A Wild Affair: A Novel

by Gemma Townley

  “We're on the front page?” My eyes widened. Campaign news was usually stuck toward the back. This was an incredible profile. Was my name in the article? I wondered. “Is the review good? Are we up for any awards?”

  “Reviews?” Max looked at me strangely. “We haven't launched yet. How can the campaign be reviewed?”

  I felt myself redden. “I thought it might be a pre-review,” I said defensively. “So it isn't a review?”

  “No,” Max said. “That's not what it is.”

  “Oh.” I felt a stab of disappointment. “So what is it then?”

  “It's about Jarvis Private Banking and their acquisition of Glue.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying to look interested. “Oh, well, that's nice.”

  “Not really,” Max said, frowning now. “You see, the article discusses an acquisition that no one is supposed to know about.”

  “Oh, I see,” I said, not really listening.

  “The acquisition which, according to this journalist, will mean a great deal more business for Milton Advertising.”

  “Well, that's great!” I said. “But look, can we just resolve the magician issue so I can email Giles …”

  “Magicians?” Max looked at me incredulously. “Jess, do you understand what I'm saying to you? The acquisition has been leaked and I don't know who by, but the way the article has been written suggests that it was us. Which it wasn't. I've been trying to get hold of Chester but he isn't answering his phone.”

  He finally got my attention. “Shit,” I said, sitting down again and frowning. “But it wasn't us, was it?” Max shook his head. “So … so it must have been one of his people, right?”

  Max looked unconvinced.

  “It's okay,” I said defiantly, knowing it probably wasn't.

  “It's not, though, is it? Chester wouldn't have leaked his own deal. The article makes it look like we leaked it for self-promotion.”

  I grabbed the article and read it properly. As I read, I found myself frowning slightly. Then I frowned some more. And then my blood went cold. In the penultimate paragraph, there was an industry quote. From Hugh Barter. “Milton Advertising have some very ambitious plans and so far it seems that Jarvis Private Banking has been happy to depend on what is really a small, niche advertising player. Whether, as they are suggesting, Jarvis will continue to retain them as a key partner if and when they expand into the Internet banking market is an interesting question—and one that the industry will be watching for the answer with great interest!”

  Hugh Barter. I felt myself going white and prickly; small beads of sweat appeared on my forehead. I vaguely remembered telling him something in that bar, after all those Bloody Marys, something about Jarvis maybe buying an Internet bank.

  Oh God.

  Oh this could be very bad.

  Very bad indeed.

  I remembered my last conversation with Hugh. He'd threatened to spill the beans, and I thought he'd changed his mind. But now he'd done it—with different beans. Beans I'd completely forgotten about. The leak was me. I couldn't believe it. I was the worst person in the whole wide world.

  And Max would never forgive me. Never in a million years.

  “Now do you think it's Chester's problem?” Max asked tightly.

  “What's my problem?” We both swung around to see Chester in the doorway beaming.

  “Hey Max, heard you were trying to get hold of me. Truth is, I was hoping to get hold of you, too.”

  “You were?” I noticed Max's face go slightly white.

  “Well, not you specifically—more your future wife, as it happens.”

  “Me?” I asked, desperately wiping my palms on my skirt. “Really?”

  “About some news that's about to hit,” Chester said. “Something big. Wanted to give you a heads-up.”

  My eyes moved involuntarily to catch Max's, then back to Chester. “News?” Max asked, warily.

  “Big news.” Chester grinned. I felt myself relax. He was fine about it. I hadn't seen him this cheerful for ages.

  “Yes, I guess it is big news,” I said, smiling brightly and shooting Max an “I told you so” look.

  Chester's forehead creased. “You know already?”

  I shrugged. “Chester, news travels fast in this town. You know that.”

  “I guess.” Chester frowned. “But your mother said I couldn't tell you.”

  “She did?” I asked curiously. “Why was she involved?”

  “Why?” Chester laughed. “You Brits and your sense of humor. You know, I think I'm getting there with this whole irony thing, but you know what? Most of the time I have no idea why you find things funny. So look, the big question: Will you be involved?”

