Exchange of Heart

CHAPTER ONE

Nora

I transformed from cheerful to hangry in a matter of seconds. Impossible to pinpoint the exact moment, I figured somewhere between making a joke about spreadsheets in the staff room and finalising an income statement, my last drop of cheer evaporated.

Poof.

My creased forehead replaced my smile, and my feet slapped the pavement as I prepared to eat my way through a ridiculous array of food like the Hungry Caterpillar.

My stomach grumbled in protest as shops on the street hung closed signs in windows, and I knew I was up for a race against time.

Three in the afternoon wasn’t an ideal lunch break, but I’d convinced myself it was imperative to crunch numbers and compile reports before leaving my desk.

After all, how could my boss, Mark, notice my dedication if the chair at my desk was empty?

An empty chair could ruin my opportunity for a much-needed pay rise, and I’d risk walking the same ‘two-job, minimum-wage’ footsteps my mother did after my dad left.

I would never allow myself to depend on a man.

I could almost taste the promotion I’d been dreaming about. Or was that the scent of a glorious hotdog teasing my taste buds as I panted along the pavement?

With only five shop fronts between me and the food van, the man reached under the counter, and the closed sign threatened to appear at any moment. Never one to miss an opportunity, my feet pounded the pavement faster.

‘Stop!’ I lifted my palm, three shop fronts still between us.

His beady eyes darted to me before his hairy hand slammed the closed sign onto the counter like a guillotine. The foul smirk on his face beheaded any optimism I’d dared to maintain.

‘Sorry, I’m done for the day.’ He didn’t look sorry.

‘Just one more hotdog?’ I begged.

‘Nope.’ His gold tooth glistened at the sight of my hands clasped together in prayer.

‘Business is business,’ I assured him.

‘Yeah, your five dollars is finally gonna get me that house by the beach.’ His gravelly laugh turned into a hacking cough.

My appetite for his phlegm-covered hotdogs should have wavered, but food options were limited now as we neared the end of the day.

‘Oh, come on,’ I pleaded.

He leaned his freckled arm on the counter and revelled in delight as he denied me with a shake of his head. His gaze travelled from my narrowed, brown eyes to my waist. ‘Beat it. You don’t need it.’

I held my expression steady, but heat filled my face until my cheeks grew as pink as my lipstick.

What an asshole. He’d probably watched too many pornos and thought every vagina was a rose yet to bloom.

The book I’d read last night, Disputing with Elegance, suggested to always take the high road.

After all, you never know when your paths may cross again, or what circumstances it might be under.

‘I hope you get diarrhoea so explosive it paints the walls,’ I snarled.

Forget the high road.

‘Hope all you want. He got the last one anyway.’ His shiny head motioned to the end of his cart.

A tattooed arm I’d recognise anywhere reached for the tomato sauce, and I hoped the crusty nozzle squirted sideways and splattered his overpriced white collar and rolled-up sleeves. Furiously starving, it was like the universe had gifted me someone to take it out on.

‘What are you doing here?’ My voice summoned a tone not of this world.

His back muscles tensed under the almost see-through shirt, his outstretched arm froze, and his head twisted to me like a demonic doll until his cold, grey eyes focused on my scrunched nose.

‘Getting lunch.’ He leaned against the cart with his trademark smirk, golden hair curling over his ears like an ungroomed llama.

God. I hated Corey Flemmington.

The aggravating inked arm that always shot into the air before mine in finance class, his big-ass body blocking my view from his chair in front, and the unspoken likelihood that he’d paid for the course upfront while I continued to scrape pennies so I could meet the instalments of my payment plan.

Content people might ignore him, but considering he thrived while I barely survived, I was not content.

Not with my one-bedroom apartment on a city street that witnessed more crime than a courtroom. Not with the lentils I’d been substituting for overpriced meat lately. And most definitely not with this infuriating finance manager who lived my dream life without a care in the world.

‘You took the last one,’ I said through gritted teeth.

He’d been claiming my things for too many months now, so I sucked in a calming breath to rein in my frustration. I wouldn’t allow my sanity to be a trophy on his shelf along with the chair I’d wanted that he sat in every Monday.

‘Can’t you just go somewhere else?’ He took an enormous bite.

‘Why are you even here? Don’t you work on the other side of the city?’ My lips stretched into a poor attempt at a smile.

