by Penny Jordan
He was frowning again, and Mark wondered bitterly what else Ryan had had to say; the man was a chancer, an aggressor, a privateer who fed off the weakness of others. He wouldn’t just enjoy the opportunity to boost his side of the business and rate its importance over theirs, he would also have great personal satisfaction in putting Peter himself down… Peter or any other man. Ryan wasn’t the sort who could ever accept anyone else as his equal, and he could certainly never be subservient to anyone.
‘The partners saw my point, of course,’ Peter was saying, ‘but nevertheless…’
Mark guessed what was coming. He had sensed weeks ago now that the promotion he had originally been promised when he’d joined the practice was not going to be forthcoming.
‘I’m sorry, Mark, but it won’t be for very long. Charles will be retiring at the end of next year, and then of course naturally you will be in charge of the two combined sections, and in the meantime with both sections under his overall supervision that at least will free you to have more time to search actively for new business…’
Mark stared at him. His heart was pounding heavily and sickly; he could feel the pressure building up inside his stomach, the nausea and tension. His skin felt hot and cold at the same time, burning one second and then clammy with the ice-cold sweat of dread the next.
‘Are you saying that my section is going to be amalgamated with Charles Sawyer’s?’ he managed to ask.
Peter was avoiding looking directly at him. ‘The senior partners felt it would be for the best. As I said, it will at least free you to——’
‘I’m an accountant, not a salesman!’ Mark exploded.
This was far, far worse than he’d expected. He had come into Peter’s office prepared to hear that the promotion he had been promised would not be forthcoming, but to learn as well that he was effectively being demoted, control of his own section taken away from him, and to be told that he had to go out and get new business… He could feel his face, his whole body burning with the humiliation of it. No wonder Peter couldn’t look him in the eye. He felt like a pariah… a leper… a failure… and it was all Ryan’s doing. Ryan, who… He had to get out of Peter’s office. If he stayed any longer he would only say something he might later regret.
Like telling him to tell Ryan what he could do with his job? Was that perhaps what they… Peter, Ryan, the senior partners… actually wanted? Did they—were they deliberately trying to humiliate him so much professionally that he did leave? After all, with his section combined with Charles’s, what real need did they have of him?
More time to get new business… and just how the hell was he supposed to do that?
‘I really am sorry, Mark,’ Peter was saying. ‘But, as I said, Charles will be retiring soon, and of course there’s no question of your having to take any reduction in salary… It’s just as well Deborah didn’t join you on this side of the business. I believe she’s doing very well, by the way. Ryan was singing her praises to the senior partners. They weren’t too happy about his intended promotion of her to take charge of this liquidation, but he assured them that she’s up to handling it.’
It was five o’clock when Mark left Peter’s office. The room he shared with the others was empty; after all, what need was there for any of them to work late? He frowned as he read the message on his desk. ‘Deborah rang 4:00.’
He picked up his telephone receiver and then put it down again. It would be just as easy to walk over to her office.
* * *
The door was open and she was speaking to someone on the phone when he walked in. As he waited for her to finish he mentally compared the office she shared with her colleagues with his: it seemed lighter, brighter; the very air seemed to breathe energy and enthusiasm. There were flowers on her desk and half a dozen fat files.
He could feel something painful and bitter twist in his stomach. It wasn’t jealousy, he told himself as she replaced the receiver and smiled at him. How could he be jealous of Debs? He loved her…
‘Mark…’
She stopped speaking, her attention switching from him to Ryan as he strode into the room, pushing back the door with arrogant disregard for anyone standing close to it.
‘Sorry, Mark,’ he apologised insincerely. ‘Didn’t see you standing there.’
‘I just came to see if you were ready to leave yet,’ Mark told Deborah curtly, ignoring Ryan.
