Chapter 65
ALEX
Brooke attends her friend’s wedding remotely, and I give her space.
She offered to leave the apartment and return to her own, but she’s in no fit state to move, and I’d rather have her where I can check she’s okay.
It turns out that about twenty members of staff went down with norovirus over the weekend. They had all been in the same meeting room. Brooke had gone in afterwards to collect some papers I’d requested, which is presumably where she contracted it.
That space has now been deep cleaned.
* * *
“Hey, how are you feeling?”
She smiles as she makes her way downstairs.
“Better, although it feels as if my stomach has been punched multiple times,” she says, her hand resting just below her ribcage.
“And the wedding?”
“It was beautiful. The bride looked stunning. I’m glad I could be a part of it, even from a distance.”
Her eyes glisten, and I know how much it hurts that she was unable to attend.
Getting up, I move towards her, and she steps into my arms without a second thought.
“Thank you,” she mutters against my shoulder.
“No thanks necessary. I’m just glad I was here to help.”
“I don’t mean just about that. For giving me space today.”
I clasp her chin between my thumb and forefinger, making her look up.
“When you are ready to tell everyone about me, then you can. I agree a wedding is probably not the best place.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
I lean in and drop a kiss on her forehead.
“Do you want some dinner?”
“Despite the heat, I fancy some porridge.”
I smile.
“Your wish is my command.”
I take her hand and lead her into the kitchen. I sit her down at the island before opening the cupboard.
“I can do it,” she says.
I raise an eyebrow. “No offence, beautiful…”
She holds up a hand and gives me a lopsided grin. “Fine, I’ll admit defeat,” she says. “I appreciate it.”
I grab the oats and milk and set about making porridge on the cooktop.
“Any news?” she asks, watching me stir the mixture as it heats.
I’ve been on conference calls all day.
I shake my head. “We’ve decided Elise is heading off to Milan and then Paris solo, for the menswear fashion weeks.”
“You’re no longer going?”
“I’m needed here. With everything that’s going on.”
The frustration is starting to get to me as we’re still no closer to tracking down the bastard responsible, and I spent half the night awake wondering who on our team is selling us out.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
Dishing up the porridge, I pass her a bowl and spoon.
“It is what it is,” I say, not wanting to relay my inner anguish. “We just need to find this person.”
“You will. I have every faith.”
I wish I felt as confident. Whoever is selling our designs knows what they’re doing and is covering their tracks. Like Elise, I hate the fact that I’m looking around constantly, wondering who our snake in the grass is.
* * *
I look up as Brooke enters my office, lunch in hand.
“Here you go,” she says, placing it on my desk.
“You not eating?”
She shakes her head, her nose wrinkling.
“Are you okay?”
“My stomach’s still feeling a little tender today. I’m sure it’s just a knock-on effect of the norovirus.”
I frown.
“It’s been a couple of weeks,” I say.
“Apparently I might be tender for a while.”
“If you need to see a doctor, make an appointment.”
She grins. “Yes, boss.”
“If you want something bland, I’m sure Monty will make you something. You seem to have that man wrapped around your little finger,” I say.
Monty, not far off retirement, treats Brooke like a granddaughter.
Her eyes sparkle, and I’m glad to see some of her usual sassiness returning.
“I will if I get hungry later. In the meantime, this is yours. Stop and eat it.”
* * *
When Brooke is sick again the next morning, I decide enough is enough.
“I’ve made you an appointment with my primary care physician.”
“I don’t need to see a GP. I’m fine. I’m sure it’s just my stomach being overly sensitive.”
“Don’t argue with me. Go and see him. If it’s nothing, then that’s fine, but you may need something to help settle your stomach. You’ve lost a fair bit of weight since you had norovirus.”
“Did your mother never tell you it’s rude to comment on a woman’s weight?”
I pull her into my arms. “She did, but when it’s the woman I care about, then I’m not going to beat around the bush. Get checked out, if for no other reason than to put my mind at rest.”
I drop a kiss on her lips. “Humour me, please.”
Her lips turn up in a smile against mine.
“If it will make you feel better.”
“I’m hoping it will make you feel better.”
Keith drops her off at the private practice I use on the way to the office.
She leans over.
“I’ll see you later,” she says, placing her lips against mine.
“Only if he says you’re okay to come into work.”
She rolls her eyes as she gets out of the car.
I’m pleased she’s agreed to go to the doctor. I wasn’t joking when I said she’d lost weight since she had the gastro bug. She’s also tired, still suffering from cramps and is turned off by food she previously loved.
* * *
Keith drops me off.
“Shall I collect Ms Brooke?” he asks.
“You can,” I say.
I know she’ll baulk at the idea, but she is my girlfriend. She practically lives with me now.
I make my way up to my office. Elise isn’t due back until Monday. Something about hiking in Monte San Primo with some Italian friends she met.
Brooke’s desk phone rings as I pass.
“Alex Bianchi.”
“No Brooke?” a voice I recognise asks.
“She has an appointment. What can I do for you, Pete?” I ask.
“I was…” He tells me about some issues he’s encountering.
“Hold on, I’m not at my desk. Let me grab a piece of paper.”
I retrieve Brooke’s key from its hiding spot and unlock her drawers. She’s tidy, so nothing is left out in the open.
I grab some paper from the top of a stack of files.
I scribble down the points Pete is making to ensure I have a record.
“I’ll add these to the agenda of our next board meeting. See what the consensus is.”
“Great. Catch up soon.”
“You too, Pete.”
We disconnect, and I go to shut the drawer. I smile as I see the top file. Brooke Notes. My mind wanders back to when she first came to work for me, the copious notes she took, terrified she’d forget something. I pick it up and open it.
I frown, pulling out a stack of paper.
I tense, my chest tightening.
Bile burns the back of my throat, a tremor running through my body.
No!
I flick through the pages, wanting what I’m holding, what I’m seeing, to be a mirage… but no. Page after page of designs. Great designs, beautiful designs. Designs that Elise, our creative director, has shown me.
Why the fuck does Brooke have them?
A shiver racks my body.
It’s not possible.
I drop my chin to my chest and close my eyes.
But it is.
Brooke viewed each stolen design. She’s befriended Elise and has spent time in her office. Now this. Were these going to be her next pitch?
The elevator dings in the background, and I slide the papers back into the file, relocking Brooke’s desk and returning her key to its hiding place.
I enter my office and shut the door as a sharp pain constricts my chest.
There must be an explanation.
I pick up my phone and dial Elise’s number.
No answer.
Shit, she’s hiking in Italy until Sunday.
I stare at the file in my hand and head to Teresa’s office. Maybe she can shed some light on what I’ve just uncovered.