All it had taken in the end were a few well-aimed emails. A few late-night-heartbreak calls from Conway were easily swatted away. That was the end of it. So they couldn’t really have loved each other that much, despite all their ‘soulmate’ shit.
Kirsten was devastated. Of course she was. She’d never have looked at Tyler otherwise. All the time she’d been Conway’s girlfriend, she’d only ever had eyes for him. She looked at his rival with such love that it used to turn Tyler’s insides to water with jealousy. He wanted her to look at him like that. Even after all this time, after ten years of marriage, he still wasn’t sure she ever had. Yet he, Tyler Benson, had taken the biggest prize. There was no man happier than him the day he’d walked down the aisle with Kirsten on his arm. He had won her away from Conway. If not necessarily fair and square, he had still won her.
Now, after all these years, his nemesis, the monkey on his back, Conway had returned. Here he was, as large as life. It made him want to claw his own eyes out.
Simon held out his hand and reluctantly Tyler grasped it. They went through the motions of a civil greeting, though it was clear that each of the men was sizing up the other. Tyler wondered if, in a pissing contest, he’d come out on top. It might be a close-run thing. He wondered if Kirsten had seen Simon. What would she think about her former lover being back in town?
‘I’ll ask the question again,’ Tyler said, jaw clenched. ‘What are you doing here?’
He glanced around to see if Conway had come as a guest of someone from another department. Perhaps Fossil was doing business with him. Though it seemed a strange idea to bring him to the Christmas party. He’d kept track of Conway’s movements for a few years. His rise in Petro Oz had been meteoric. Why wouldn’t it be? He’d bet a tenner that Conway didn’t have a drunken sot of a chairman to deal with on a daily basis.
‘I’ve joined Fossil Oil, Tyler,’ Conway said.
That knocked the wind out of his sails. ‘What?’
‘I’d hoped that Lance would have spoken to you by now,’ Conway continued.
‘Well he hasn’t.’
Conway tutted. Tyler didn’t like the sound of this at all. Was this the man that Melissa had earlier this evening warned him about? If Conway was to be working for Tyler, then he should have appointed him. Not Lance. What was going on here? Was he losing his grip on the business? He’d always thought he had Lance under his thumb. It didn’t bode well that all along the chairman had been capable of independent thought.
‘I’m the international director.’
‘I should have been consulted on this. I can’t have you working for me.’
‘I’m not going to be working for you,’ Conway said. ‘I’m your new boss, Tyler.’
Was that him who just gasped out loud? Surely this was a mistake? Conway was to be his boss? Who had decided that? Lance knew that he had history with him, that there was no love lost. Whatever made him, or anyone, think this was a good idea?
‘Over my dead body,’ Tyler said.
‘I hope it doesn’t come to that.’ Conway gave him a sardonic smile.
On the stage, Karen from Customer Accounts was bowing, bigging up her part. As she left, The Magnificent Marvo was preparing for another trick.
‘We need to clear the air between us, Tyler,’ he said.
Simon looked as if he wanted to punch him. Well, just let him. That would be a good start to his career at Fossil Oil. ‘From where I’m standing the air seems perfectly clear.’
‘You couldn’t be more wrong,’ Simon said.
But before he could respond, the crowd started to chant, ‘Ty-ler! Ty-ler! Ty-ler!’
With a smug smile, Tyler turned away from Conway to see what was happening.
Up on stage The Magnificent Marvo was beckoning to him and the staff were shouting en masse for him to go along.
‘Ty-ler! Ty-ler! Ty-ler!’ It rang in his ears. They wanted him.
This would show Simon Conway that he was one of the lads. It would mark him out as the most popular man in Fossil Oil. That would give him something to think about. He wasn’t just going to walk in here and kick Tyler Benson around. Oh, no. He had the support and respect of his staff.
Tyler buttoned his dinner jacket. ‘Would you excuse me, Conway? My staff are calling for me.’
‘Tyler, I really don’t think you should.’ Simon turned his gaze anxiously towards the stage.
The staff started to stamp their feet. They wanted him. Only him.
