Chapter 14
Fourteen
I t was mid-afternoon when Rosie appeared in the doorway to Steph’s office carrying a parcel.
“For you.” She smiled and handed the package to Steph before leaving again.
Steph unwrapped the parcel and found a new phone with the battery and SIM card in place. Turning it on she discovered that it was fully charged and a message alert was already there from Jon.
Before you object, you do need a new phone! One that Simon doesn’t know the number to. Back up your old phone and do not send a text to all contacts or he will know your new number. I will call you later. Jon x
Smiling at the message she was forced to agree that he had a point; moving would be pointless if Simon could still get to her through her phone.
Her desk phone rang and she answered it to find Rosie saying, “Mr Brooker for you.”
“Put him through.” She was already grinning as she responded with her standard, “Stephanie Pryor.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Pryor. How are you this afternoon?” he asked with an obvious smile.
“Not half as good as I was last night.” Her obviously flirtatious reply made him laugh.
“I can certainly relate to that, darling, but I must admit to catching forty winks on the flight over here.”
“That will be the benefit of being the boss because I think my bosses would have objected to me catching forty winks during the business day.” She laughed at the notion of napping on company time which amused her but more than that she laughed at Jon, at his friendly demeanour and the comfortable banter they shared, not just now but generally. Her smile faltered slightly as she realised she was already in over her head and she was going to end up getting hurt.
“Yet another reason to come and work for me because I would insist on at least forty winks after such a magnificent show as last night,” he said quite seriously. “And I am missing you already,” he added making her smile, her earlier thoughts of hurt forgotten.
“Good. Maybe you will rush back now.”
“I will be back as soon as I can. Did you get my delivery?” His voice turned serious.
“Yes, and I was about to get on my high horse about it, but you’re right, so thank you.”
“And have you heard from Roy in property holdings?” he asked now.
“Yes, he called this morning and I am meeting him at the flat after work to sign the lease and then I am going home to my dad’s for a few days, until the flat’s sorted and you’re back. Just in case Simon turns up.”
“Good, I’m pleased. Have you heard from him today?” He sounded concerned.
“Just a text asking to meet up. Maybe . . .” she let her voice trail off.
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe I should meet him and sort it out once and for all,” she said hesitantly.
“Perhaps, but certainly not while I’m in Geneva and not alone. Promise me.”
“I promise, it was just an idea,” she said as if defending herself.
“Okay, darling, but just leave it as an idea for now. I have to go, but I will call you tonight, okay?”
“I look forward to it.”
He hung up and suddenly Steph had the urge to ask if he would be phoning his wife too and who he would phone first. The thought of his possible answer saddened her and again reminded her of what she was and how insignificant she really was in his life.
By Thursday night Steph had found that the week had dragged but looked forward to a call from Jon each night. Her dad had been concerned by her initial request to stay at home for a few days, but after she’d shared the details with Janice about Simon’s erratic behaviour he had seemed relieved to have her there and spoke of Jon in even more glowing terms. Clearly Janice had passed on her deliberately selected pieces of information. She did think that her dad would have been considerably less complimentary about Jon if he knew he was married. She had signed the lease on the flat and although she could move in immediately she was waiting until Jon returned.
After meeting with Miss Roe she felt happier that they each had a better understanding of each other’s position and Steve had thanked her again for smoothing things over. Jack had paid her yet another visit to suggest that he may send Martin to Brookers in her place the following week. He’d sworn her to secrecy making her wonder if he suspected about her and Jon and whether this was all some kind of test. Lindsay had text her old number after returning from honeymoon to invite her to a viewing of wedding photos and the video on Sunday. She had also given her the details of a man she thought would be ideal for Steph who she’d met on the flight home.
