“Ooh, looks like it’s dessert time,” says Max gleefully. He follows his nose, and the tray, taking up his seat at the table.
As soon as he’s gone, Freja and Georgie usher me into a corner. We’re as far away from the Bing Crosby-soundalike entertainer as we can get. This makes me happy as he’s now crooning “Frosty the Snowman”, which I’ve always hated.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Freja asks. She looks fabulous in a black, figure-hugging halter-neck jumpsuit with a spray of tiny sparkles on the bodice. Her hair is tied back in a sleek copper ponytail, and her pale, freckled skin is dusted with gold body glitter. Georgie is wearing a fussy silver dress that ruffles rather unflatteringly at her waist.
I take my phone from my bag and show Freja the email I copied from Tribe’s server.
Freja’s mouth falls open as she reads it. “Oh my god.”
Georgie grabs Freja’s arm so she can see too. Her face erupts with confusion. “What does this mean? They’re trying to destroy Tribe?”
“No, they’re trying to destroy Stella.” I take the phone back and put it in my bag. “Georgie, I’m so sorry you got caught up in all this.”
Freja’s face reddens and her body tenses. She doesn’t say anything, and it isn’t like her to be lost for words. Georgie, on the other hand, has no trouble saying precisely what she’s thinks – a totally shocking “What a cunt!” is exclaimed at the exact same time as the music stops and the room erupts with applause.
Freja laughs. “Shit, George. I’ve never heard you use the c-word before.”
“I’m sorry.” She wrinkles her nose. “I didn’t like how it sounded.”
Freja fixes her telepathic brown eyes on me. “Be careful, Violet. I know you, and I can only imagine how you’re feeling, but don’t let your anger get the better of you. Think this through properly. Talk to Stella.”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t trust her.”
“Then take it to Ethan.” Freja’s eyes flit behind me and a shiver sets into my bones. I know that look. I turn around just as Ethan approaches us.
“I thought you weren’t going to come.” He gives me a cute smile which makes my insides flutter, but the butterflies soon drown in a sea of dread. What on earth am I going to say to him?
“I had something I needed to take care of.”
“Can we talk?”
Freja and Georgie start to move away, but the evening takes a gigantic leap into a fresh abyss of hellishness when Lucas Bartle decides now is the perfect time to saunter over to join us. He’s wearing a smart navy-blue suit coupled with a cocksure grin. My stomach lurches.
“Is everything okay, Ethan, ladies?” he asks.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Freja says coolly. Georgie doesn’t look at him. I feel my hands ball into fists and I start pleading with myself. You’ve got him, so don’t fuck it up.
Lucas’s face flashes with curiosity as he looks at the four of us. Something similar to evil flickers in his eyes for a brief moment, then he raises his shoulders and holds his head high. “Stella told me she called to see you this evening, Violet. I just wanted to say I think you should accept her very generous offer.”
And it’s over before I realise what I’m doing.
The palm of my hand collides with Lucas’s face, and a loud cracking sound reverberates in earth-shattering echoes around the room.
I hear gasps. I hear shrieks. I hear various shocked exclamations.
Then I feel Ethan take hold of my elbow and pull me away, but I break out of his hold and slap Lucas again. “The first one was for Georgie, and that one was for me.”
Lucas recovers quickly, his arrogant grin replaced by a much sterner expression. He takes a step towards me, but Freja places herself between us. “You need to leave,” she says to him. Her voice is strong and commanding, making her former boss snap to attention. A slow crawl of realisation spreads across Lucas’s face. He looks at me briefly, before his gaze returns to Freja, then he swallows a guilty breath and takes two steps backwards.
Jadine cautiously approaches the scene. She softly touches her father’s arm, and he acknowledges her presence with a weak smile. A group of party guests form a semicircle around us. Stella looks like she wants to kill me.
“Do something,” Max mouths.
I realise it’s fight or flight time.
“Is anybody going to tell me what the hell is going on?” Ethan glares at Lucas, his one-time bromance partner. The older man glares back.
“Clearly she’s deranged,” Jadine says, tightening her hold on her father’s arm.