‘Sorry, Mark,’ Ryan repeated before Deborah could speak. ‘You’re too late; Debbie already has a date at the wine bar—with me…’
Debbie… since when had Ryan been calling her Debbie? She hated anyone calling her that. Mark could feel his hackles rising and his face starting to flush with anger and resentment. He knew that Ryan was deliberately trying to rile him and make him feel small and that the last thing he should do was to let him see that he was getting to him, but, coming on top of the humiliation of his interview with Peter, it was too much for his self-control.
‘Ryan wants to go over a few points with me about this liquidation,’ he could hear Deborah saying, but he wasn’t really listening to her or focusing on her; instead he was watching Ryan, watching the wolfish pleased-with-himself smile curling on the other man’s face. He was enjoying this, Mark knew; enjoying putting him down, making him look small, and Deborah was helping him do it… Couldn’t she see that? Couldn’t she see what Ryan was doing? Was she totally blind?
Abruptly his emotions changed shape, anger suddenly dominating them—anger against Deborah for the way she was letting Ryan manipulate her… use her… to get to him.
‘Don’t keep her up too late, will you?’ he heard Ryan laughing as he turned to leave the office. ‘She’s going to have a very busy day ahead of her with this case.’
As he turned into the corridor Deborah followed him.
‘Mark, I’m sorry…’
‘Sorry for what?’ he demanded bitterly. ‘Making me look a fool in front of Ryan? Well, so am I, and——’
‘What… what are you talking about? I was just going to say I was sorry I hadn’t managed to let you know I’d be working late… How did your meeting with Peter go?’
‘Working… in the wine bar? Come off it—you know as well as I do what he’s up to… and he must think he’s in with a damned good chance otherwise he wouldn’t bother wasting his time, would he?’ Mark accused her angrily.
He caught her fiercely indrawn breath and knew he had gone too far, knew that his accusation was baseless and unfounded, but his own emotions were too raw for him to be able to draw back from it and admit that he was wrong, too raw for him to explain. Any minute now and Ryan would come striding into the corridor flashing that wolfish grin of his, throwing his weight around.
‘Haven’t you got to go?’ he asked Deborah tensely, adding sarcastically, ‘After all, we mustn’t keep your date waiting, must we… ?’
‘Problems?’ Ryan asked Deborah when she walked back into the office.
‘No,’ she denied.
‘Mmm… I just thought poor old Mark didn’t look too pleased.’
‘I’d forgotten that we’d arranged to go for a meal,’ Deborah lied.
‘Ah, I see… Well, then, since you’re missing out on a meal as well as his company, perhaps I’d better feed you as compensation.’
He knew damn well she was lying about the reason for Mark’s bad temper, Deborah was sure of it, and now she was trapped into having a meal with him, which was the last thing she wanted.
Why on earth had Mark behaved like that? Why hadn’t he listened to her… let her explain?
From longing to be with him to talk over her day and her feelings about the liquidation, she was now almost dreading going home.
Dreading going home to Mark? But that was impossible. Unthinkable!
CHAPTER NINE
‘ANOTHER drink?’
Deborah shook her head, starting to tense as Ryan leaned across the table and asked her, ‘What’s wrong? Not still worrying about the boyfriend having a sulk, are you
?’
‘Mark wasn’t sulking,’ Deborah denied quickly. ‘He isn’t that kind of person.’ But she suspected that her body language was betraying her as she moved uncomfortably in her seat and saw the knowing look in Ryan’s eyes.
‘You can’t afford to give this job anything less than one-hundred-and-twenty-per-cent commitment. Let Mark do his own worrying. You can’t solve his problems for him.’ He gave a brief dismissive shrug. ‘He made the wrong choice and now he’s paying for it… tough. OK, so no one likes being demoted, but he must have seen what was coming, and in his shoes…’
‘Demoted… ?’ Deborah stared at him.
‘Ah, he hasn’t told you yet…’ He gave another small shrug. ‘Look, let me get you that drink and we can——’
‘No… no, I really can’t stay.’