My brain wasn’t tricked by the fake smile though, and heat simmered in my belly at the thought of him in his fancy office by the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

‘I had a meeting down the road and my assistant’s off sick today,’ he said.

Those words did nothing more than confirm his entitlement. I imagined that while I suffered through two nights in a row of bland pasta, he guzzled champagne and chomped on wagyu.

‘How unfortunate for you, to be forced to fetch your own meal.’ I gazed at his half-eaten hotdog with dreamy eyes and licked my lips to catch the drool threatening to drip from my salivating mouth.

‘If it means that much to you, you can have the rest if you want.’ His hand transformed into a pedestal presenting a treasure.

I ripped my gaze from the offering. ‘Why are you even eating a cheap hotdog? Shouldn’t you be in a café yelling at waiters after finding a speck of dust on the white linen tablecloth?’

Corey choked on a mouthful and hammered his fist against his exceptionally large chest. ‘You really think I’d yell at someone over a speck of dust?’

I considered it for a moment, then imagined him barking orders at his poor assistant to fetch him a barista-made coffee. ‘Of course not. You’d probably get your assistant to do it for you, so you don’t hurt your delicate vocal cords.’

‘Geez, Nora. I might have money, but I also have manners.’

I snorted, ‘Could have fooled me.’

A light breeze wafted the scent of the hotdog into the air, sparking my brain with the reminder of what could have been.

The hangry beast inside of me had no patience or understanding for the need to maintain composure, transforming my usually pleasant face into a scowling troll.

If I didn’t leave now, I’d tackle Corey to the ground and wrestle the damn food from his oversized hands.

‘Well, enjoy your luxury,’ I muttered.

Corey opened his mouth, but I turned from the hotdog thief and clinked my stilettos up the path before he could get another word out.

Six closed cafés and two sold-out food stalls later, a sad sandwich inside a display window barely held itself together, like a visual representation of me.

Could get the job done but might fall apart in the process.

With nowhere else open, I paid for the sandwich and unwrapped it during my walk of shame back to the office.

Pungent crumbles of curried egg toppled out between the slices of yellowing bread, and my stomach churned at the repulsive smell.

Deciding I’d rather eat the expired crackers in the bottom of my desk drawer, I threw the stale bread into the closest bin and followed the pavement back to work with defeat weighing down my empty stomach.

I plucked my phone from my bag and dialled Hayley.

‘Did you get it, did you get it?’ she squealed.

Hunger took a back seat in my brain as I thought about the news to come this afternoon.

‘They haven’t told us yet,’ I said. ‘But by the end of the day, I’m sure I’ll be the new Senior Data Analyst at Dreyton Marketing, overlooking the Sydney Opera House from my very own office.

’ I grinned at the thought of affording avocados and blueberries.

‘And you’ll be able to hang your new diploma in there.’

I grimaced. ‘Speaking of my finance diploma, I just ran into Corey.’

‘Oh, yes. How is your mortal enemy?’ Hayley said dreamily, refusing to believe in anything more than fairytales and love.

‘Still a rich asshole.’ I paused outside the lobby and closed my eyes. ‘And he took my hotdog.’

‘Like, from your hands?’ She finally sounded appalled by him.

‘No,’ I admitted. ‘He bought the last one before I got there.’

Hayley stayed silent, likely thinking I should cut Corey some slack, but I couldn’t do that while there’s still a significant gender and class pay gap.

There’s no way a rich guy studying the same degree as me yet working as a finance manager deserved any slack.

Especially considering the day I met him he introduced himself with his job title. I mean, what a cocky douche!

I sighed. ‘Men like that are the reason women can’t get ahead. They act like they can get the job done better, all because they’ve got money and a penis.’ I pressed eight in the elevator and flicked my long, black hair off my shoulders. ‘Anyway, I guess I should head back to work.’

‘I’m rooting for your empty bank account and lack of penis. We’ll get coffee before Pilates tomorrow morning to celebrate your promotion.’

‘Can’t wait, bye!’

I smiled my way through our office of grey and black, allowing my glittering emerald dress to radiate positivity while screaming ‘look at me’.

The current senior financial analyst, Terry, announced his upcoming retirement three months ago, and Hayley explained the term ‘peacocking’ through a fit of giggles when I’d told her.

I’d agreed it would be my opportunity to be noticed, so I’d hurried to the library that evening and basically eye-fucked Peacocking for Attention until I understood exactly what I needed to do.

‘How’s it going, Freddie?’ I sashayed past the redhead who kept calling me Noreen despite my constant correction.