I inhale a furious breath, but this time I keep my temper in check and resist the urge to bitch-slap him again. Since when did I start hitting people? Jesus, what’s wrong with me? I’ve spent my entire life proud of my wordsmith superpowers, yet here I am using violence instead of words, like a common criminal. Shit, I am a criminal. Could I get arrested? I envisage myself handcuffed in a prison cell with a glass wall like Hannibal Lecter. Then I remind myself I only slapped Lucas. I didn’t eat him.
“Maybe we should take this outside,” Freja says in a calming tone.
“You know what this is about?” asks Ethan.
Freja nods. “I do, and believe me, you don’t want to discuss it here.”
Ethan huffs out a breath and shakes his head. “And what about you?” he asks, turning to a dumbstruck Georgie.
Georgie moves close to me and gently places her arm around my shoulder. “Yes, I know too and I agree with Freja.”
“I think this show is over.” Lucas throws me a scowl. “If you haven’t made your decision yet, Miss Archer, then I’ll make it for you. You’re fired.”
“You’re in no position to fire me,” I reply with a short laugh. Seriously, how stupid is he?
“No, but I am.” Stella emerges from the semicircle of guests. She walks past Ethan to stand shoulder to shoulder with Lucas. “Unless, of course, you can think of a reason why I shouldn’t.”
Georgie gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
Freja moves to my other side and leans in to whisper in my ear. “Do it.”
I take a deep breath. I don’t know how my legs are holding me up because they feel like they’re made of semi-set jelly. My eyes start to water and I chew my bottom lip as a jumble of words – all of them the wrong ones – rattle around in my brain.
Then I look at Ethan, and it feels like my soul is being torn apart. His beautiful eyes are filled with sadness that I’ve created. Max said he was hurting, and I know I hurt him.
But I’m not going down without a fight.
“Oliver Jones didn’t submit the wrong ad to French Vogue because of me. He knew exactly what he was doing, because Lucas told him to do it.”
“What?” Ethan asks, horror spiking in his voice.
“That’s ludicrous,” Jadine scoffs, her arm linking her father’s. “You really are quite mad, aren’t you?”
“I don’t have to listen to this.” Lucas places his hand on Jadine’s and glares at me. “Make sure your desk is clear by tomorrow—”
“Actually, I’d like to hear more,” says Stella. “Can you back up these accusations?”
“Yes. I know I never produced paperwork for the wrong Belle Oaks commercial, let alone hand-delivered it to Media, but aside from that, I have an email sent from Lucas to Jadine.” I take my phone from my pocket, inhale the biggest breath of my life and read out the email: “You’re going to get some great news soon, my darling. Stay close to Fraser tonight – strike as soon as you get the chance. As for Stella, Arthur is finally coming around to my way of thinking. She isn’t cut out to be CEO. I can’t tell you all the details – I need to keep you out of it – but she’s going to regret swindling me out of my company, just like that bitch copywriter will regret getting in your way. Buying Oliver Jones was the best thing I ever did. See you tonight, my love.”
The room falls silent. Surprisingly, Lucas is the first to speak. “That doesn’t mean anything.�
�
Ethan charges forward. “What kind of a fucking monster are you?”
He rounds on the older man, and my heart leaps into my mouth. Ethan has a far longer and more colourful history of using his fists to sort out his differences than I do.
“Explain it then, Lucas,” I say. “How exactly did you ‘buy’ Oliver Jones? How did you get him to set me up? And how the hell did I get in Jadine’s way – her way to where?” I know the answer to that question, of course, but it’s fun to watch Jadine squirm.
Lucas and Jadine look at each other, but neither of them speak.
“I can’t believe any of this. It’s like an episode of fucking Dallas.” Ethan runs his hand through his hair and shakes his head in exasperation. “That stunt you just pulled has cost us thousands.”
“Wrong,” says Stella. “It has cost Lucas thousands, because he’s going to be paying for it.” She narrows her eyes at him and lowers her voice to a purr. “Luckily, you won’t need to remortgage your penthouse. You can use the money you receive when we buy out your partnership.”
