The Grey Woman: You never know who's watching Page 9

  I still feel confused and it must show on my face because he says, “What?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but that was weeks ago. I would have thought the shares would have been sold much sooner than this. Why didn’t Mr Slater’s contact buy them immediately?”

  “Because the company was still trading normally. They have been chipping away at it over the weeks, a little comment in the right ear and a few rumours cast. When you overheard their meeting, the share price was normal. Over the last few weeks, they have created the decline and the markets get very panicked at the merest hint of something going wrong. They wanted this company on the brink before they bought it, which is why I am so pleased with your information. It enabled me to buy the shares at a knock down price before they got their manipulating hands on them. If I sell, I make a substantial profit, if I stay, I make an even greater one. So, thanks to you, I am considerably richer than I was before, as are the clients I instructed to buy. So, for that reason alone, I will overlook your earlier indiscretion and as a reward, treat you to lunch.”

  I just stare at him in total surprise and he raises his eyes. “Problem, Mrs Carter?”

  “Um… no, thank you, sir.”

  “Then you may go.”

  I say no more and head back to my desk, completely confused. How have I gone from hating him one minute to looking forward to spending time with him the next?

  Maybe it was how I felt when he looked at me with such excitement in his eyes as he shared his good fortune. It could have been when he massaged my ego with tales of how my information made such a difference, or could it be because whenever he looks at me with those velvet brown eyes, something stirs deep inside me. Something I thought was lost years ago and something I thought I’d never feel again. Infatuation.

  17

  I don’t report him to Harriet. I don’t even harbour any ill feeling towards him. Instead, I look forward to my lunch date with my boss with a mixture of dread and anticipation. The last lunch I shared with anyone was Ronnie on the day he opened up a can of worms that led to the situation we’re in now. I wonder what this lunch will be like compared to that one?

  So, at precisely 1pm, he heads outside his office with his tailored jacket slung over his shoulder and looking hotter than any man has the right to look during the working day and nods.

  “Ready?”

  Quickly, I gather my belongings and almost have to run to keep up with him as he strides towards the lift.

  He makes no conversation and I wouldn’t know what to say if he demanded it. I’m coming to the conclusion that it’s better to wait to be asked than to offer any form of dialogue with this complicated man.

  We step inside the lift and he punches the button for the ground floor and leans against the mirrored walls of the elevator. “You intrigue me, Mrs Carter, or can I call you Emma?”

  I say in surprise, “You’re seriously asking me that?”

  “What?” He looks puzzled and I laugh softly, probably the first time I have in his company. “You don’t strike me as the type who would ask for anything. I’m guessing if you wanted to call me by my first name, you would and not care if it concerned me or not.”

  “You have a very low opinion of me, Emma.” He raises his eyes and I see a hint of mischief in them.

  “I do.”

  Shrugging, he yawns loudly and then says slightly irritably, “To be honest, you’re right. I do what I want, when I want, and to whom I want.”

  Suddenly, the air is sucked out of the metal-lined box we are travelling in and I feel my pulse racing dangerously. He stares at me long and hard and says darkly, “Does that worry you… Emma?”

  He whispers my name so softly I almost don’t hear it and find myself fixated on the mouth of the man who sets me on edge. I lean back against the walls for support and say nervously, “I don’t know.”

  “What don’t you know?”

  “How I feel about you.”

  He looks at me with a cocky smile and it doesn’t surprise me. This man knows full well how powerful he is, which is why he gets away with things no ordinary person would. But he’s no ordinary man. No man can hold a candle to this one because he broke the mould when he was created. Cocky, sure of himself and so sexy he should be kept locked away for the protection of society. Paired with a hard edge, he’s brutal and cold and dangerous through and through and I have never wanted anyone as much as I do him.

  We reach the lower floor and he stands straight and without a backward glance strides from the lift as if he owns the world. I actually think he does because the charisma that surrounds him is a powerful force.

  As I scurry behind him, I see the women straighten up and their expressions soften, hoping for his gaze to fall onto them. It doesn’t. He ignores absolutely anyone who crosses his path, even the suited men who obviously play a major role in the running of this company.

  He sees no one and just heads outside without even checking I’m behind him.

  A car is waiting – which doesn’t surprise me, and the man that holds the door open nods respectfully as Julian climbs inside with no care for chivalry. I head around to the other side and the man follows me and opens the door courteously. Smiling brightly, I say loudly, “Thank you, you’re very kind.”

  He nods and closes the door behind me.

  Inside, the luxury of the car envelops me. Black leather on every surface and gleaming chrome. This car is as clean as if it just left the showroom, and it wouldn’t surprise me if it had. I can imagine even cars are disposable to Julian Landon, and I feel a shiver of desire as the power of the man sucks me in and ruins me forever.

  Yes, Julian Landon will ruin me, and if I’m sure of anything, it’s that.

  After ten minutes of silence while he checks his phone and demands no conversation, we pull up outside a smart looking restaurant with a black-and-white striped canopy outside. The man on the door is dressed in a fine red livery, and he opens the passenger door with respect and reverence. Julian moves past him without any acknowledgement and feeling embarrassed, I mouth ‘Thank you’ to the man and get a smile of appreciation in return.