Tyler held up his hand. ‘I know what I’m doing.’ This would be a textbook lesson in how to handle the staff of Fossil Oil. ‘Watch and learn.’
He marched away from Conway. He could hardly bring himself to even think ‘new boss’. Well, fuck Conway. The staff wanted him. This would show Simon Conway what he was made of.
‘Ty-ler! Ty-ler! Ty-ler!’ The staff pressed against him, jostling as he fought to get to the stage. To a man – and woman – they were all tanked up now. This sounded more like a gladiatorial tournament than a magic routine. It was only as he got closer to the stage and the sound of the staff’s applause was ringing loud in his ears that he realised what he’d done.
The grinning magician was slowly opening a black box. Then he kick-started a chainsaw and brandished it in the air. The crowd cheered louder. Tyler Benson’s step halted. A gulp travelled down his throat. His blood went very, very cold. It would appear that he’d just volunteered to be sawn in half.
Chapter Twenty-six
Kirsten made her way through the corridors of Wadestone Manor. Everyone else was drunk, staggering about. Girls leaned on each other for support or on men who weaved just as much as they did. Yet there was a purposeful edge to Kirsten’s stride. She was on a mission. A mission to find Tyler and take him home where she could give him a piece of her mind.
She’d had enough of this dreadful Christmas party. Even by Fossil Oil’s usual standards, it had been exhausting and emotionally draining. Also, if she kept her feet moving firmly forward, then she wouldn’t be tempted to turn tail and run back to Simon as fast as she possibly could.
It had flipped her world, seeing him again tonight and finding out that he still loved her, that he had loved her all along. It was going to take a while to regain her equilibrium after that revelation. Now she wanted to go back to her house, wipe the floor with Tyler and then snuggle into her pyjamas, sleep alone in the spare room and blot out this whole wretched evening. She’d never felt lonelier in all her life and just wanted someone to hold her. But not Tyler. She wanted Tyler to stay the hell away from her until she’d calmed down.
Passing through one of the rooms, she discarded her throw, tossing it over a couple who looked like they needed a little more privacy. Oh, to be young and so carefree. To have the ability to lose yourself in another person’s body without pause to consider the complications or consequences.
She didn’t think she’d done that since Simon had left.
At the entrance to the marquee Kirsten pulled up short. There was something going on up on the stage, a magician doing a trick of some kind, but she was too far away to see what. The staff were certainly enjoying it. They were cheering in a boisterous manner, baying for someone’s blood, it seemed. But everyone was crowded on to the dance floor and her view of the entertainment was blocked.
Kirsten scanned the room, looking for her husband in the middle of the fray. That’s where he’d usually be. Melissa and Lance were in a far corner at the side of the dance floor. Lance was slumped sideways and it looked like Melissa was trying to cajole him to do something. They should go home too. Their very presence was now an insult to the staff.
She craned her neck to see if she could locate Louise too, but there was no sight of her either. A frisson of alarm prickled her neck. That didn’t bode well. Why were she and Tyler both missing from the party?
The magician was whipping the crowd to a frenzy and, as he raised a chainsaw in the air, Kirsten realised that he must be cutting someone in half. An old trick, b
ut a crowd pleaser none the less. Duly the crowd roared its approval. Well, she certainly didn’t have the stomach to watch that. All she wanted to do was find Tyler and leave.
She turned and got out of there as quickly as she could. The rest of the manor was quiet now that the main attraction was in the marquee, and she made her way down the corridors. The last thing she wanted to do was bump into Simon again. She hoped he’d gone home too. She also hoped that tomorrow he’d tender his resignation from Fossil Oil and leave the country, go back to Texas, or Timbuktu – anywhere she didn’t have to see him again and know that she could never, ever be with him.
She opened the doors to a few rooms, but they were mainly populated by members of staff lost in the throes of passion. In what was obviously the snooker room, in the dim light there was a couple on top of the table, getting very friendly with each other. Kirsten backed out swiftly.
By the time she reached the reception desk Kirsten still hadn’t found her errant husband, but she decided to order a taxi anyway. She’d just go home. Tyler could do whatever he wanted. She asked the woman behind the desk to order one for her and texted Tyler to say she was leaving.