  “Will we be involved?” I shot another look at Max. “Well, of course. I mean, I thought that was the idea. I thought you and Max …”

  “Me and Max what?” Chester asked, looking slightly baffled.

  “Um,” I said awkwardly. “Well, I thought the merger meant … I thought …”

  I looked at Max for help, but his eyes were fixed on Chester like he was searching for a clue to what he was talking about. And then Chester's face broke into a big grin.

  “Merger? Is that what you call it?”

  I smiled weakly. “Or, you know, acquisition.”

  At this, Chester started to laugh. “Hey, don't say that to your mother. She won't like it one bit.”

  “She won't?” I asked uncertainly.

  “Hell no. Start telling people I've acquired her and my life won't be worth living.” He grinned. “So anyway, what do you say. You'll be her bridesmaid, won't you?”

  “Her … her bridesmaid?” I stared at him, my head spinning.

  “You and Esther are getting married?” Max asked suddenly. “Chester, congratulations.”

  “Well yeah, I thought you knew,” Chester said, his eyes clouding with confusion. “I thought that's what we were talking about. Don't tell me I broke the news to you. Esther's going to kill me. She wanted to tell you herself. I guess I thought she must have done it already …”

  My eyes felt like they'd expanded to roughly the size of my head.

  “Married,” I managed to gasp. “But you've only known each other for … You hardly even …”

  “It's the best news you could possibly have brought us,” Max interrupted, shooting me a glance. “And Chester, you'll have to forgive our reaction. You see, Jess guessed, didn't you, darling. She thought it was in the offing, anyway. I was less sure, but shows how much I know about anything. Anyway, hence the confusion. So Chester, can I offer my warmest congratulations. Absolutely wonderful news. Isn't it, Jess?”

  He smiled encouragingly at me and I managed to nod. “Married,” I said again, my voice even more breathless this time. “You're marrying my mother.” Whom you only met a few weeks ago, I wanted to add incredulously, but stopped myself.

  “You see how delighted she is?” Max said. He walked over to Chester, shooting out a hand to squeeze mine briefly on the way, and enveloped him in a hug. “We both are. We really are.”

  “Well, that's mighty good of you,” Chester said, warmly returning Max's hug, then looking at me and opening his arms wide. “What do you say, Jess? Gonna give your new stepdaddy a hug?”

  I gulped. A few weeks ago I'd been an orphan. Now I had a mother and a stepfather? A stepfather who was also my biggest client?

  I managed to stumble toward him. He hugged me and I did my best to hug him back.

  “Such … great … news …,” I said.

  Chester released me and shrugged bashfully. “Ah, look at you all choked up. You should have seen your mother. In pieces she was.”

  “She was?” I asked. I couldn't imagine my mother in pieces.

  “So have you set a date?” Max asked. “Thought through any of the details?”

  “Oh, no,” Chester said. “I'll leave all that to Esther. You know me, I'm the big-picture guy. I let other people worry about the details.”

  “Sounds sens
ible.” Max smiled. “I really am delighted for you.”

  “Well thanks,” Chester said, grinning broadly. “I have to say, I'm pretty excited about it myself. I know I haven't known that lady long, but whether it's business or pleasure, I know what I want when I see it, and I've learned that there ain't no good waiting around for someone else to snap it up. Am I right?”

  “Absolutely,” Max said. He was grinning back, but the grin didn't quite reach his eyes, which were still anxious, still stressed. “You couldn't be more right.”

  “Bloody hell,” I said. “So you're really marrying her? I mean, you know, congratulations. It's just … Wow.”

  “Yeah, wow,” Chester agreed. “And we were hoping that the two of you might join us for drinks tonight. By way of a celebration.”

  “Drinks? With my mother?” I looked at Max, who nodded.

  “We'd love to, Chester,” he said quickly. “We'd be delighted.”

  Chapter 15

  “WHAT THE HELL am I going to call him?”

