Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘What do you mean she’s gone? Gone where? I’ve only been away for four days,’ Marco snapped as he paced the floor like an expectant father.
‘I’m not sure,’ Roz replied. ‘I haven’t seen her for days.’ She had explained to Marco that Charlotte had had a baby girl and Emerald was nowhere to be seen. ‘I’ve been holding the fort,’ she added, pointedly, waiting in vain for some kind of recognition.
Betty bustled in as Roz finished speaking. Marco covered his face with his hands and groaned as he headed for his desk. He wasn’t sure he could cope with Betty right then. She followed him in and slammed a mug of coffee down on his desk so close to his laptop that he had to shield it with his hand. ‘Careful.’
‘Careful?’ Betty echoed. ‘I should be saying that to you. How careful have you been recently?’
For a split-second Marco thought she was referring to his sex life and thoughts of Emerald quickly filled his mind. Surely she wasn’t pregnant? He wouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised if Betty were to know such a thing before he did — before Emerald did, even. He tried to quash his unease in case Betty might spot it and use it against him.
‘Sorry?’ He stared at Betty, taking in her flashing eyes and her lips set in a determined line. Even her grey curls bounced with indignation.
‘Sacking people left, right and centre as if you’re bloody God Almighty.’
‘Ah, that.’ He breathed out silent thanks. He could handle the employees even though he wouldn’t be up for a popularity prize any time soon.
He had almost forgotten about the staff he’d sacked, being too busy attending to other business needs and finalizing his divorce. ‘It was necessary,’ he said, before tempering his words with an exaggerated smile.
It had no impact whatsoever on Betty, who folded her arms and set her stance to fight mode. ‘And what have you done to that poor girl?’
‘Poor girl?’ The timbre of his voice wasn’t entirely steady as he felt his hopes lifting. ‘Emerald?’ he asked hesitating realising that some people would view her as a lost soul when he knew she was a lioness. But he hadn’t heard from her since he’d returned and was starting to become concerned. ‘You know where Emerald is?’
Betty looked stubborn. ‘Depends.’
‘Depends? How can it depend on anything? You either know where she is or you don’t.’
‘No, it don’t depend on that, at all. It depends on if she wants you to know where she is.’ Betty planted her feet firmly apart to show she was going nowhere fast.
Marco stopped dead in his tracks, suddenly fearful. Now he thought about it, it had been far too long since he’d heard from her. He’d been too busy chasing up builders, signing contracts, and practically giving his ex-wife the shirt from his back. His blood ran cold, remembering the open-ended tickets to Florence he’d meant to chase up, so that he and Emerald could go back to Florence together. He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair as he swung Charlotte’s computer screen around. He clicked through the email and there they sat, the open tickets to the airport, in Charlotte’s inbox. ‘Roz,’ he shouted, ‘did you print these tickets off and pop them in an envelope for Emerald?’
Roz sauntered over, a puzzled expression on her face. She peered at the computer screen. ‘No, why would I?’
Betty was snapping at his heels. ‘What is it?’
Marco had given up on the me boss you employee tactic with Betty, it wasn’t worth the hassle. His voice was quiet, resigned almost. ‘Charlotte didn’t put the tickets in the envelope with the letter . . .’
Betty unfolded her arms and put her hands in her apron pocket waiting for more, but he didn’t have time to explain.
‘Damn it! Has anyone any idea where she’s gone?’ Marco just about kept his voice level and calm.
‘Last time I saw her, she left with Finbar who used a lot of choice words when he returned — on his own.’
He shook his head. ‘She’s not going to know I intended to spirit her away. Christ, my text message, what must she think? I asked her to clear her desk!’
By the look on Betty’s face she most likely knew everything there was to know about Emerald and Marco’s liaison — gossip was what cleaners were really employed for, after all. Her eyes widened as she stared at Marco, but she didn’t say a word, just took off her glasses getting ready to polish them, tucking her chin into her neck in a knowing manner.
But he didn’t care about office gossip. He just wanted to find Emerald. He cursed and headed towards the door, tapping in her phone number on his mobile as he went, his irritation dissolving with the anticipation of speaking to her. But her mobile rang and rang and there was no answer. It didn’t even click into voicemail.
He thrust his phone back into his pocket, becoming more alarmed as he headed back into the office, unable to hide his irritation.
Why was she so damned headstrong, and how did she not understand what she meant to him — after everything they’d talked about? She really should know how fiercely loyal he was to anyone he loved. He sighed in frustration as it dawned on him that he really should have told her he loved her. Declaring love was tantamount to declaring marriage in his mind. He’d only ever said it once before and had expected it to be for life, but he now realised he had played it all wrong.
