Chapter 23
HARPER
It’s eight by the time I drag myself into the office, feeling like I left only five minutes ago. Alex is already here, his door open, and I can see him sitting at his desk. After hanging up my coat and bag, I head to the kitchen. Daphne, Teresa’s PA, is already there.
“Morning,” she says cheerfully.
“Morning,” I say.
“Ouch, you look like you had a rough night,” she says. “I hope it was with someone tall, dark and gorgeous positioned between your thighs.”
I chuckle awkwardly, flicking on the coffee machine.
“If only,” I say, leaning back against the counter. “I was in here until eleven, finishing up some reports.”
She wrinkles her nose and grunts.
“Well, that just sucks,” she says. “I look forward to the day you tell me you met someone and got your rocks off. You’re taking this job far too seriously. Maybe you need to come out with me and some of the other girls. We’ll get you out there.”
I shudder at the thought. Callie warned me about Daphne and her posse. They’re wild. I’ve been a party girl, but even I have boundaries. From what she’s told me, anything goes in their hunt for a man.
“That’s kind, but…”
I don’t add that I was here with Alex, someone tall, dark, and incredibly handsome, even as a joke, because I know Daphne loves to gossip, and the last thing I need is to be caught up in the rumour mill. I’m not sure he would see the funny side either.
Daphne smiles, but there’s a slight edge to it. The problem is, when you keep turning people down, they start to take offence.
“Maybe one day. You don’t want people to think you’re pining over the boss.”
I stare at her wide-eyed and force out a laugh, something I’ve perfected over the years when sidestepping questions from members of the press.
“I’ll admit he’s good-looking, but don’t you think he’s a bit old for me? Not to mention far too serious.”
She stares at me for a second, then grins, her face relaxing.
“True, I bet he folds his socks and boxers. Probably has a team of people to do it for him.” She smiles before her expression becomes more serious.
“Just checking. You wouldn’t be the first. Evelyn from the secretarial pool stepped in for Callie last year when she was sick.
She thought she’d won the lottery when she was sent upstairs.
They were working late one night… she thought…
I’m sure you know what I mean.” She sniffs.
“It didn’t end well. He turned her down flat, and she’s back in the secretarial pool. ”
“Really? That’s awful,” I say, shocked.
“Yes, poor thing, she thought it was her way out,” Daphne replies.
I shake my head, meeting her gaze.
“No, I mean, poor Alex. That’s not okay. The office is supposed to be a safe space.”
No wonder he’s the way he is, reserved and distant. Sexual harassment goes both ways and is not something that should be laughed at or gossiped about in the kitchen.
Daphne flicks her hair, clearly not seeing it from his point of view.
“You better take him his coffee.”
“I’ll catch you later,” I say, not wanting to make an enemy, but I’m also not going to stand there and let someone gossip about me or anyone else.
I grab the coffee and head towards his office. He’s sitting at his desk, staring at his screen, a frown marring his brow.
“Morning, Alex,” I say, placing the coffee on his desk.
He looks up. “Morning, Brooke. Is everything ready for our nine o’clock?”
“It is. The reports are printed, and the presentation is saved on the group drive in your folder.”
He nods.
“Will there be anything else? If not, I’ll go and check emails,” I ask.
“Don’t worry, I’ve already done it.”
I look up, meeting his gaze. He smiles, my heart somersaulting in my chest.
“You were here until eleven. We have a meeting at nine.”
“But…”
Shit, I should have been in at seven. The only problem was that Mum rang, followed by Kat.
“Don’t look so worried. I woke up early, and after going to the gym, I decided to come in,” he says.
Does the man never sleep?
He must have been in at the crack of dawn, especially after having his driver drop me at home first.
“Is there anything else you’d like me to do?” I ask, suddenly feeling off-kilter, since my morning routine has changed.
“Get yourself a coffee and take five minutes,” he says. “I’ll be having words with Dominic about these last-minute changes.”
It’s then I realise he has the new presentation open in front of him.
I leave, not sure whether I’ve done anything wrong, but I do as he says. Distracted by my conversation with Daphne, I only made one coffee. I return to the kitchen, relieved to find it empty.
When I make it back to my desk, his door is closed, so I pull up his emails and schedule, noting down the changes. I drink some coffee before flicking through the reports, checking everything is in order, which I know it is because I’ve already gone through them five times.
I look up when his door opens, surprised when Elise steps out.
“I’ll leave it with you then,” she says, shooting me a smile as she passes.
I’ve only met her a couple of times, but her designs and talent are world-renowned.
“Ready to go?” Alex says, appearing a moment later.
“Absolutely.”
* * *
The meeting is long. I take copious notes and make a recording that I’ll later transcribe. Alex likes accurate records.
“Dominic, these additional changes,” he says.
“Yes, I felt we needed to readdress them.”
“By having my PA work late into the evening? Where was Sasha? We already agreed they’d be dealt with later?”
He shoots a look at Dominic’s PA, her cheeks flaming under his scrutiny.
Dominic bristles. “Well, if she didn’t have time to do it, she could have said.”
He shoots me a look, and I drop my gaze. This is not my argument.
“Next time, check with me first,” Alex says, his voice letting everyone in the room know it’s not up for debate.
By the time we leave, my nerves are frayed. I collect the recording and make a note to ask whether the dressing down should be included. I’m hoping not. It was awkward enough living through it once.
“Brooke, can you come into my office, please?” Alex says as we return.
I follow him in, taking a seat when he motions for me to do so.
“If anyone, and I mean anyone but me, asks you to do work, let me know. You’re not one of the pool secretaries, and I’ll not have you treated as such.”
“I’m sorry, I…”
“Don’t be sorry, just don’t allow it to happen again. You’re my right hand and, as such, will be treated with the respect owed to your position.”