  I was standing in front of the mirror, staring at myself nervously. I was wearing the outfit I'd first picked out—a skirt, some heels, a smart top—but the bed was strewn with clothes that I'd subsequently tried on and rejected. I'd even called Helen for counsel, and after she had shrieked at the news, even she couldn't come up with a suitable outfit for having a drink with your prospective stepfather and biggest client when they were the same person. When you were also sitting on a time bomb of huge magnitude that was liable to go off at any time. At least Max seemed a bit better. I'd spouted a whole load of bullshit on the way home, telling him that Chester must know about the article by now, and if he wasn't worried about it, then Max shouldn't be. And to my surprise, Max had nodded and told me that I was right and his face had seemed a little less gray ever since, although I suspected he was just trying for my benefit. I, on the other hand, was feeling grayer by the hour. By the minute, in fact. The shame was simply unbearable.

  “Call him?” Max peered over the top of his laptop. He was sitting on the bed where I'd stationed him an hour ago, still in his work clothes. That was the thing with men—they could wear the same suit every single day and every single evening if they really wanted to, and no one would bat an eye. They had no idea how lucky they were.

  “Yes, call him,” I said, perching next to him, relieved to have something else to think about other than Glue, Hugh Barter, and the fact that I had betrayed the man I loved.

  “Chester? Stepdad? Dad?” I shuddered.

  “Why don't you ask him?”

  I stood up again. “No,” I said firmly. “Just in case he suggests something I don't like.”

  “What do you want to call him?” Max asked.

  I wrinkled my nose. “Chester,” I said. “I like just plain old Chester.”

  “So there we are. Call him Chester.”

  “And you think I look okay?”

  Max's eyes flicked up briefly. “You look lovely. You looked lovely an hour ago when you were wearing exactly the same clothes. In fact, you always look lovely. Why are you stressing anyway? You see Chester almost every day.”

  “I know.” I sighed. I couldn't tell Max that it wasn't Chester I was worried about, wasn't my appearance that was really vexing me. Couldn't tell him the real reason for my anxiety. And then I realized that there was something else vexing me. Something that I could talk to Max about.

  “Why did it have to be her?” I said suddenly. Max frowned.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, why did he pick her? Why did she have to pick him? Why Chester? He's my client. And now he's going to be her husband instead. It changes everything.”

  Max closed his laptop. “Jess, are you okay?”

  I shrugged. “I'm fine.”

  “You don't seem fine.”

  “I just …”

  “You think he's going to take her away from you? Just when you've found your mother again?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Have you been watching Dr. Phil again?” I asked sternly. He threw a pillow at me.

  “See? I try to be a caring, sensitive man and you take the piss out of me,” he complained. “What am I meant to do?”

  I managed a grin. “You're meant to be long suffering.” I got onto the bed and nestled into his shoulder. I already felt so much better, just talking to Max, just opening up a bit. “I barely know my mother. Chester's welcome to her.”

  “Really?” Max looked at me curiously. “You mean it?”

  “Definitely,” I said, rolling over. “I've gotten along without her so far and I don't need her now. Although she better not get married any time near our wedding. And our wedding is going to be better than hers. Much better.”

  “It's a competition?” Max asked.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Not a competition, no. Although if it were, we'd win.”

  “He seems pretty taken with her.” Max stroked my hair. “And you seem to be taking quite a hard line. Has she upset you?”

  “Chester just doesn't know her that well,” I said, avoiding Max's question. “Anyway, she's pretty flaky. They'll probably call it off in a week or so.”

  “I doubt it. I think they're smitten. Maybe you should cut your mother a bit of slack, Jess.”

  “Me? Cut her slack?” I asked indignantly. “Why should I?”

  “Because you're stronger than her. You're happy. She's not.”

  “If she isn't, it's her own making,” I said lightly.

  “Isn't that a bit harsh?”

  I looked at Max, at kind sweet Max, who always thought the best of people and gave them a fair chance. And I shook my head. “Trust me, she can look after herself. She knows how to make herself happy.”

