Despite everything, I want him to like me. We had such a good time at dinner last night. He was so funny once he relaxed, and I opened up to him more than I’d planned to. I enjoyed his company. And he is respectful of women after all, and—
No. Oh no. Don’t do it, Charley.
I’m being sloppy and sentimental. It’s the exhaustion of lost sleep talking, the stress of the last few months. Alex doesn’t – can’t – matter to me in that way.
I text Jess, not expecting an answer because of the time difference.
Morning sleepyhead, need to talk later. Made a complete fool of myself with Alex this morning. Could do with some advice. C x
As I order another juice and decide whether to wait for Alex as requested or go look for him, my phone vibrates.
Morning, no probs, but now I’m intrigued! Shall have to wait until 2nite to find out what the big mystery is. Until then, advice = whatever it is, keep your cool! J X
Easy for her to say – she isn’t stuck with The Most Gorgeous Man Ever for the entire weekend. Tucking my phone away, I jump as Alex appears beside me, one hand in the pocket of his exquisitely cut trousers, his buttoned-up suit jacket showing off his broad shoulders and flat stomach. Pure lust erupts inside me, along with a vision of the mouth-watering body I caught a glimpse of by the pool. Then Jess’s advice ping-pongs around my head. Keep your cool. It might not be easy to follow, but it is sensible. Winter ice cool, that’s what I’ll go for.
‘Hello,’ I clip politely. ‘Ready?’ I grab my bag and stand up.
‘Yes, thank you.’ His voice is equally bland. ‘Ready to go and run over the PowerPoint presentation?’
‘Yes, thank you. Lead the way.’
After striding across the lobby, we climb a small flight of carpeted stairs leading to a short corridor filled with gold-handled doors. He holds one open for me wordlessly.
‘Thanks.’ I slip into a large conference room, more like a hall. Stepping over to a box-filled table, I tuck my bag away as Alex stalks to the front of the room. ‘I’ll just get set up,’ I call over. ‘Give me five minutes.’
‘No problem,’ he responds distractedly, fiddling with his laptop.
A few minutes later I’m satisfied the name badges, delegate list, notepads and pen pots are laid out properly and walk along the blue-carpeted aisle created by the two sections of chairs set out in lines. Stepping onto the slightly raised stage, Alex is standing at the podium, adjusting the microphone with a deep line cutting between his dark eyebrows.
He gestures to the wireless laptop set on a glass table over to the side and I nod, hustling over to it. Sitting down, I tap a finger on the Enter key and a sign-in screen appears.
‘Password?’ I prompt.
‘Sorry, I didn’t expect it to have gone into sleep mode already.’ I jerk as the words flow directly into my ear, his warm breath sweeping over my cheekbone. A shiver runs up my back. I can’t sigh out loud, so I hold my breath instead. ‘Here.’ Reaching across me, he types his password in whilst I try not to flinch, holding my position as I will myself not to stare at his long lashes and the faint stubble along his jaw. He’s close enough I can smell his trendy male scent. It’s gorgeous; clean, masculine and sexy. Just like him. As I start to unwittingly lean closer, he straightens.
‘Okay?’ he asks.
‘Yes.’ I breathe out.
‘Well?’
‘Yes?’ I swing my head to look at him.
‘It’s ready for you to use.’
I must look blank because he gestures to the laptop, mouth curving in a slight smile. ‘Care to rejoin me on planet Earth so we can get started?’ He pauses. ‘I interrupted your nap earlier, perhaps you’re still tired?’
The mild sarcasm makes me flush. ‘That was an accident. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just didn’t sleep properly last night.’
‘Hmm,’ slipping me a sideways glance, ‘I know the feeling.’
Not sure what he means, I ignore his comment. ‘Look Alex, I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have—’
‘Now’s not the time. Let’s get on with this.’ Not waiting for an answer to his comment, he strolls back to the microphone.
I bite my lip. ‘Fine. But we’ll talk later,’ I mutter crossly under my breath. ‘That’s a promise.’