‘There’ll be a car here for you in about twenty minutes,’ the receptionist said as she hung up.
‘Is there somewhere quiet I can wait until then?’
The receptionist pointed to yet another corridor in this rabbit warren of a building, one Kirsten hadn’t been down before. ‘The library is just along there, madam. It’s tucked out of the way a little. That should be quieter for you.’
‘Thank you.’ Kirsten went along to the cloakroom and retrieved her coat. She checked her mobile, but Tyler had yet to reply. And this was a man who was permanently welded to his iPhone. He even disappeared into the shower with it sometimes. Where could he possibly have got to?
Moments later, she found the library and ducked inside. It was a vast room, luxuriously furnished and lined with splendid oak bookcases. The long windows, which probably faced on to the front of the house, were draped with heavy burgundy curtains. It was in darkness apart from the welcoming glow of the roaring fire and lights twinkling from an opulent Christmas tree in the far corner. Kirsten felt frozen to her bones and she rubbed her arms hopefully. It would be good to spend a few moments in here thawing out. She wondered if any warmth would ever reach the chill that was settled deep in her heart.
But as she walked towards the fireplace, she heard a noise. It was clear she wasn’t alone here. So much for a secluded retreat. Every single nook and cranny of this place was filled with copulating colleagues. It looked as if this room too was hosting a ‘team bonding’ session. Perhaps there’d be a boom in Fossil Oil babies in nine months’ time, with lots of children called Holly, Ivy and Tinsel. Oh, well, she’d leave them to it.
As she went to tiptoe out, a head popped up from behind the sofa. Despite the gloom, Kirsten recognised Louise.
‘Oh.’ Her hand flew to cover her mouth, but the exclamation was already out.
‘Mrs Benson,’ Louise said, straightening her dishevelled clothing. ‘I can explain.’
It was then that Kirsten noticed the man who lay full-length on the sofa beneath Louise. She backed away as quickly as she could. Kirsten didn’t need to see this. To catch Tyler in the very act of betraying her. She could hardly see him in the dim glow of the firelight, even if Louise hadn’t been shielding him, but she didn’t need to look any further to identify who it was. Who else could it be? The sucker punch of emotion to her stomach told her all she needed to know. She saw him scrabble at his clothes.
‘How could you, Tyler?’ A sob caught in Kirsten’s throat. ‘Here of all places? How could you do this to me again?’ She backed away, legs shaking. She’d known that Tyler was unfaithful to her. Of course she had. But this? How could he be so carelessly blatant? And at the office Christmas party? Kirsten felt nausea rising. All she wanted was to get out of here, and now.
‘Please Mrs Benson,’ Louise cried out. ‘This is not what you think. Wait!’
But before Louise could say another traitorous word or Tyler could start to try and sweet-talk her as she knew he would, Kirsten turned on her heel and fled.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The Magnificent Marvo seemed to be much more drunk than was desirable in a magician who was about to cut him in half, and Tyler was sweating profusely. Clearly Marvo had also been enjoying the free bar.
Tyler was locked in a long black box on the stage. A box that looked way too much like a coffin for his liking. Marvo, in Tyler’s mind less than magnificent, was lurching alarmingly, buzzing chainsaw still in hand. The box was tight all around him. Just his head stuck out at one end, his feet at the other. The edge of the hole for his head was pressing down on his Adam’s apple and making it hard to even swallow. Yet every second, there was a nervous gulp travelling down his throat.
Tyler, terror mounting, wanted to shout out to someone to help him. But how could he lose face in front of the staff? They were all cheering and whistling at his discomfiture. He had to man up and act the good sport. He hoped he didn’t piss himself.
This was probably the worst thing he’d had to do in the name of team bonding. There’d been that time in a restaurant in Hong Kong when he’d eaten live prawns that had just had some kind of alcohol poured on them, presumably to stun them enough to cope with their fate – much like the staff of Fossil Oil. But all that had resulted in was a night spent with his head down the loo of his five-star executive suite. A small price to pay for showing you had more bollocks than anyone else.
