Chapter Eleven
Abbey
I simply do not know how I managed to drag my arse out of bed on the Monday morning. No, strike that, I do know – I lived in Sydney, and I had a mortgage.
Kate walked into my room without knocking as I was staring at my open wardrobe. ‘You know you can call in sick, right?’
‘I’ve got stuff to do for Oliver.’
‘You looking in there for something slutty to wear?’
‘Professional but slutty … yeah.’
‘Pencil skirt and that white blouse you own. Your boobs look great in it.’
I considered, and then nodded.
‘Oh … wait.’ She ran out and came back with a pair of stockings.
‘Seam down the back?’ I asked.
‘Yep, he’s going to be looking at your legs all day.’
I kissed her cheek. ‘You are amazing.’
Dressed, I grabbed my lunch from the fridge and she looked me up and down. ‘Damn, Abs. There is something decidedly Cavendish about you today.’
I was insanely pleased with the compliment. ‘Thank you, my lovely sister.’
***
I wiggled into the office, my feet already killing me from the additional heel height of the shoes I’d chosen to wear.
The amount of eye contact men wanted to make with me in this outfit was, quite frankly, alarming.
Still, a sweet old guy at the train station barrier had stopped in the peak-hour crowd and said to me ‘ladies first’, which was kind of lovely.
Coming into work felt odd. Ollie was this ball of energy and even in the short amount of time he’d been there his absence felt like a void. It was my job to look after things for him while he recovered, and it felt good to recognise that as another reason why I’d got up that morning.
It had nothing to do with the other one. The other Northby. He was an inconvenience, nothing more, someone I would simply have to put up with. In three months Ollie would be back, and I would be Nick-free.
I would manage my feelings for him during that time by locking them up. Putting them away. If I had taken anything away from our relationship, perhaps it was simply the lesson he’d provided me on compartmentalisation.
The elevator chimed, and I ignored my traitorous little heart as it beat at the sight of him.
How many fucking bespoke suits could one man own?
Suit whore. His grey suit was one I had not seen before.
It had been cut by a master and clung to his legs indecently.
He looked outrageously good, and I wondered, not for the first time, why I was cursed to be so attracted to this guy.
I mean, he was just everything I never even imagined in a man. Smart, attractive, quietly funny. He was an intense person and an intense lover. He didn’t have sex, he worshipped with a smouldering reverence I had never experienced before. I was addicted to him.
Of course someone like me would fall for him. What was I? A single mum with an enormous mortgage. A boring, middle-aged woman. Not skinny enough, or not pretty enough, for the likes of him.
I felt suddenly emotional and closed my eyes against it. But then Gran appeared behind my lids.
‘Not being feeble, are we, Abigail?’ she asked with authority. ‘Not just those things, are you? What else is there? You are a—’
Cavendish woman. I am a Cavendish. And I looked tempting as fuck today. I opened my eyes and squared my shoulders.
I had left my hair out in the waves I knew he liked to touch; I pushed it aside, revealing the neck his lips liked to graze and, as I accidentally pushed my stapler off my desk, I stood slowly, giving him a cool smile before I bent over at the waist to grab it.
My tight skirt and seamed stockings played their part as his step faltered.
His eyes skimmed my curves hotly before correcting themselves.
He had a satchel and a brown paper bag in one hand, and was carrying two coffees in a tray with his other.
A small smile graced his handsome face. He knew exactly what I was about, and he respected it.
He put down a coffee in front of me and dropped his bag at his feet, placing the paper bag on the desk. He pulled out two bagels.
‘Apparently,’ he drawled, as he pulled a chair to my desk, ‘this is tradition. The CEO tells me if I do this today, you do it tomorrow.’ His eyes were sparkling with amusement at me. ‘He also said you are less inclined to be cranky when you eat.’
‘Did he now?’ My voice remained cool, even as the smell of the food met my nose.
‘Mmmhmm.’
‘Interesting,’ I said, tearing open the bag, starving.
‘Careful, Abs. There is sauce and you do not want it to end up on that beautiful blouse.’
My eyes flashed him a warning.
‘You’re annoyed with me.’
‘Annoyed? Me? No, I’m fine. Not annoyed with you, boss. Never.’
‘Liar.’
‘Nick, I’m not prepared to get into it.’
‘That outfit looks like you want to get into it, Abbey.’
‘Are we going to flirt or work?’