He would rectify that oversight the minute he spoke to her, but still he was concerned. Why had he sent her that text message? Why hadn’t he talked to her instead of rushing around focusing on too many things at once and neglecting the most important thing of all?
Finbar strolled into Marco’s office and sat down in Emerald’s chair, put his feet up on her desk, and began painting his fingernails with purple varnish. He blew on his nails indolently as he looked up at Marco, with eyes rimmed in charcoal eyeliner.
Marco closed his eyes and blew out a calming breath. He was going to have to tread carefully with Finbar if he wanted information on Emerald. Betty threw a wan smile in Marco’s direction and shrugged her shoulders, as if the scene that was about to be played out was beyond their control. They both watched wordlessly to see what Finbar would do next.
‘Where is Miss Montrose?’
Finbar didn’t reply, just shrugged nonchalantly.
Marco had never been so close to punching a man in his life. He balled his hands into fists, controlling his temper by breathing in deeply and slowly. He glared at Finbar’s feet resting on Emerald’s desk, wanting to knock them off. He almost lost it, especially when Finbar casually asked, ‘Emerald Montrose?’ He glanced out of the window as if expecting her to magically appear.
When Marco didn’t rise to the bait, Finbar said, ‘Emerald decided to quit.’ He shook his fanned-out fingers and blew on his nails once more while leisurely raising his feet off the desk and planting them on the floor, all the time holding Marco’s gaze. ‘She’s a terribly fragile person behind that tough veneer, you know.’
Marco clenched and unclenched his fists, itching to grab Finbar’s collar and shake him until his teeth rattled. ‘I know her well enough to realize that, thank you. Get me her file,’ he barked out, knowing he shouldn’t speak to a member of staff that way, but he couldn’t help himself being too agitated for niceties.
‘Of course.’ Finbar ambled over to the filing cabinet and pulled open a drawer, lifting the file out with a flourish.
Marco knew Finbar was dawdling deliberately to infuriate him. He wished all over again that he’d included him in his list of redundancies and hang the consequences.
‘Ooh, it’s ever so light, her file.’ Finbar held it between his forefinger and thumb and upended it, shaking it slightly. A single piece of paper fell on to the desk. It looked like a photocopy of a Christmas menu, sprigs of holly painted in each corner. Marco glared at it but didn’t pick it up. He tapped the computer to find her uploaded CV and social security information. Gone. Passport number — gone. Everything had disappeared. It was as if she’d never been employed by Hot Air Aviation.
He scowled at Finbar. ‘You know that tampering with official information is illegal and you can be fined for it.’
‘Is that a question, or a statement?’
Marco glared at him.
‘Anyway, why are you telling me?’ Finbar asked, shrugging one shoulder indifferently.
Marco glared some more, rendered speechless with the urge to shout profanities at the most annoying person he’d ever met.
‘It’s not me you should be telling that to, it’s Emerald.’ He examined a newly painted fingernail before pulling a pained face. ‘Oh wait, of course, you can’t find her. That’s the problem, isn’t it?’
Marco’s nostrils flared. He shrugged his jacket back on, having taken it off only minutes before. He was going to find Emerald or kill Finbar and at the moment he rather thought the latter would be more satisfying.
‘She’s moved out,’ Finbar said, anticipating Marco’s next move.
‘ What ?’
‘Her flat. She’s gone away, I believe.’
‘Why?’
‘Err, she has no income to pay for it, maybe?’ he suggested. ‘Or maybe she’s gone to stay with a friend?’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t really know.’
‘Silly girl,’ Marco muttered.
Finbar shook his hair out of his eyes and gazed out of the window as if nothing Marco Cavarelli had to say was worth taking in. ‘Do you still want her file?’
‘Will it tell me where she is?’ Marco glowered at Finbar.
‘I don’t believe so.’
‘You know where she is, don’t you?’
‘Me?’ Finbar’s eyes widened in innocence but Marco wasn’t fooled — of course he knew where she was. He narrowed his own eyes but Finbar just raised his eyebrows. ‘Can’t help you, I’m afraid.’
Marco clenched his teeth. ‘No problem.’ He ran a hand across his jaw, heaping all the hot coals from hell metaphorically onto Finbar’s head.
He sat down at his desk, trying to think straight. He knew he had handled the situation badly, and maybe Emerald was more than a little upset with him, but hopefully she would calm down and phone him up and he could tell her he loved her and she would see that his intentions were honourable.