Chapter 2
Two
The next morning, as I wait for my two soya flat whites in the coffee shop next to the office, I’m in a great mood.
Last night could not have gone better. Despite the chaos in the lead-up to it, everything went smoothly.
The food and drinks went down a storm, the atmosphere was fun and exciting, the venue was packed, and from the snippets I heard from those that matter who were there last night, Ren’s new collection was admired.
I had no doubt that this partnership with Chris Courtney was going to do wonders for both their careers.
‘He’s Wimbledon’s answer to David Beckham,’ an editor proclaimed to Ren yesterday, and from the way everyone was clambering to speak to him at the party, I’d say she has a point.
Collecting my coffee order when it’s called out, I stroll to the office with a spring in my step.
I punch the code into the door and push inside, waiting for the lift and smiling as I think about the night before.
The first sense I have that something is up is the greeting I receive from the intern as I pass her desk.
‘Morning, Natalia,’ I say brightly.
She glances up and goes bright red.
‘Uh… hi,’ she says, looking uncomfortable.
I notice her glance to the person to her left. They share a smirk.
That’s weird, I think, but continue to my desk which is by Ren’s office at the back.
Things only get stranger on my journey. I notice a ripple of whispers and even some snickering, as though everyone is in on a joke I’ve missed.
Placing the coffees down on my desk, I take off my jacket and hang it over my chair, growing more and more confused at the way people are glancing over at me.
I stealthily check the mirror on my desk to make sure I don’t have anything on my face, but confirm I’m all good.
‘Hey, Raff,’ I say, catching our branding manager as he passes my desk, ‘what’s going on this morning?’
He stops and stares at me, baffled. ‘You… you haven’t seen it?’
‘Seen what?’
His eyes widen with horror and he opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by Ren, who barks my name from his office, making both of us jump.
‘Get in here,’ Ren orders, disappearing again.
The blood in my veins goes cold. Ren should be in a good mood after the success of last night.
I have to say I was expecting a little more praise from everyone today.
Something has definitely happened and now I don’t have time to check my phone to find out what it is before facing Ren.
I’m unprepared for whatever tantrum is coming my way, so I’m just going to have to wing it.
Grabbing his coffee, I step around my desk and shuffle in to his office.
He’s waiting for me, perched on the edge of his desk, a cloud of misery descended over his expression.
As I come in, he lifts his eyes to look at me in despair.
‘Shut the door,’ he says through gritted teeth.
I do so before holding out his coffee. He doesn’t take it. I slowly lower my hand.
What the fuck is with everyone?
‘Is everything all right?’ I ask, my brain racing to provide an explanation for this strange atmosphere I’ve walked blindly into today.
Maybe there’s been a bout of food poisoning amongst all the guests this morning that I’m unaware of. Did someone come to the party last night who wasn’t supposed to be there? Maybe there’s a scathing review of the collection.
‘Is everything all right?’ Ren repeats in a hoarse voice, looking at me as though I’ve lost my mind. ‘Is everything all right? Ash, how could you do this to me?’
‘Do what?’
Closing his eyes, he sighs. ‘You haven’t seen it.’
‘No. What haven’t I seen?’ I ask impatiently.
His eyes flashing open, Ren picks up his phone.
The page he needs is already up on his screen so he just hands it out to me.
Putting his coffee down on the table by the sofa, I step across his office to take his phone from him.
It’s a picture from last night that’s been posted on social media.
I gasp, my hand flying to cover my mouth in disbelief.
It’s a perfectly clear shot of Chris Courtney kissing me up against the back door in the alleyway behind the venue of last night’s event.
‘Oh my God,’ I whisper, my heart pounding so hard, my ears are ringing and my breath running short and shallow.
This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.
Numb with shock, I scroll through the comments beginning to spread through social media about it.
Reporters are feasting on the scandal of the sordid affair between the married tennis star and junior fashion assistant, promising exclusive details if people click on the links provided.
Disapproving comments are appearing thick and fast.
Suddenly feeling like I might throw up, I shove Ren’s phone back into his grasp and clutch at my stomach, stumbling backwards as though someone had physically punched me in the gut and wishing I had something to balance myself on as my knees feel weak.
Ren watches on silently as I fumble back across the room to sink down on the sofa.
‘I can explain,’ I say weakly, pushing my hair back from my face as my forehead grows moist with sweat. I don’t know where to begin.
It’s been a whirlwind with Chris. Things have moved quickly but intensely, both of us falling faster and harder than we could have imagined.
Contrary to what the headlines are saying, he’s not married.
Or, rather, he soon won’t be. He’s getting a divorce, but the problem is, no one knows that yet.
He and his almost-ex-wife haven’t wanted it to play out publicly, but they’ve been separated for a while.
He told me everything the first time we went for a drink together; he’d had a meeting with Ren that day in a restaurant in West London and, once Ren had left in the taxi I’d called him, Chris and I were walking in the same direction and got chatting.
I’ve never felt so at ease in someone’s company so quickly.
He is funny, charming, interesting and captivating.
Even though he was separated, I was wary of getting involved with someone in a complicated situation, but it was hard to keep my distance. I couldn’t help falling for him.
We decided it was best to keep things secret because of the delicacy surrounding his divorce proceedings and also the threat the relationship posed to my job.
But last night, having spent the entire party acting professionally around each other, our willpower broke and we found a moment to sneak outside the back.
I thought we were alone. But someone saw.
Ren is so incensed, he doesn’t seem to want to hear my explanation.
‘Do you know how long I have worked on this collection?’ he seethes, his knuckles growing white as they grip the edge of his desk. ‘Do you know how much blood and sweat and tears has gone into this?’
‘Ren—’ I begin, but he cuts me off.