  We are met by a suited man who obviously excels at what he does because he says smoothly, “Good afternoon, sir, madam, your usual table is waiting.”

  As expected, Julian strides through the smartest restaurant I have ever seen as if he owns it and it wouldn’t even surprise me if it turned out that he did.

  We follow the man to a table by the window and it is obviously the best table they have because it’s both private and yet offers the customer the best view of both the room and the street outside. I take in the starched white tablecloth and polished silver cutlery. The crystal glasses sparkle in the sunlight and the flowers in the centre are fresh and seasonal. The candle that burns low in the glass holder mocks me as if it knows I don’t belong here and the padded seats that look both delicate and comfortable wait for us to sit and take delight in the poshest lunch I will probably ever have.

  Then it strikes me that there are three seats and three place settings. Somebody is joining us; I wonder who it is.

  I am soon put out of my misery because almost instantly I hear a well-educated drawl, “Darling, I’m sorry I’m late.”

  I look up in surprise and do a double take because the woman joining us is stunning. She could be a supermodel and immediately I compare my own conservative suit with her white, silk trouser suit and costly jewellery that sparkles from her neck, her ears, her wrist and her fingers. Her long dark hair is styled beautifully and her make-up looks as if it was done professionally. I think I just stare open-mouthed as she air kisses Julian and looks at me dismissively as she takes her seat.

  Julian smiles and I can’t help feeling he is enjoying this way too much as he looks at me and says easily, “Meet Cressida, my beautiful wife.” Then he turns to her and says softly, “Darling, this is Emma, she’s replaced Claire and today is her first day, so be gentle with her.”

  His wife flicks her supe
rior gaze over me and then dismisses me out of hand, saying slightly irritably, “You could have told me you were bringing your staff.”

  “Why should I?”

  His tone is sharp and as if he couldn’t care less, and she sighs irritably. “Because I wanted to spend time with you alone. We have things to discuss.” She looks at me and says tightly, “In private.”

  Watching the two of them is interesting to say the least because they act like mere acquaintances instead of husband and wife. I detect no warmth, no genuine feeling, or even a mutual like for one another. This couple are as empty as Ronnie and I and it takes me all of two minutes to work that out.

  Julian shrugs and consults his menu and as the waiter hovers nearby, he actually clicks his fingers and I look at him in disbelief as he says in a voice that demands no argument, “We will all have the house special menu with a bottle of Dom Perignon. Three bottles of water and a garden salad.”

  He snaps the menu closed and the waiter heads off, leaving me speechless. What just happened, don’t we even get to choose our own meals?

  His wife doesn’t appear bothered and just looks irritated by him and snaps.

  “Fine, have it your way. Now, remember I’m off to Paris tonight for a couple of days. I’ll be taking the helicopter and the pilot.”

  “I bet you are.” I allow my thoughts to entertain me far more than this couple of wax works and smirk as I take a sip of water, giggling inside at the way Julian’s eyes flash as he watches me.

  “The girls are home this weekend and I have arranged activities that should keep them out of your hair for the duration. Nicola is going to take them out for a few excursions and she arranged for the Glastonbury’s children to visit and attend a sleepover.”

  He looks alarmed and she smiles a little maliciously and says, “I’m sure you’ll cope, darling, maybe one of your lady friends can step up and actually be of some use for a change.”

  I can’t believe they don’t remember I’m sitting here as I stare at my place setting awkwardly. This is awful and I wish I was having a sandwich at Pret a manger, in fact, McDonald’s would do because this is excruciating.

  Julian says with an acid tongue. “You should know about entertaining friends, my darling, you’re getting in quite the practice. Maybe you would like to introduce me to these so-called friends of yours one day, that would be interesting.”

  Her eyes flash and she hisses. “I could say the same for you, darling. I had to have the whole house deep cleaned after my last little trip away because of the stench of cheap trashy perfume that lingered on my bedsheets.”

  Quickly, I stand and say, “Um… if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Sit down.”

  His voice is like a whip bringing me to my knees and I sit, shaking in my seat as the waiter delivers the champagne. There is silence as he pours the sparkling liquid into the glasses and then hurries away nervously. My hand shakes as I reach for the glass and for the first time Cressida looks at me and says sharply, “Good luck with your new job, you’re going to need it. Maybe you can do me a favour and keep my husband happy and away from me because god knows I can’t stand to be a minute more than I have to.”

  She stands quickly and throws her napkin to the table. “Au revoir, darling, and enjoy your lunch. Don’t think I don’t know you engineered this little threesome just to avoid the conversation we should really be having. See you next Tuesday, darling.”

  She smirks and strides from the restaurant, and I can’t help but giggle inside. I think I hold just a little tinge of respect for Cressida because she has done what I’m guessing nobody else would ever dare to, make her husband look like a complete fool in public.

  18

  “Did my wife amuse you, Emma?”

  I am trying not to laugh, but the light must dance in my eyes because I just nod. “A little.”