The next few hours are ridiculously busy. It’s exhilarating, even if not the work I’m used to any more. After syncing the laptop to the massive SMART board above the stage, we run through Alex’s presentation three times before he’s happy with it. He has a clicker to control the slides, but insists I know the timings in case of technical faults, in which case I’ll use the laptop to change the slides.
I greet the few dozen employees and some of the shareholders as they flood in, Alex explaining to me in a low voice that anyone not present can vote by proxy or electronically. Giving out badges, ticking off lists and making small talk, I enjoy the buzz in the air. There are probably about two hundred attendees and they all look pleased to be here.
Whilst coffee is served ahead of the meeting, it strikes me as bitterly ironic to be representing the global umbrella organisation of the company in the capacity of a temporary PA when my ultimate ambition was to fast-track into a promoted position elsewhere in the group. If it weren’t for Tony, one day I might have been attending an AGM as a senior manager. It’s not fair.
Face burning with troubled thoughts, I’m glad when Alex nods at me across the room to get started. I close the doors and dim the lights, hotfooting it onto the stage to join him at the glass table, adjusting the laptop so it’s right in front of me. As Alex rises from his seat, I notice a faint sheen of sweat across his forehead. If it was anyone else I’d wonder if it was nerves, but he’s so self-assured I scrub the idea. Maybe he’s not feeling well.
‘Ready?’ He buttons his jacket and licks his lips. I nod, puzzled. Is he okay? Without another word, he walks over to centre stage.
‘Good morning everyone,’ he says, adjusting the microphone slightly. ‘Are we ready to begin?’ Conversation dies down and people turn their heads to give their full attention. ‘Good,’ he replies, ‘then I’ll start. I’m Alex Demetrio, CEO of Demetrio International.’ I can see his hands where they’re resting on the podium. His fingers are clenched and white, but no trace of doubt shadows his clear, firm voice. ‘Welcome to our AGM.’
The presentation should be boring because I’ve heard it so many times, but it is fascinating because Alex warms after the first few minutes, confidently running through annual reports for the previous year and year to date, explaining the financial forecasts for the forthcoming two. He looks more comfortable and I’m pleasantly surprised when he is wryly humorous about the privileges and pitfalls of running the company. It’s honest and brave and interesting.
‘I also want to thank the senior team and all support staff for their hard work and dedication, which make all the difference to the success of the organisation. The Board of Directors and I truly appreciate the passion and energy of our employees.’ Alex gazes across the audience, taking the time to meet people’s eyes, smiling so widely his cheeks must hurt.
His voice drops slightly and several people lean forward to hear better. ‘I’ve gone through the finances, the strategies and the ambitions, how we’re going to expand, but I want to talk about something else I feel we should focus on over the next three to five years. Something important. Something worth doing. I hope you’ll agree with me and understand why.’ His face becomes serious and I’m mesmerised, like everyone else. ‘What I want to say is this. Every one of us has a responsibility to the companies we run, to each other and to other colleagues, to local economies and markets. But we also have a responsibility to the wider world. That’s why we’ll continue to fund hundreds of charities with a diverse range of good causes, as well as maintain a drive for carbon-neutral working and energy efficiency across the whole organisation. It’s also why there’s an Economic Social Responsibility programme for managers, which includes spending
a month abroad in Africa helping to rebuild villages. I’d like to show you a short film of that now before I continue.’
I can’t help but be inspired by his passion, especially when he plays footage of the organisation’s best and brightest management trainees covered in sweat, caked in mud and heaving cement and bricks in the scorching sun. They interact with smiling villagers, children getting underfoot and kicking footballs to the cameraman against upbeat background music. It’s more usual to see TV celebs or pop stars, or a British prince or two undertaking this kind of work, but even without the glitterati, the short film is moving and captivating and the result at the end is a new school for the community. It’s truly heart-warming. Imagine being able to make that type of difference to people’s lives. Imagine how it must change you as a person, to be something that is so much bigger than yourself. I sigh. I might have gone on the programme if things had turned out differently. The metallic taste of rage floods my mouth. Tony Ferrier has robbed me of so much. I feel sick.