If what Ryan was saying was true, then no wonder Mark had seemed so on edge and touchy. But why hadn’t he said something to her… why hadn’t he shared his feelings with her the way she had always done with him? As Ryan had just said, Mark must have had some inkling of what was going to happen.
Now pride battled against anxiety as she fought down the temptation to ask Ryan exactly what was going to happen.
Mark would hate the thought of her discussing him with Ryan, she knew that, and yet surely he must have realised that Ryan was likely to say something to her. Hadn’t it occurred to him how hurtful it would be for her to hear something like that from someone else?
‘It bothers you, doesn’t it?’ Ryan asked softly now, causing her to focus unhappily on him and be betrayed into insisting otherwise.
‘No… I…’
‘Yes, it does,’ Ryan insisted. ‘After all, if he can keep something like that hidden from you, just think of the other things he might not have told you.’
As she gritted her teeth Deborah tried to remind herself that Ryan was being deliberately manipulative; that situations such as this were meat and drink to him; that he loved pitting people against one another, that he loved confrontation.
‘He only saw Peter this afternoon,’ she pointed out, trying to remain calm. ‘He hasn’t had much opportunity to tell me.’
Ryan laughed. ‘Nice try, but it won’t work. Think about it, Deborah. Either the man’s so much of a fool that he didn’t know what was coming, or he knew and chose not to tell you; either way… You’re a very intelligent woman, Deborah, and a very beautiful one. You need a man who can match you… help you… teach you… not a boy still crying for his mother.’
Deborah could hear his contempt for Mark in his voice and she could hear something else as well. Up until now she had always put Ryan’s sexual flirtations towards her down to a simple, meaningless flexing of his male muscles, an automatic showing off of his sexuality, and she had accordingly distanced herself from it and ignored it, treating it as a facet of her working life which was irritating rather than dangerous.
Now she wondered a little uneasily if she had been too sanguine. There had been a very definite sexual warning in the way Ryan had just looked at her, the way he had spoken to her, and the way she herself for a moment had felt that small dangerous awareness of coming close to being flattered by his interest in her. Ryan was a very experienced seducer, she reminded herself, who well knew a woman’s vulnerabilities and how to play on them.
He was also her boss and a married man, and, even if all her love and her loyalty had not been given to Mark, that combination was surely so notoriously explosive that no woman who valued either her emotional or financial security would ever risk getting involved.
Ninety per cent of her appeal to Ryan was the fact that she was unavailable, and almost all of the remaining ten per cent was probably caused by the fact that he enjoyed putting one over on another man… in this case Mark, she told herself wryly. The fact that Mark had not discussed his work problems with her was a personal issue to be discussed between the two of them, and she was no gullible girl, to fall into the tempting trap Ryan was setting for her.
‘It’s kind of you to offer me a fatherly shoulder to cry on, Ryan,’ she said firmly now. ‘But I know you didn’t bring me here to discuss my personal affairs.’ She gave him a wide, disingenuous smile, concealing her amusement as she watched his brief tell-tale reaction to her description of him as fatherly.
‘I appreciate the help and advice you’ve given me professionally. I really have to leave now, though…’
‘Running away…?’ Ryan taunted her softly, quickly rallying.
Deborah ignored him. ‘I’ve got some reading up I want to do.’
He didn’t make any further attempt to persuade her to stay but, as they left the wine bar, he turned to her and told her, ‘Sooner or later you’re going to have to make a decision—you know that, don’t you? He can’t keep pace with you, Deborah, and you’re either going to have to accept that or risk losing everything you’ve worked for. You’re not doing either yourself or him any favours by letting him cling to you. A real man wouldn’t do it. He’d want to sink or swim by his own endeavours…’
‘Mark is a real man,’ Deborah told him, suddenly very, very angry with him, ‘and he’s all the man that I need and want…’
‘Then you’re a fool,’ Ryan told her brutally.
* * *
Her temper was still up when she let herself into the flat.