I’m surprised by the conviction in his tone.
I nod, not sure what else to say.
“On another note, Elise came by this morning. We need to visit one of our suppliers in Italy.”
“You’d like me to organise the itinerary?”
“Yes, but Elise thinks it would be a good idea for you to come with us.”
I glance up, only to find him watching me. “Me?”
“Yes, you. Elise’s number one, Nolan, would usually come with us, but he’s got a family emergency to contend with.”
I open and close my mouth. Did Alex just say he wants me to accompany him and Elise? To Italy? To get a front-row seat to the inner workings of a fashion house and its suppliers?
“Uh, okay,” I say slowly, not sure what to make of this revelation.
My heart rate picks up with both excitement and anticipation, as the enormity begins to sink in. Italy means airports, lounges and commercial flights. It means increasing my visibility risk. And then there’s my security detail…
Shit!
My stomach roils at the thought, sweat trickling down my spine as my internal temperature soars.
“You don’t look thrilled,” he says, moving around his desk.
“I am. Thrilled that is… It’s amazing… It’s just… I wasn’t expecting it,” I say, trying to cover up whatever tension he’s seeing.
Sophia is going to kill me. The Seamstress is probably going to want to join her.
“I’ll send you the itinerary Teresa, Elise and I discussed last night. Any questions, let me know, but I’ll leave it to you to organise everything else.”
I stand up. “On it,” I say. “And thank you for the opportunity,” I lie, my stomach turning over. I need to get out of here before I embarrass myself and lose my breakfast.
I return to my desk and sip from my water bottle until my nerves settle.
Shit, shit, shit!
I pick up my phone and fire Sophia a message.
ME:
Alessandro wants me to go to Italy with him on business.
Three dots appear and disappear, my nerves singing as I await her reply.
SOPHIA:
I’m not surprised. It will be fine. You’ll be flying business or first class, which will reduce your exposure. I’ll arrange for Harvey to re-cut and colour your hair. I take it your travel documents are in order?
ME:
Yes
SOPHIA:
It’s not ideal, but there’s nothing that can be done without raising questions.
ME:
Okay
I’m not sure what else to reply. I look at Alex’s door and sigh. Come on, Brooke, you’ve got this.
* * *
By the end of the day, I’m exhausted. I’ve used my socialite and influencer skills to plan every detail of our itinerary, from accommodations to where we’ll be dining. I sit back after sending it to Elise and Alex for feedback and any amendments they may require.
After receiving it, Alex sends me home, telling me I need some downtime after my monster workday yesterday. He appears to be more relaxed in my company today, less grumpy. It feels as if our relationship has finally turned a corner and he’s starting to trust my abilities.
Entering my apartment, I throw down my bag, catching sight of myself in the mirror. My features look drawn and tired, but then stress will do that to someone.
Before I can think better of it, I grab my keys and a cup and head into the hallway. I knock loudly on the door opposite. It opens instantly, and I come face-to-face with a middle-aged man who stares at me, wide-eyed.
I open my mouth to speak, but he pulls me inside, looking up and down the corridor before shutting the door.
“What the hell are you doing?” he says, his British accent surprising me.
“I need to speak to you,” I say, clutching the cup in my hand.
His eyes drop, and he smirks. “Please tell me you weren’t going to ask for a cup of sugar?”
I shrug. “I wasn’t really thinking, but coming empty-handed didn’t really cross my mind.”
“What’s so important that you had to break protocol?”
“I’m flying to Italy next week with work.”
He opens, then closes his mouth, a frown creasing his forehead.
“And you can’t get out of it?”
I sigh. “Not without raising some serious questions.”
“Shit,” he says, running a hand over his mouth, before shooting me a look of apology.
Another guy chooses that moment to emerge from what I assume is the bedroom.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” His accent is American.
“Nice to meet you too,” I say, both men ignoring me.
“We have a problem. Her job is taking her to Italy.”
The other guy runs a hand through his hair. It’s then that I recognise him. He’s one of the porters at St Clair. He delivers the post.
“Don’t say it,” he warns, and I close my mouth, holding up a hand.
The British guy moves to a phone and picks it up.
He waits for someone to answer and fires off a string of numbers and letters.
“Our asset needs to fly to Italy next week with work … yes, she knocked on the door … what was I supposed to do? … Yes, she’s seen Mitch …”
He pauses, obviously listening to the reply.
“Fine. I’ll get the details and send them across.”
He ends the call and turns to face me.
“Give me the details. There’ll be a team waiting to cover you on the other end.”
Some of the tension I’ve been holding onto drains from my shoulders.
“Do you have a pen?”
He hands me his phone and opens a specific app.
“Type it in there. Paper is dangerous.”
I nod and enter all the details of the trip, I’ve spent the day organising including flights, hotels, factories and restaurants.
When I hand it back to him, he glances down. “I’ll send this across. Now give me the cup.”
My brows furrow, and he shakes his head.
“You came across for sugar. You need to leave with some,” he says as if I’m stupid.
I hand him the cup, and he walks over to the kitchen, pouring some sugar from their bag into it before returning it to me.
“If I need to contact you again?” I ask. “No one told me what to do.”
“You shouldn’t need to. We’re always watching, just so you know.”
“I appreciate it,” I say, and he smiles.
“We’ll keep you safe until we can get you home,” he tells me, his expression softening.
“Thank you.”
It’s only as I walk back across the corridor and enter my apartment that I realise I’m starting to enjoy it here.
I’m starting to enjoy my job and the people I’ve met.
I don’t like being a virtual prisoner, but for the first time in my life, I can be me.
I’m not looking over my shoulder to see if a member of the press or public is waiting to photograph me, or twist something I’ve said.
Here, I’m just me, and now that Alessandro is being less sharp with me, I may actually enjoy my time in New York.