The film ends and Alex reclaims the microphone. ‘What you just saw is the reason we’re proposing to extend the programme from one month to three, open it to other employees and double the number of people we send over there.’ Alex pauses to let everyone adjust to the idea. ‘It’s also why there’s a plan to increase the yearly donations by an extra … ’ My mind boggles as he announces a number with an inordinate number of zeroes. A few men in the front row blanch. One wearing a loud purple tie looks as if he might fall off his chair. I hold back a laugh, wondering how many shares he owns.
‘The other thing I want to suggest is in the information pack you were sent.’ Alex booms. ‘There’s a saying that charity begins at home, but I think we’ve been missing it. My family are from Corfu and the company was started three generations ago by my grandfather, but we’re also British and the UK feels like home.’ His voice wavers for a split second and I wonder if anyone notices. ‘We need to launch more projects in the UK. Community projects in deprived areas, housing where there are shortages, a national apprenticeship scheme so that we can drive down the number of NEETs across the country, that is young people not in education, employment or training. We have an ageing population and no default retirement age, so we need to respect the experience of the older generation while also helping the next into work and out of poverty. We need to take action now and lead from the front and hope that other businesses follow. We’ll improve our corporate image and increase the motivation of our staff, but more importantly we will feel proud.’ He pauses. ‘We will be proud. Who,’ he demands, looking around the room, ‘is with me?’
The room is silent, then clapping begins. I feel like I’m at some political pep rally. I fully expect to see Barack Obama appear with Michelle, but there’s just Alex, who can be both so distant and in the next moment so charming, standing at the front of the stage, charged with compassion and energy. For a moment I lose my breath. He is such a complicated guy, but everything he’s just said fills me with warm positivity.
The rest of the meeting is quick, shareholders approving the previous year’s accounts and dividends per share and voting overwhelmingly in favour of Alex’s plans, ending with the composition of the Board. Everyone is re-elected and Alex seems satisfied as he wraps up, summarising the last slide.
‘Thank you all for your time,’ he says finally, smiling. ‘Now I’m going to go and lie down in a dark room with a glass of Retsina.’ A small laugh erupts from the audience. ‘You’re all welcome to stay for light refreshments next door before leaving, unlike the members of staff staying for breakout sessions and a working lunch, followed by a long afternoon of individual meetings. You know who you are!’ He waits a beat. ‘If there are no questions?’ he addresses the room. ‘Good. Enjoy the food and I wish you all a safe journey home. Thank you. Oh, and a belated Happy New Year to you and your families.’
As Alex steps from the podium, people stand, stretching and chatting and making for the door. I exit the PowerPoint and start shutting down the laptop. I’m really confused. Who is the real Alex? The formal, sharp closed-off guy, or the witty, compassionate one?
I shouldn’t care. It doesn’t matter to me who he is – as long as he believes my story when I need him to.
Chapter Eleven
‘What do you want me to do next?’ I ask Alex as I zip his laptop into its bag.
‘Can you take notes during the group sessions?’ he asks absently, checking his smartphone. ‘They’re rotating coffee breaks with team meetings and group thought showers,’ he continues, swiping a finger across the screen. ‘We need some ideas for a new rewards programme for customers and employees. It’d be helpful if you could capture the ideas.’
‘Sure,’ I say easily, looking over at the small group of managers chatting in the corner. It’s gratifying to see it’s an almost even mixture of men and women. ‘See you later then?’ I sling the laptop bag over my shoulder against my handbag.
‘Hmm?’ He taps something else on the phone. ‘Yes.’
The phone seems permanently attached to either his ear or hand. Would it kill him to look at me when he’s talking to me? With a quiet harrumph, I turn to scoot over to the awaiting group.
‘Charley?’
‘Yes?’ I glance back.
‘Thank you.’ Alex gives me a grateful smile with a flash of white teeth, dark-blue eyes crinkling at the corners.