This afternoon, he didn’t even grace me with words.

He simply nodded and continued typing furiously, hunched over his laptop.

Never mind. His five months and lack of team bonding would come back to bite him in the ass.

I, on the other hand, detoured back to my desk past accounts and marketing for a quick rundown of their weekend plans, because every leader should demonstrate communication.

I then passed tightly packed cubicles and eyes glued to computer screens until I reached my small desk, flung my yellow bag underneath, and gazed at the photo I’d framed of the Sydney Opera House for a spark of motivation.

‘Has anyone got some spare manilla folders?’

I didn’t have a clue who asked, but my legs sprung up with the enthusiasm of a Labrador. ‘I do!’

Operation Promotion would be over in a few hours, after ninety days of soul-draining overtime, additional work, and excessive cheer.

It would have been worth it once I could finally afford an apartment bigger than my ant-sized rental and get some decent health insurance.

Perhaps even a car to visit my mum and brothers in the Blue Mountains rather than taking the bus and train.

My eight loyal years – five of them in this role – and an almost completed Advanced Diploma of Financial Planning would ensure I had this in the bag.

‘Has anyone seen Nora?’ the brown-haired lady from HR called over the desks.

I smoothed my hands over the waist of my dress and checked all the buttons at my chest were done up. ‘Here I am,’ I called with enthusiasm.

I faltered when I realised her smile wasn’t the kind you wore when you were about to change someone’s life for the better.

Although, perhaps she’d had a bad day. She’d probably missed her train this morning or spilled coffee over her favourite dress.

My gaze darted over her ‘dead-body grey’ blouse and black pants.

Of course, definitely the coffee problem.

No one would wear that outfit by choice.

‘Mark would like to see you in his office.’

Words wouldn’t form. Excitement grabbed my brain fistful by fistful and hurled it against my skull. I gave a quick nod and followed her to his large office. His stomach brushed the edge of his desk as he stood from his chair, and Dead-Body Blouse closed the door behind me.

His stomach caught the edge of his desk again as he sat back down, knocking a pen to the floor in the process. ‘Please, have a seat.’

Was this the final test? Should I crawl under his desk to produce the runaway pen as a show of good faith and dedication?

He tracked my gaze and chuckled, ‘Leave the pen, it’s probably found the rest of its missing family down there.’

Phew. There would be no pen diving and putting myself in questionable positions.

The cushioning of the leather chairs normally reserved for other CEOs were out of this world.

I’d sunk so perfectly into the chair I couldn’t tell where it ended and my ass began.

This was the chair they’d pulled out for the victor; I knew it.

‘Your résumé and interview were very impressive, Miss Claremont.’ He placed some papers onto his polished, mahogany desk and settled a small smile onto his face.

I prepared to show the proper mix of surprise and enthusiasm I’d been practicing in the mirror each morning as I mentally hurled everything from my desk into Terry’s office. He opened his mouth to continue, and my heart pounded through my ears, muffling his words with the thrumming thrill.

‘You won’t be disappointed.’ I stretched my smile so wide I wondered if he could see the filling on my right molar.

‘Well, that is excellent sportsmanship. Freddie will be stoked to have such an enthusiastic team behind him.’

My smile shrunk to confusion. ‘I’m sorry?’

Mark chuckled again, his belly bouncing with the motion. ‘Cats out of the bag. Try to act surprised when he comes out, though. I haven’t told him yet.’

‘Freddie? You’re promoting Freddie?’ My eyes narrowed as my head twisted back and forth between Mark and the HR lady’s hideous outfit.

‘Well, ah, yes.’ Mark shifted uncomfortably.

My palms were sweaty and my head swayed with the lightness of a helium balloon. Affordable organic blueberries were rolling out of reach and I couldn’t bear the thought of renewing the lease on my tiny apartment. I’d already saved tabs online for new places to view!

‘But I’ve got five years on him. He’s only been in the role five months. Look at how young he is.’ My pointing finger stretched in the direction of that hunched-back traitor.

It was a miracle his umbilical cord wasn’t still connected to his mother.

‘Freddie has been with the company almost as long as you have, Nora. It’s only that he moved from legal, so he has a thorough understanding of much more than the financial side of things.’

The room spun. I gripped the leather arm rests and focused on my whitening knuckles as I convinced myself I wasn’t going to spew. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Success.

I didn’t spew.

Instead, I fainted.