Simon had been conspicuous by his absence, but Steph wasn’t sure whether that made her feel more or less nervous. She had been driving to work since Jon had gone away just in case Simon turned up or followed her. She had been shocked at the realisation of just how safe Jon made her feel and also how reliant she’d become on him in such a short time. Thinking about it made her feel a sense of sadness because he was never going to be reliant on her like she was on him as he was married. For the first time she seriously questioned just how long she would be able to do this for, to be his mistress and not want more. Maybe she should research the elusive Mrs Brooker, after all, Jon seemed to live permanently at his flat and there was absolutely no sign of a woman there, except for Steph herself whose belongings were beginning to gather. Yes, that would be the way to go with this, get the low down on the wife and see whether she could compete with her on any level.
Her thoughts were broken by the sound of her new phone ringing. “Hello.” She still felt a little melancholy.
“Hello, darling. Are you okay?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” She sounded angsty and petulant, although the truth was she was hurt and worried about her future with Jon, well, without him.
“I have no idea, but you’re obviously not,” he observed. “So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or just bitch at me?” His own irritation oozed down the phone line.
“Have you phoned your wife?”
“Ah, I see,” he said with a loud sigh.
“What?” she shouted now. “And don’t bloody sigh at me.” She added a pout now, although he wasn’t able to see that.
“You are feeling jealous and insecure,” he stated, ignoring her anger. “We really need to have a conversation about my wife,” he told her. “But I haven’t actually phoned anyone, except you.”
“Really, just me?” she asked feeling happier knowing that she was the only person he had called, unless he was lying and yet she absolutely believed him.
“Yes, just you,” he reiterated.
“I don’t understand how things work with you and your wife.” She felt wary of treading this particular path. Did she really want to know how things were between them?
“Maybe you don’t have to understand at this point . . .” He sounded as confused as she felt. “I don’t know what to say to you, Steph. If she is mentioned you shut it down, even when it’s you who’s raised the subject. I have told you I am not ready to bear my soul and I’m not. You tell me that you don’t want to think about my wife, even less know about her and I respect that, if that’s how you really feel, but then I get this.”
“This?”
“Yes, this. The snapping and sniping. The inferences of what I have or haven’t done. I said I respect what you do and don’t want to know. And I do, but if you don’t want to know then you can’t blame me when your own imagination goes wild,” he said flatly and Steph was ready to agree with everything he’d said and even apologise for her mood, but then he allowed another sigh to leave his lips.
“You need to stop with the fucking sighing. I am not your very understanding wife who turns a blind eye to who you’re shagging, nor am I an employee who hasn’t completed their tasks to your liking, nor an errant child.” Steph was unsure what else she intended to say but before she could say another word he cut her off.
“I am well aware that you’re not my wife or an employee, but the child, I’m not so sure about because you’re certainly acting like one,” he snapped. “Look, I just called to hear your voice and to check that you were okay and I’m not sure that either of those reasons have quite panned out so maybe we should leave it and I will call you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Sadness infiltrated her voice. She wanted to say something light-hearted and witty to engage him in conversation, but obviously she had blown any chance of that for tonight. As they hung up it was a struggle to keep the tears at bay, so she decided that if she went straight to bed when she woke up it would be a new day.
Steph was sitting at her desk the following morning and still feeling a little emotional thinking about her relationship with Jon and the future of it, or lack of one when she decided that she should start her research on Mrs Brooker. She had slept very little the night before and even when she had dropped off she had dreamt of her and Jon and his wife. Every dream had ended the same way; Jon and his wife got the happily ever after while she had been left alone and crying. By four o’clock that morning Steph had decided that she might need to do her own research, answer her own questions about Mrs Brooker in private if only to allow herself some time and privacy to absorb it all and maybe cry a few more tears. She really was the worst mistress in the world . . . she’d reached that conclusion at five o’clock that morning.
She had another hour before she needed to leave her office to go to Brooker’s which was enough time to do a little digging. Getting herself and Rosie a coffee gave her some time to consider what to put into the search engine on her laptop.