Almost staggering under the force of it, I return the smile weakly. ‘Uh-huh.’ The man is too bloody gorgeous for his own good.
Hotfooting over to the corner: ‘Hi, I’m Charley, Mr. Demetrio’s assistant for the weekend.’ A round of greetings and a few waves meet my words, with one familiar blonde woman nodding more rigidly. ‘I’m going to take notes of your session,’ I explain. ‘Shall we get started? I think we’re in the room across the hall.’
An hour later I’ve made four pages of notes filled with their ideas and have even contributed a few suggestions, all met with approving nods, though the blonde – Sara Eden – was less enthusiastic. She might have been the woman eyeing Alex up at dinner last night, though I can’t be sure.
Taking notes at three more meetings, it’s soon time for lunch in the main conference hall, which has been arranged with round tables and matching chairs dotted around the room. Sitting with a few managers from the first session, I breathe in the scents of savoury and sweet food, listen to the group gossip about work and partners and kids, and slowly relax, though not enough that my appetite returns.
Staring blankly at the tablecloth, I recall Alex’s remark about having a happy new year. I love the end of one year and the beginning of another. It’s an emotional milestone, not just a fresh page because the month has changed, but a shiny new calendar on the wall. No matter how rubbish the past twelve months have been, you can hope the next twelve will be better. God, the next twelve have to be better for me. It doesn’t feel likely at the moment.
It takes me a minute to realise it’s gone quiet. The man next to me clears his throat and coughs.
‘Are you all right? Do you need some water?’ I query but his attention is fixed above my head. I swing around and notice Alex beside me. ‘Oh.’ Pushing my plate away, ‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’ His gaze flickers over me then round the table. Do I imagine it slides over Sara more quickly than the others, as she flicks her hair and looks at him from under her lashes? ‘Sorry to interrupt.’ He touches my shoulder. ‘I need to talk to you about a few things please?’
‘Of course.’ Standing, I stack my practically full plate in the middle of the table. ‘See you later everyone.’
‘Don’t go without on my account.’ Alex frowns at my food.
‘I’m done thank you. I’m not very hungry.’
His eyes flicker over my body and darken, making me flash burning hot, but he says nothing, gesturing to an empty table across the room.
Following, I smile when he edges a glass of water out of my reach as we sit down. He hasn’t forgotten my clumsiness l
ast night.
‘How are you finding it?’ He leans forward. ‘Everything all right? Any questions?’
Nodding to show it’s all under control. ‘Fine, yes and no. Are you pleased with how it’s going?’
‘Reasonably, yes.’
‘Oh. Only reasonably?’
Searching my face, ‘It’s not a criticism of you. Just other things I need to sort out.’
I give him a relieved smile. ‘Right. But you’d say, if there was anything I needed to improve?’
‘There isn’t.’
‘All right,’ I lower my voice. ‘It’s just that … this morning, by the pool. I owe you an apology—’
‘Oh, that.’ He straightens his tie. ‘Let’s not dwell on it. It’s already forgotten.’
‘Is it? I don’t want to dwell on it, believe me, but you made the comment about me napping and … I don’t want you to think I make a habit of—’
‘I’m sure you don’t,’ he interrupts. ‘And I’m sorry. About my comment.’
‘No, I’m sorry. It was unprofessional,’ my nails curl into my hands and I drop my voice to a whisper, ‘to touch you like that. I didn’t sleep well last night, was a bit fuzzy when you woke me. That’s the only reason it happened.’
‘It was?’ I must imagine the glint of disappointment in his rapidly shuttered gaze. ‘Of course it was.’ Shaking his head: ‘Look, I was a bit hard on you. Let’s just forget it. We’ve other more important things to focus on.’
‘Okay.’ Forget it? I still remember the sensation of his warm stubbly skin under my fingertips, his thick, dark hair soft against my palm. ‘There were things you wanted to brief me about?’
‘Just a reminder you’ll be with me this afternoon taking notes at management meetings.’
The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights Page 33
