Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
I lose all control of my bodily functions, including my ability to swallow, my wine dribbling out.
“I was a steak too!” Charley says, outraged.
“A filet mignon, babe.”
She huffs and comes back to the kitchen, reclaiming the wine from my hand. “He’s right. We were steaks.”
I pull myself together, my amusement fading. I think I was a steak too. And Jude was definitely a lion.
And now I’m just a fucking mug.
Chapter 24
By Friday, my hangover has just about left the building. I’m disappointed. Focusing on the raging headache was a hell of a lot more appealing than this sense of loss.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I wanted this. Work, no distractions.
I place the phone down on my final call of the day and rest back in my chair. On the plus side, it’s been a productive two-day hangover. I’ve secured two new clients and inched that little bit closer to my projections.
I stand and gather the few portfolios I plan on working on this weekend and head for the elevators, seeing Gary and a few of the other senior partners around the table as I pass the conference room. I hold my hand up in goodbye but slow when Gary stands and waves me back. I reverse my steps and push my way in. “Hey.”
“Good job this week,” he says.
“Thanks.” I smile as the other senior partners mumble their agreement and praise.
Bob, who’s been at the firm longer than I’ve been alive, stands. “We’ve got our monthly meet this evening. Nothing too formal, just a few drinks and obligatory casual catch-up. It would be good if you could join us.”
My heart speeds up, my interest piqued. They’re inviting me to one of their infamous out-of-office meets? “Sure,” I say, smiling, my optimism soaring. “I’d love to.”
Gary winks at me. Saying something without saying it? “We’re heading a bit further afield this evening. You can expense your transport.”
“Yes.” Sue stands and smooths down her power suit. She’s a force to be reckoned with, and the only woman on the board. I hope she’ll be rooting for me to join her and start evening out the numbers. “It would be lovely to have some female company for once,” she says, her eyebrows arching harshly as she flashes all the men a coy smile.
There’s a collection of gruff grunts as everyone stands and starts filtering out of the room until there’s only me and Gary left. “They’re very impressed with your continued growth, Amelia,” he says, his smile almost proud.
I laugh, starting to walk with him to the elevator. Given I’ve had a hangover these past few days, I feel like this is an even bigger achievement. “What does this mean, Gary?” I ask. No one gets invited to partner drinks. Ever.
“It means what you think it means, Amelia.” He hits the call button for me. “We meet at eight.” The doors open, and I step inside. Gary looks down at his watch. “I’ll be heading straight from here once I’ve sent a few emails and freshened up. You’d better get moving if you want to change into something more casual.” He looks down at my pencil dress. “And comfortable.”
The doors start to close. “Where am I heading?”
“Evelyn’s.” The doors meet in the middle, and I stare at the metal, frozen.
“What?” I must have misheard him. Or at the very least there’s another bar, club, restaurant by that name. Please be another venue by that name. I pull out my mobile, my pulse quickening, and dial Gary. No network. “Shit.” The lift stops at every floor on the way down, the space becoming more and more crowded, until it finally arrives at the lobby and everyone spills out. I dial him again. “You said Evelyn’s, right?”
“Yes, do you remember it?”
“Arlington Hall,” I say quietly. “That Evelyn’s?”
“That’s right.”
“In Oxfordshire?”
“I did say you’d better get moving if you’re going to make the eight o’clock meet.”
He did, but why on earth would they travel to another county for their monthly meet when we have hundreds of bars and clubs on our doorstep here in London?
“We’ve got a golf day tomorrow,” he goes on. “I recommended it after the conference, and Bob just so happens to know a member who got us on the course with guest passes for the day tomorrow.”
“Convenient,” I murmur, staring ahead at the busy lobby, my stomach dropping into my heels.
“I’d tell you to get a room, but the company’s budget doesn’t stretch to a grand a night for accommodation.” He laughs, and so do I. The irony.
“See you there.” I hang up and send a million mental prayers to God. I also ask him . . . why? Why would he do this to me?
Chapter 25
“You’re not seriously going?” Abbie says as she follows me from the bathroom to my makeshift bedroom.