Lucas looks at Jadine and gently unlinks her arm from his, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
“No, Dad, you can’t . . . don’t let them win,” Jadine pleads.
Lucas forces a smile onto his face, collects his wife from a nearby table and walks away, leaving Jadine to stare after him. I start to feel something extremely strange and unsettling towards her – sympathy. How weird is that? I remind myself of all the horrible things she’s done to me – the posters, the lies, the message from her friend, her attempts to turn Ethan against me – and I return to hating her.
“Will you be leaving us too?” Stella asks Jadine.
“I didn’t know . . . I would have stopped him,” she says, her bottom lip trembling.
Funnily enough, I find myself believing her. She acts so fake most of the time that it’s quite easy to tell when she’s being genuine.
“Then do as you please.” Stella looks her up and down. “But know your cards are marked at Tribe.”
Jadine turns to Ethan and gives him the kind of innocent smile you’d find on a covertly villainous Bond girl. He responds with a nod, which is good news. If he’d smiled back at her I think my third slap of the evening may have winged its way to the left side of his head.
Now that the crowd of people behind us has dispersed, Jadine returns to her table and glides her arm around Jared Taft’s shoulder. I’m not sure if she’s just being friendly or if she’s sending us a reminder that she’s still close friends with our biggest client.
“I have to thank you for that, Violet,” says Stella. “I didn’t think you had it in you, but that was fucking awesome. It’s a shame Arthur is spending Christmas at his villa in Madeira and couldn’t make it tonight. I can’t wait to tell him you found the evidence we needed to get rid of that bastard.”
“You . . . you knew?”
A smile lights up her eyes. “Of course I knew. I’ve known Lucas was planning a coup for months. We all knew. We’ve been watching him very closely.”
My previous state of euphoria evaporates like morning mist on a summer’s day. “Then why did you let me take the blame? Why did you ask me to resign?”
“Wait. You did what now?” Ethan’s voice has become as Scottish as William Wallace’s head on a spike. This means he’s very angry.
“Oh, settle down, Sir Lancelot,” Stella says, clearly recognising the signs Ethan makes when he’s ready to blow. She turns back to me. “I did that because I was curious to see what you’d do. Would you pick up the bricks Lucas was throwing at me, or would you shrink away from the fight and give up?”
I mull over her words. I think I understand. “Would you have let me resign and go to New York?”
“Yes, I would,” she says, without missing a beat.
Georgie tightens her hold on me again. Freja rests one hand on my shoulder.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, this is incredible. You were going to send her away? When were you going to tell me you’d fired my . . .” Ethan’s voice breaks. He looks at me and heaves a shaky sigh. “When were you going to tell me you’d fired my best friend?”
“After she’d made her decision.” Stella says in her usual cool, couldn’t-give-a-fuck way. “Dylan’s job offer is still there, and as it’s a great opportunity, I think she should consider taking it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my guests.”
Stella glides back to her table like a white swan on a lake.
And suddenly I don’t know what to do with myself.
“You okay?” Freja gives my arm a reassuring rub.
“Yeah,” I reply.
“That was simply awful, sweetie.” Georgie finally removes her arm from around my shoulders. “But at least it’s all over now. Come on, you need to sit down. Poor thing, you must be reeling.”
“Actually, I think I just want to go home. I got what I wanted and I’m not really in the mood for—”
“When were you going to tell me?” interrupts Ethan.
Freja, clearly picking up on Ethan’s tone, leads Georgie back to their table, leaving us alone.
“I don’t know, I guess—”
“Are you going to leave?”
“No . . . uhm . . . I don’t know. It is a great opportunity.”
A puff of laughter escapes from the corner of his mouth. “I can’t believe this. Are you going to New York because he’ll be there?”
It takes me a second to realise who he’s talking about. “You mean Ryan?”
He nods and my blood starts to boil.
“Ethan, I told you I hadn’t made a decision, and I haven’t.” I narrow the gap between us and keep my voice low. “But Ryan Rafferty makes me want to stay here, not go there. This is about me; it has nothing to do with him, and this is not the place to talk about it.”