But this? This looked properly dangerous.
The Magnificent Marvo brandished his chainsaw with glee. The staff roared their approval.
‘Don’t struggle,’ he said in a theatrical manner to Tyler. ‘You swon’t feel a thing.’
His eyes look mad, Tyler thought. And not entirely pointed in the right direction.
‘Well,’ Marvo added with a cackle, ‘not much.’
The magician slipped the whirring chainsaw into a groove in the box around Tyler’s middle. Subconsciously, he sucked in his tummy. He wanted to stay as far away from the blade of that chainsaw as humanly possible. Even though it was a fake. It had to be, didn’t it? It still looked far too bloody realistic for his liking.
Beads of cold sweat were running down his forehead and his armpits were uncomfortably sticky. He should have just said no, bowed out gracefully with a self-deprecating smile. More pertinently, it should be Lance who was in this box. Preferably with the chainsaw at his neck.
It was all the fault of that bloody Simon Conway. If he hadn’t been here watching, Tyler would have made some excuse to stop this. But as it was, he couldn’t. There was no way he could lose face with Conway here.
What was he doing back now, anyway? And working at Fossil? The thought irritated his brain, buzzing like a particularly persistent wasp.
It was bad. Ominously bad.
Kirsten would be furious when she saw him too. He wondered where she’d got to. He sincerely hoped she hadn’t come across Simon yet. He couldn’t bear it if, even after all this time, her eyes still lit up when she saw him, as they always used to.
He’d have to find a way to get rid of Conway. There was no way there was room in the Fossil Oil universe for both of them. Conway was kryptonite to Tyler’s Superman.
Fretting about Conway, he hadn’t realised that the chainsaw was now cutting deep into the box. His mouth was drying and his ears rang with the distressing whine of the saw.
The Magnificent Marvo lifted his free hand and gestured to the crowd. ‘Do you really want me to cut him in half?’ he shouted.
‘Cut! Cut! Cut!’ they brayed.
Tyler scowled. They could sound not quite so enthusiastic at his discomfort. There surely must be some trick way that this worked. But the Magnificent Marvo hadn’t yet let him in on it. Then, as the shouting became louder, Tyler was sure he felt a nick on his stomach. His eyes widened in fear. Surely he’d imagined it
?
There was another. This time it was more than a mere nick, it was definitely a cut, which made him wince in pain.
‘Aaaagh!’ he cried out. ‘You’ve cut me, mate!’
‘What?’ The Magnificent Marvo was clearly struggling to hear him above the noise of the chainsaw and the rowdy audience.
There it was again. This time it really hurt.
‘You’ve fucking cut me!’ Tyler called out at the top of his voice, just as Marvo killed the chainsaw.
All the staff fell quiet now.
‘You’ve cut me,’ Tyler repeated.
‘It’s impossible,’ the magician said.
‘You have!’
The Magnificent Marvo jerked back on the chainsaw. He grinned at the aghast crowd, but now there was sweat on his forehead too. Hastily he gave the chainsaw to his assistant.
Tyler couldn’t wait to get out of the box. There was a disconcerting trickling of warm fluid round his waist.
One of the women in the front row gasped. ‘There’s blood!’
Tyler twisted his head, making the edge of the head-hole slice into his neck. When he looked, sure enough, spots of blood had dripped out and fallen on to the stage.
‘Oh, Christ,’ Tyler said. ‘Get me out of here! Now!’
Hurriedly Marvo unclipped the hinges that held the box shut. He swung it open, his grin fixed firmly in place. The audience stood frozen with bated breath. With an air of reluctance, the magician looked down at Tyler.
‘Oh, fuck,’ he said.
Then, hitting the stage with a resounding thud, The Magnificent Marvo fell into a dead faint.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Now I’m panicking horribly. ‘Quick, quick,’ I say to Josh. ‘We have to go after Tyler’s wife.’
Honestly, I’ve never moved so fast in my entire life. Josh is still tucking his shirt back into his trousers. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ I scold.
The Christmas Party Page 18