  Luckily, the waiter comes with our salad and I look at it in astonishment. If I was expecting a plate of limp lettuce, I was sorely mistaken. It’s as if they have raided the gardener’s world allotment and provided a representation of every variety of salad item going. My stomach growls as I stare in admiration at the food, and Julian laughs.

  “You like it?”

  Nodding, I pick up my fork with an eagerness that kicks any manners I have into touch. “It looks – amazing.”

  He looks pleased and nods.

  “You may eat.”

  I look at him in surprise and he grins. “You will soon learn that I like to call the shots, Emma. Word of advice – let me.”

  Shrugging, I start forking the food into my mouth quicker than normal because every mouthful tastes so good. I have to remind myself not to groan out loud because I’ve never eaten a salad as tasty as this one.

  I can feel his eyes on me as I power through the plate and after a while says a little tersely, “My wife’s a bitch.”

  I think I stop chewing and just pretend I never heard him. Then he sighs and pushes his plate of food away.

  “What do you see when you look at me, Emma?”

  I look at him in surprise, unsure what to say. On the one hand, I see someone who interests me way too much given how rude he is and on the other, I see a man who has it all. Deciding to stick with the safer option, I say carefully, “I think you have it all.”

  Sighing, he pushes his plate away and stares moodily out of the window.

  “That’s what they all see but they couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  I’m not sure if he realises that I’m still sitting here because he has an expression on his face that shows he is far away somewhere in his mind that only tortured souls go. There is a lost look about him and it’s as if he’s let his guard down and it’s an amazing sight to see. I watch him with shock mixed with pity because this man is different to the one I came here with. He is almost human and my first instinct is to wrap him up and tell him everything will be ok. I’m not sure why I feel the need to, but it’s the sheer helplessness of his expression that calls out to me and makes me want to step up and make it all better.

  Then he appears to snap out of it and looks at me with a razor-sharp stare.

  “Are you happy, Emma?”

  His question takes me by surprise and I go with my first instinct, “Of course.”

  Leaning forward, he stares deep into my eyes and whispers, “Liar.”

  I feel the heat spreading through me and it’s not just because he obviously sees deep inside my soul. It’s because he is looking at me with that look, the one that says he is more interested in me than any employer has any right to be. The look of a man interested in a woman for his own pleasure and the one that says he knows he can just click his fingers and I’ll come running in every way.

  Struggling to get a grip, I fix him with a blank stare, even though inside my hormones are raging out of control. “No, I’m not.”

  He smirks and I see the excitement spark in his eyes as he whispers huskily, “You can’t hide from me, Emma. I see the way you look at me. You are like an open book to me. You try to hide it but from the moment you walked into my office uninvited, I saw the interest in your eyes and I watched with amusement the lengths you went to get ahead.”

  My mouth is dry and my heart thumps as the man before me analyses me so correctly. He carries on. “I had every reason not to give you this job, Emma. You are unqualified, inexperienced and completely the wrong person for the job. You don’t fit in and ordinarily would never have got past the first draft of applicants.”

  An uneasy feeling creeps over me as I sense the final blow about to be delivered and feel anxious, afraid and as if my entire world could crumble at any second as I stand on the precipice waiting for him to push me over the side.

  He leans forward and I feel his breath touch my face, caressing it like the coolest, calming breeze. He says in a slightly husky voice, “I saw a lot of me in you and who couldn’t be impressed by that.”

  He smirks and I feel my hand itching to wipe it off his face because
he is so sure he has the measure of me. As I think about it, it annoys me to realise he has. He has seen through my charade and found me lacking. Men like that can smell fear, and he knows I’m now in a world I have no business occupying. He knows I’m one of them, the invisible workers who pass by him every day; never seen, heard, or acknowledged in any way. Women like me don’t sit in fancy restaurants mixing with the ones that have it all. We serve them, so I look down with shame and feel the tears build as I realise I’ve made a huge mistake.

  His tone softens as he says, “Look at me.”

  I hold my breath as I raise my eyes to his and he stares at me with a keen, searching look and says firmly, “Never show weakness and always look a person in the eye, even if you have no right to. Always believe you matter and have the upper hand whether you are right or not. Never let anyone see your weakness and face them with a challenge because if you show an ounce of fear, they will go in for the kill. It no longer matters who you were before you entered my world, it’s the person you are now that counts. I don’t like weakness in my staff and I employed the strong woman in you, not the quivering wreck you are showing me now. Can you be that strong assistant I need, Emma?”

  I gasp and know that in this moment I would just about agree to anything he asks me and nod vigorously, “Of course, I can be what you need.”

  I’m not sure why I even added that last sentence but we both know I mean every word because he leans back in his chair with a wicked glint in his eye and a smug expression on his face as he realises he’s got me cornered.

  He says sharply, “Then I want you to find out everything possible about my wife and give me something I can use to bring her to her knees. Don’t let me down, Emma, because I won’t accept failure on this.”

  “But…” I can’t even form words and as the waiter arrives to take our empty salad plates, I just stare at my boss with a stunned expression. As soon as the waiter leaves, I whisper fearfully, “But how? I’m not a private detective, you know.”