He contemplated this for a second and then leaned closer to me. ‘A little HR birdy told me it’s your birthday in two weeks.’ He lifted his bagel, taking a bite, amused by my hiss of displeasure.
It was completely fine that I was turning forty-three. I was not freaked out at all about how fucking old that sounded.
‘I was thinking of having a welcome-home party for Ollie,’ he continued.
‘And I had the rather fabulous idea that we could all get together and celebrate both your birthday and Ollie on the mend. It would give me the opportunity to thank you and Kate. So invite Kate, Granny Iris and Lionel, oh, and the hot doctor?’
Interesting. Happy Birthday, Abbey. Bring a date. It seemed he was living in an alternate universe where we were friends. I remembered my self-preservation tactics. We cannot be friends.
‘Don’t forget we have dinner tonight with my sister.’
I went to protest that, but had a mouthful of bacon and egg.
He pressed his advantage. ‘Also, we have had a few problems in Melbourne since Friday afternoon, so I’m going to need you to come down there with me to sort it out.
I’m keen to look at that hotel, so I thought we would stay the weekend and experience it, see what the customers see.
It seems to have some sort of cool factor that the Sydney property doesn’t, and I want to know what it is, exactly.
I know you don’t have Ella.’ He reached out and touched my hand.
‘Oh, nope,’ I said, swallowing a lump of bagel.
‘Nope?’ This with his best Australian accent.
‘No. That’s not going to work here.’
‘The touching or the coming to Melbourne?’ he raised a dark eyebrow in query.
‘Either. Or both.’ The minute he had touched my hand, it confirmed I had an immense problem.
My body reacted to him as if it belonged to him.
I had to try, somehow, to get my body to comply with the desire I had not to desire him.
‘I’m so sorry. I can’t do that with you.
I have a date with the hot doctor on Friday night. ’
‘I need you in Melbourne. We have trouble brewing in the restaurant. The celebrity chef is throwing tantrums.’ He gave me a dazzling, disarming smile. ‘Mike was telling us that the chef down there finds you compelling. I believe “alluring” was the word he used.’
When he said ‘alluring’ it was probably the hottest word I’d ever heard spoken by a voice, and I looked at his mouth for too long after he finished talking.
‘Jack Fife? Pffft. Urgh, all right fine.’ Why, Abbey? Why? What are you doing? Self-preservation. Self-preservation. Hot doctor. But this flirty work banter … Christ.
‘Ev loves you. You’ll come to dinner tonight?’
And there was the problem. I didn’t want Ev to love me. I wanted Nick to love me. Also, what was he playing at, being all flirty and charming and extending invitations?
‘What are you doing?’ I breathed. I needed to be freed of this torture.
‘Just working.’
‘Are you seriously telling me that is what this is? Just work? You’re flirting. And then spend the weekend in Melbourne? Have dinner with my sister?’
‘Abbey, you purposefully knocked a stapler off your desk. I thought you were flirting. I’m sorry.
I genuinely need you to come to Melbourne.
Jack Fife is a prima donna, and you are the one person I’m told can help.
I need you there in a professional capacity.
You can set the rules. Okay? Also, I told Ev we were having dinner.
You are the only person we know here in Sydney, and you have been extraordinary the last week.
My sister and I want to thank you. Nanny Jacinta has the day off and Summer wants to come too, so bring Ella. ’
‘Fine.’ Fucker. How had I just been talked into the family fucking dinner?
***
If I’d thought working with him was going to be easy, I was wrong. Bad Cop had left the building, and he was in full charm mode. The turnaround he performed in the exec meeting was next level. Even I was impressed.
The team were naturally wary; he had performed his role in the first two meetings almost too well. But he started softly, earning sympathy and respect.
‘Welcome, everyone. We’ll get down to business in a few minutes. I just wanted to give you guys an update on Oliver. He is, umm, well he was knocked about. If you knew him better you might know that he is pretty good at most things he puts his head to and knocking it on concrete was no different.
‘He’s awake and, apart from being in a foul mood from the headache and hospital food, he is on the mend. The doctors say his recovery should take about three months, but he is my brother and I don’t want any pressure on him. The important thing is that he gets better.’
I could feel his emotion and wanted to reach out to him to let him know I was here for support. But he had made it impossible for me to do that, so I sat on the hand nearest him and picked up a glass of water with the other.