She didn’t even know what Mrs Brooker’s name was, so decided to start with what she knew, Jonathan Brooker. As she hit the enter key she felt sick. There were pages of entries and as she sieved through them she found several references to a Mrs Brooker.
She switched to images and as they loaded there were several of him with various pretty young women, and then she saw her, a tall, leggy blonde resting a hand on Jon’s shoulder whilst his arm was draped around her waist and she was absolutely gorgeous. Steph felt sick as she clicked on the image and the enlarged version showed a huge ruby and diamond engagement ring on her ring finger sitting against a gold band, a wedding ring. She was perfect and as Steph looked down at the image of this beautiful couple smiling and holding onto each other it was quite obvious that they were very close; no wonder he had avoided discussing his wife but knew she was being unfair in that accusation as she was the one avoiding discussing her.
If she was fair to Jon, she had to admit that he seemed to be honest and wouldn’t tell her that his relationship with his wife was one of convenience and that she didn’t understand him, that there was no physical side to their relationship unless it was true, so she now assumed that their relationship was physical and was not one of convenience and presumably she understood him well.
Steph stared at the screen and wanted to cry again. This was a ridiculous situation she had made for herself. She had wanted to have sex with Jon, and rather than being a one-night-stand she had made the situation possible and then agreed to the arrangement they had, but she was already doubting whether she could do it. She had allowed herself in the space of three weeks to go from fancying him, to hating him, to being charmed by him, to loving him, and she did love him now.
“Fuck!” she cried as she slammed shut her laptop and realised what a mess she’d inadvertently made for herself, one that there was no easy way out of.
“Bad time?” came Jack Baker’s voice from the doorway.
“No, sorry. I’ve just put some figures together and forgotten to save it,” she lied.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You look a bit peaky,” he added with a hint of concern in his voice.
“No, I’m fine, I haven’t slept too well this week. I’m back at my dad’s until I move,” she said using that as an excuse.
“Oh right, if you’re sure. Now, I need to speak to you about Brookers,” he told her and shut her office door. “I have decided that next week I will send Martin in your place so you will be here all week, okay?”
She nodded. “Have I done something wrong? Are you unhappy with my work?”
“No. Far from it. It’s an exercise to see just how on the ball Mr Brooker is to a point. Steve Cannon is singing your praises to anyone who will listen and he hates women in the workplace and Brooker requested you and the rumours of him enticing you away are still circulating, so I just want to see how he will react. I will contact their H.R. department and give them the details for Martin and I need you to court some more big, new potential clients,” he explained.
“I will do whatever you want me to, Jack, but be careful of the contract,” she warned.
“Meaning?” He bristled slightly.
“Just that as I am named in the contract Brookers may have the option of suggesting breach of contract. It’s just a thought, but you’d know more about that than me, I’m not the lawyer, you are,” she added nervously, not wanting to offend her boss or sound anything other than compliant with his wishes.
“That’s a point, but let’s see what happens next week. Thanks, Steph, I do appreciate your input, but this is between us, okay?” He rose to his feet.
She stood up too and followed him to the door to see him out.
“Nice dress.” He looked her up and down and smiled at the 1950s secretary style black pencil dress with a cream mock blouse inset and a wide black belt around her waist.
She straightened the lapels and collar and brushed down the cap sleeves as she became increasingly uncomfortable under Jack’s gaze and was relieved when he properly prepared to leave.
“I’d better let you get off to Brooker’s for the afternoon. Be careful with Steve Cannon though, Steph. He would tell you that he loves all women, but he is the most disrespectful man I have ever met where women are concerned. Ask his wife.” He smiled at her smugly before leaving her alone.
Returning to her desk and feeling just how much the dress made her wiggle, she immediately regretted wearing it for a Brooker’s day especially with the black patent high heeled courts and lace top stay up stockings she’d opted for, even more so after what Jack had said about Steve, who she was scheduled to meet later. Why couldn’t her life be less complicated? Even her work life was getting messy now.