Mark was lying on the sofa, an empty glass on the floor beside him next to the foil dishes which had obviously contained a takeaway meal. The smell of it hung in the air. The sight of it, the message of solitude and defeat both it and he were screaming quietly and accusingly at her, darkened her anger to guilt.
Mark had neither spoken to her nor looked at her; he was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed as he focused on the music being fed to him through the earphones he was wearing. Was he sulking? Or punishing her?
She frowned, pushing the thought away, forcing herself to smile and sound cheerful as she stood in front of him and touched his arm. He opened his eyes but did not remove the earphones.
‘Chinese… mmm… I’m starving too…’
‘Didn’t he offer to feed you? Perhaps he thought he wouldn’t be able to push it through on his expenses…’
‘I did say we were only going for a quick drink,’ Deborah pointed out mildly as she bent down to pick up the detritus of his meal.
When she walked back into the sitting-room he was still lying on the sofa. She walked over to him, removing the earphones despite his protest, and demanded quietly, ‘Mark, why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Tell you what?’ he demanded truculently.
‘About your…’ she hesitated over using the word demotion and substituted instead ‘your… job…’
‘My job…’ His mouth twisted bitterly as he sat up. ‘What job?’ he asked her. ‘I don’t have a job any more… just a share in someone else’s… My God, when I think of what I gave up to come here… If I’d stayed on in London…’ He got up, pacing the floor. ‘No need to ask who told you, and I bet he enjoyed it as well. Smug bastard——’
‘You could always have told me yourself,’ Deborah interrupted him pointedly. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked him, her emotions getting the better of her as she pushed her hair back off of her face and sat down opposite him.
‘When?’ he asked her harshly. ‘You’ve been far too busy to listen to anything I might have wanted to say recently.’
Deborah stared at him in disbelief as she heard the petulance in his voice, saw it in his face. She couldn’t believe he was behaving so childishly. He had always seemed so mature, so secure.
‘After all, why the hell should you listen to me?’ he added bitterly. ‘You’ve got far more important things to think about. My God, it’s ironic, isn’t it? When we first came here I was the one with the glowing future… the promised promotion…
‘Do you know what Peter told me today? He said it wasn’t good enough just to be an accountant; I had to be a salesman as well. A salesman… I can guess where that came
from… your boss knows all about selling, doesn’t he? After all, he sold himself when he married into the partnership. Well, if that’s what it takes to succeed, I’d rather be a loser and——’
‘Mark, you aren’t a loser!’ Deborah protested, interrupting him. ‘It’s the recession that’s responsible for the loss of business, not…’
‘Not me personally. Thanks, yes, I do know that… Pity I didn’t follow your example, isn’t it? Then I might be able to brag about my promotion and my new company car.’
Deborah stared at him, her face starting to flush with anger.
‘That’s not fair… I can understand how you must be feeling, but——’
‘Can you… can you…?’ Mark interrupted her. ‘Can you understand how it feels when a shit like Ryan stands there smirking at you, gloating… ?’
Deborah didn’t know what to say. His behaviour was so out of character and unfamiliar to her. She could understand his being upset—anyone would have been—but his comments about her… about Ryan… they were not what she had expected to hear from him.
‘It’s only a temporary set-back,’ she told him. ‘Things are bound to pick up, and when they do…’
‘Oh, for God’s sake… Don’t you understand anything? This isn’t just about the recession… It’s…’ He stopped abruptly.
‘It’s about what?’ Deborah pressed him.
Mark shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m tired… I’m going to bed…’
Deborah watched him unhappily. His behaviour was childish and unfair.
‘No,’ she contradicted him quietly. ‘You can’t leave it like that, Mark, and you know it. I am sorry about what’s happened and I felt very hurt this evening hearing about it from Ryan and not from you. I know I’ve been wrapped up in this liquidation, but…’
‘Why shouldn’t you be? After all, you’ve always made it plain enough how important your career is to you.’
Deborah caught her breath at the thinly veiled accusation behind his words. Now her compassion was being overtaken by anger.