‘You have put my entire career at risk!’ he bellows. ‘How could you do this to me?’
‘It wasn’t… we didn’t…’
‘You have ruined everything. Everything!’
‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen. No one was supposed to know.’
‘Oh, that makes it okay then!’ he cries, pushing himself away from the desk to go stand by the window.
‘No one is talking about my clothes. No one,’ he says, spinning around to look at me accusingly.
‘I finally get someone as big as Chris Courtney to put his name with mine and no one gives a flying fuck! All they care about is that he’s screwing my assistant! ’
I wince at the blunt language, my hands trembling in my lap.
‘What were you thinking?’ he hisses. ‘Were you drunk last night? Is that it?’
‘No, no, I wouldn’t… I was working,’ I say hurriedly. ‘This thing with Chris, it’s not… nothing. We have something together. Something real.’
He stares at me, looking more perplexed than before. ‘What? Ashley, he’s married.’
‘No, he’s not. Er, I can’t go into too many details, but he’s separated.
No one knows; it’s still a secret.’ I swallow, my heart racing.
‘Ren, I’m so sorry about last night. It was unprofessional and…
stupid. I promise I’ll talk to Chris and we can work out a plan to ensure that this whole thing blows over and the focus is fully back to your clothing line. ’
Ren exhales and slumps against his desk.
‘Ashley, you know I have to fire you,’ he states with a wave of his hand, like he’s swatting away a fly that’s come too close to his face and is becoming distracting.
‘Fire me?’ I repeat in disbelief. ‘I understand you’re cross and I’m sorry that I went behind your back, but if—’
‘I can’t work with you anymore, Ashley; I can’t trust you,’ he emphasises. ‘You have humiliated me, you have humiliated my brand, and you have humiliated yourself. Your actions have been deeply unprofessional. You can’t possibly carry on here.’
My jaw hanging open, I don’t know what to say.
‘I recommend you go home and… keep your head down for a while,’ he continues wearily. ‘I imagine things will get worse for you before they get better.’
I should fight back and remind him how much I’ve done for him, how heavily he and this entire office relies on me, but I think I’m still in too much shock over the picture.
I wasn’t prepared for the story to break yet and I’m finding it difficult to process the consequences.
Rising slowly and shakily to my feet, I exit his office without saying another word.
On autopilot, I pick up my bag and coat from my desk and begin the embarrassing walk back to the lift, trying to ignore the whispers and pointed looks that follow me as I go, my face on fire.
In the lift, I muster the courage to check my phone to find hundreds of messages waiting for me across WhatsApp, email, text and my social media platforms. I can’t believe how fast this has spun out of control.
The photograph wasn’t posted that long ago, but in the time it took for me to leave my flat and get to work, my life has blown up.
Amongst the growing list of unread WhatsApps from friends and family, there’s one name I look for but it’s not there. No messages from Chris yet.
When I walk out onto the street, I suddenly feel overwhelmingly vulnerable, terrified that anyone who looks my way has seen the picture and knows who I am.
Deciding I can’t handle the Tube, I order an Uber and once it arrives, I get in and start scrolling through social media, the horror of it all beginning to sink in.
As I read through what people are saying, I sink lower in my seat, wanting to disappear altogether.
Gold-digging slut. Homewrecker. Pathetic social climber. No integrity or morality. Shame on her! Not a girl’s girl. She’ll get what she deserves.
It’s not fair. They don’t know the truth.
It looks bad, but it’s not. I usually consider myself to have quite thick skin, but some of the comments filtering through are personal attacks that no one would be immune to.
A tear rolls down my cheek as I exit social media and lower my phone to my lap.
I comfort myself by thinking about how remorseful all these people will feel once they know the truth.
I feel bad that Chris will have to talk about his divorce publicly before he’s ready and I honestly am sorry that he and his ex-wife will have to suffer the attention they were hoping to avoid, but once that’s out in the open, at least Chris and I won’t have to put up with these unwarranted attacks on our characters.
‘We haven’t done anything wrong,’ I whisper out loud to myself, gazing out the window as my Uber driver battles the city’s traffic.
Once everyone knows that, everything will be okay. Ren may regret firing me so quickly. He’s definitely going to regret losing me when he realises how much I dealt with every day.
My phone vibrates with a phone call and my heart jumps, but it’s not Chris.
It’s my mum. I can’t face her questions, not now, so I let it ring out.
I want to turn off my phone completely, but I want to hear from him.
He’ll have seen this by now, or at least his publicity team will have. I message him, asking him to call me.
When I get back to my flat, he still hasn’t replied.
He hasn’t read it. I send him another. When I check a bit later in the day, the messages remain unread.
Looking again late morning, I find his profile picture has disappeared from his WhatsApp.
I message him to ask what’s going on, but it only shows one grey tick.
My messages aren’t delivering. I call him but it doesn’t connect. I try again. It still won’t connect.
He’s blocked me.
*
The next day, Chris Courtney uploads a statement to his Instagram:
I have taken the time to reflect on my actions, so I can come to terms with everything that has happened in the last couple of days.
First and foremost, I would like to apologise to my wife, who I love more than anything in the world.
I am so sorry for putting her in this situation.
One incredibly stupid, spontaneous and drunken moment has caused the person I love to suffer unbearable pain and undeserved embarrassment, and I deeply regret my irresponsible and selfish behaviour.
I am so ashamed that I have hurt Rachel and those close to us.
I would like to apologise to her and everyone who feels let down by my drunken, foolish mistake.
We will continue to deal with this in our own way and we kindly ask for you to respect our privacy.
Thank you to all my fans for the love and support.
You have no idea how much it has meant to me during this difficult time for my family.
Chris x