurt her again. He had gone. He had left her. She would never see him again.
Cursing, Granger stamped his foot down on the accelerator. He had never been so furious and helpless. For the first time in his life Granger Carmont didn’t know what to do. He sped off on to the motorway, pushing the car’s engine faster and faster.
If he could only find Chantelle and speak to her, he could sort everything out. He knew he could. It was just a stupid misunderstanding, after all. He took the long way home trying to relax, but this time driving did little to sooth his anger.
He slowed as he arrived at his apartment building, pulling into the garage and turning off the engine. He took the lift up to his apartment and let himself in. He looked around at the boxes and piles of cushions. He flopped down on the sofa, picked up one of the cushions and turned it over. Rocky padded over to him and rested his head on his leg.
Granger looked down at him and smiled. He put a hand on his head and gave him a rub. ‘Don’t worry, boy. I’ll figure it out.’ He forced himself to calm down. It wasn’t so bad. She would be at work the next day. Of course she would. She loved her job. No matter what had happened between them, Chantelle was a professional. She wouldn’t let her personal life get in the way of commitment to work. He would talk to her then. He would explain to her calmly that Cynthia was a crazy woman who had no right to enter his apartment. She was trespassing, for God’s sake. He would tell Chantelle how much she meant to him, how he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the moment he left her side, and that he didn’t ever want to leave her side again. And then he would ask her to come back to his place again. Hell, he would ask her to marry him!
It was that simple, just a misunderstanding, after all. It would be easily fixed. They would laugh about it. How silly it all was. As if he could even contemplate being with Cynthia DeVere again when he could be with Chantelle – sweet, delicate, Chantelle.
Then they would make love. His body tingled at the thought of taking her in his arms again. Kissing her and touching her. Everything would work out. It had to. He paced his apartment, unable to relax. Why was her phone off, though? It didn’t make sense. Was she so hurt that she couldn’t speak to him? If only he could call her and explain, it would take a few minutes.
The cushions were certainly from Chantelle. They were feminine and gentle. He arranged them on the sofa and smiled. Life with her would be amazing. He unpacked the electrical equipment that had been left in the boxes and assembled everything. He wasn’t going to waste any time on that stuff this weekend when he got her back. He had more important plans that involved spending most of their time in his bed.
He poured himself a drink and sat down, staring out of the window. It was raining hard; water was streaming down the glass. He sipped his whisky. He’d just signed the deal of a lifetime and frankly he hardly cared. What was wrong with him? His career was his life – why was he letting his emotions take over from his brain? Damn Cynthia. It made him so angry that someone had meddled in his business. Everything he had he worked for and she had no right to ruin it.
He swallowed his drink, enjoying the burning warmth in his throat. Lightning flashed outside. Something nudged his leg. Rocky had climbed on to the sofa beside him. He rested his chin on his thigh.
‘You miss her too, don’t you, boy?’ Granger ruffled the old dog’s sandy-coloured ears. The dog raised his head. ‘I know, I know. She is the one for us.’
When he lay down in bed he couldn’t sleep; he tossed and turned and eventually got up. He went up to the pool and powered lengths, trying to burn off all his pent-up energy and aggression. Finally, he gave up and got dressed ready for work. He would go into the office early and wait for her.
As he was dressing he noticed something in the corner by the bed. He bent down and picked it up. It was a phone charger – Chantelle’s phone charger. He closed his eyes. She must have forgotten it when she left. He sat down on the bed and ran a hand through his hair. He was relieved. Was that the reason her phone kept going to answerphone?
Feeling brighter he went downstairs to try out his new coffee maker. He put food down for Rocky. The old dog just looked at him. ‘What’s the matter, boy?’ Granger asked, patting him on the head. ‘It’s taken your appetite, as well? I know the feeling.’ He smiled and headed to his car.
He was the first one in the office. The executive floor was silent. All the VPs were flying back from the States so wouldn’t be in today. He headed straight for the analyst department. The lights were off. It was too early, no one was there. He paced back to his office and closed the door. He turned on his computer and stared at the screen as it fired up. He hated waiting. He was terrible at waiting. Impatience was one of his flaws. He looked at the clock. Time seemed to have stopped still.
He took the jewellery box out of his pocket and opened it again. He couldn’t wait to see them on Chantelle. There was a knock on his office door and he almost dropped the box. He stowed it safely into his jacket pocket again.
‘Come in,’ he called out. The door opened. It was Janet.
‘Mr Carmont, I saw the light. I didn’t expect you in today. If I’d known I would have been here earlier.’ She looked flustered.
‘Don’t worry. There was some stuff I needed to attend to that couldn’t wait.’ He looked at his computer.
‘Can I get you anything, Mr Carmont? Coffee?’ she offered, placing a vase of fresh flowers on his meeting table.
‘No, thank you. I don’t need any caffeine today. I’m already wide awake.’
‘Jet lag, huh? Let me know if I can do anything. Oh, and Mr Carmont? I wanted to be the first to congratulate you the deal. We’re all so pleased.’ She indicated the desks of the other PAs. He could see she meant it.
‘Thanks.’ He smiled. She turned to leave the office. ‘Janet?’ Granger called after her. ‘There is something you could do.’
‘Sure.’ She turned back to his desk, taking her pad out.
‘Can you tell me when the analysts are in the office?’
‘The analysts? OK. I’ll keep an eye on the floor. Is there anyone in particular you want?’
‘Yes,’ Granger murmured, then he shook his head. ‘No. No one. I want to know when everyone is in, so I can speak to them all.’ She nodded and closed the door. Granger looked out of the window. The phone rang. He banged the answer button without thinking.
‘Granger? It’s Richard. You back in Summerville?’
‘Yeah, back last night.’ Granger put the phone on speaker.
‘I’m in
the airport just about to jump on the plane. Can’t wait to get back.’
‘I can imagine,’ Granger muttered.
‘Look, I just wanted to check those details for that analyst you gave me. My PA’s been trying and trying but can’t get through to her. I want to set something up for next week. I urgently need to get her started. But I can’t get her hold of her. I need to know if I have to advertise the position or not.’
Granger pursed his lips. ‘She’s had some trouble with her phone.’
‘The emails keep bouncing. We can’t schedule a meeting with her. Has she left the company?’ The phone line crackled. ‘Have you got her private address?’
‘Emails bouncing? No, shouldn’t be,’ Granger said, clicking open an email and typing Chantelle’s address.
‘Look, I’ve got to go, Granger, they’re calling the flight. We’ll catch up when I’m back, but if you could get her to return the messages or contact my PA that would be great.’ The connection cut. Granger stared at the silent phone. The emails were bouncing? What was he talking about? He typed a quick message. ‘Hi, Chantelle, call me when you get in this morning.’ He pressed send. Moments later he received an email delivery failed message. He looked at it, frowning. How could the delivery have failed? He tried again but the same thing happened.
He got up and strode out of his office across to the analyst floor, his eyes moving straight to Chantelle’s empty desk. Margaret was already in her office behind her desk. ‘Finally,’ he muttered, heading over.
‘Mr Carmont.’ Margaret’s face lit up as he entered her office. She stood up and moved around and shook his hand. ‘I have to say congratulations on the successful trip. We are all very pleased with the results. It’s a great new start for the company, for Granger Finance.’ She pressed her glasses on to her nose. ‘I want to discuss our working allocations, the distribution of the analysts to the managers.’
The Executive Floor Page 18