He grabs my elbow and pulls me out of the room.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask as he drags me down the carpeted stairs and into the hotel’s grand lobby.
He looks around the huge space, where a few party guests are mingling with hotel guests. “I need to talk to you.”
“So talk.”
28
I FOLLOW HIM OUT THROUGH the hotel’s huge wooden doors to the courtyard entranceway, passing doormen in coats and tails and a line of potted trees decorated with fairy lights. The cold December air immediately bites at my skin and I hug my arms around me. “Do we have to stand out here? It’s freezing.”
“I just need a minute.”
I instinctively blow on my hands. A gust of wind snaps at my ankles and I do a little jiggle to keep warm.
“It’s not that cold, Vi.”
“You’re wearing a jacket.”
He starts to take it off but I raise my hand to stop him. “Please, no Sir Walter Raleigh gestures. I don’t want your jacket. Just talk to me.”
He puts his hand in his pocket and takes out a small black velvet pouch. I know what it is right away and my heart flip-flops inside my ribcage. He opens the pouch and lets the silver pendant fall into his hand. “It’s identical to the one you lost.”
I can’t stop my hand trembling as I take it from him, letting my fingers run over the indented laurel branch design on the small silver disc. “Thank you,” I say, choking back a sob. My fingers fumble with the clasp as I try to put it on.
“Here, let me help you.”
I turn my back to him and pull up my hair. I feel his fingers press into my skin as he locks the necklace in place, then he runs his hands slowly down my bare arms. I let my hair fall, but he doesn’t let go of me. I turn my head to look over my shoulder.
“Ethan . . .”
“Don’t go.”
I can’t find a single word that’s appropriate to describe what I’m feeling. Traffic roars down Marylebone Road, and the wind scatters leaves around our feet. Revellers from the hotel disperse onto the courtyard for a cigarette break. They surround us, armed with wine glasses and spirited chatter
, and we’re just staring at each other in the middle of it all, wondering what we should do and say. It’s like we’re playing a game of snakes and ladders. Five steps forward, up the ladder, three steps back, down the snake. I hate board games. If it looks like I’m losing, then I tend to cheat.
“You were great in there,” he says finally, breaking the weird silence. He nods towards the hotel. “The look on Lucas’s face was priceless. He couldn’t believe what hit him.”
“The palm of my hand hit him.”
He laughs as the recognition lands in his eyes with a glimmer. Shit, his laugh is delicious. “It certainly did. Twice, if I remember correctly.”
“Yeah, I admit that did feel pretty great.”
“I know these past few weeks have been hard, and I know I’m mostly responsible, but please don’t go to New York. I know I have no right to ask you to stay, because I’m a useless eejit.” He takes hold of my hands and I relax a little at the warmth of his touch. “Everything that has happened between us was exactly why I spent three years running from how I felt about you. I knew I’d hurt you. That’s why I kept you as my best friend. I was terrified this would happen. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, but I don’t want to lose you.”
My face twists against the cold night air as I try to stop my tears from falling. “Ethan, I . . . I don’t want to go. I love you, but maybe what’s best for both of us isn’t each other.”
“No, don’t . . . please, don’t say that.”
A group of Tribe employees tear down the steps in our direction. I recognise our two receptionists, Priyanka and Amy, and I think the guys they’re with work in the IT department. They stop when they see us and giggle. Amy totters on her heels and almost lands in a potted tree. A dark-haired guy wearing a shirt too tight for his athletic build grabs her around the waist to steady her. And all of a sudden I feel horribly self-conscious.
“We should go back inside.” I wouldn’t be surprised if my arms had turned blue.
“Not until I’ve said what I need to say.”
“That’s up to you, but receptionists have a hotline to secretaries, who have a hotline to all of Tribe’s top gossips. I estimate the news of us standing out here holding hands is going to hit Stella’s iPhone in approximately seven minutes and thirty-two seconds.”
It's Complicated (The Agency Book 2) Page 27