  “You know she adores you,” Max said.

  I smiled tightly. “Adores me so much she didn't tell me she was marrying my number one client. Yup, I'm certainly feeling the love.”

  “I'm sure she meant to tell you herself. Look, I don't know what's gone on between you lately. I haven't said anything because … well, it's your business, darling. She's your mother and I don't really think it's my place to get involved. But I know how much she wanted to see you, how devastated she was to have lost you. And I also think that Chester makes her really happy. He seems happier, too. So give them a chance. You're such a generous person, Jess. Be generous with her.”

  I opened my mouth to offer a retort, to tell him he knew nothing about my mother, but then I closed it again. He was right, of course he was. And he was Max. Max whom I'd betrayed. I had no right to offer any kind of retort—nothing, in fact, other than deep gratitude. “Well, if that's what you think. If that's what you want.”

  “What I want,” Max said seriously, “is for you to be happy. I know you, Jess. I know how prickly you can be when you're trying to protect yourself. I've experienced it firsthand, remember.”

  “I'm not prickly,” I said, not entirely truthfully.

  “No more than a hedgehog,” Max agreed, pulling me toward him and kissing me.

  “I still think they're rushing into it,” I said defiantly as I found myself kissing him back. “But hey, that's their problem, right?”

  “Indeed it is. And anyway, maybe they're not rushing; they just don't want to waste any time.”

  I pulled back and smiled mischievously. Alone with Max like this I could almost pretend the Hugh Barter situation didn't exist. “So how come it took you several years to even ask me out?” I asked mischievously.

  Max grinned. “Because I was a stupid loser and because you intimidated me,” he said, pulling me toward him again.

  I arched an eyebrow. “Intimidated you? How? I'm not intimidating at all. Anyway, how can you be in love with someone who intimidates you?”

  “You don't intimidate me anymore,” Max said breathily.

  “No?” I raised an eyebrow. “Not even a little bit?”

  “Maybe a little bit,” Max conceded, a twinkle in his eye as he started to unbutton his shirt. “You're clever and
so gorgeous and you've got real integrity. I love that about you—you believe in honesty, like I do. I love that I can trust you completely.”

  I gulped and pulled back. “Honesty? That's pretty boring, isn't it?” I said lightly. “I mean, integrity is pretty overrated, no?”

  “No,” Max said seriously. “No, it isn't.” He was looking right into my eyes and I flushed awkwardly.

  I cleared my throat. “Well, if you say so,” I said. “Although I have to say, I hope I've got other qualities you like …”

  “Like the fact that you never stop talking long enough to allow me to get a word in? Or a kiss?” Max said, planting his lips on mine more firmly this time and moving his hand down to my ass.

  “You know they're due here in twenty minutes.” I giggled.

  “Yes, I do,” Max said, his eyes twinkling as he unzipped my top. “And if you don't shut up, we'll only have fifteen minutes. Okay?”

  Luckily, Chester and my mother were late. Ten minutes late, to be precise, which meant that Max and I had both jumped into the shower (together, to save time; only it didn't save much time at all—it added time—but neither of us was really too worried about it, to be honest) and pulled our clothes back on before they arrived. Max opened the door, while I pulled white wine and apple juice out of the fridge and poured four glasses, smoothing down my wet hair and peering into the small mirror just outside the kitchen to work out whether my red cheeks said “healthy glow” or “just been shagged. Twice.” They screamed the latter, of course, but I didn't care. My mother didn't care about my feelings—why should I care about hers?

  “Darling! So lovely to see you. Is that a glass of juice?” I turned around hurriedly to see my mother advancing toward me. She embraced me, nearly knocking over the glasses in the process, and I inhaled what seemed like a bottle full of perfume. “You look flushed. Are you okay?”

  I nodded. “Perfectly, thanks.” I realized as I spoke that I was fine. Maybe I could even muster some charity for my mother. I was happy; she was happy. Maybe I could be big about this after all. “Here.” I handed her the juice. “So, I guess congratulations are in order.”