He marched back to his desk where he sat moving the mouse fruitlessly, unable to concentrate on even the smallest task. He needed to see her. He needed to fix this.
She must have come in when he was in a blur of self-loathing in the men’s room, because his desk phoned buzzed, flashing the number from her office. Rather than the surge of lust that usually shot through him when he saw those numbers appear, this time a feeling of dread kicked his gut.
“Morning,” he said into the receiver, holding his breath as his heart quickened.
“Get in here,” was all she said. Her cool tone had his gut curling in on itself.
Time to face up to this shit.
His mouth was suddenly dry as the desert as he opened the door to her office and entered. Selena sat at her desk, arms spread with palms face down on the desk.
“Sit down,” she ordered.
He silently did as he was told, swallowing hard. She was pissed, and so goddamned beautiful it hurt.
She opened a drawer and threw a pile of A4 sheets on the desk, but said nothing. He could feel her eyes burning into him. She crossed her legs and leaned back in her seat. “Explain.”
His mouth dropped open but words had deserted him. “I, I...”
“Just tell the truth, Nick. What the hell have you been up to? With Simon,” she said, her voice calm and measured, but twisting into bitterness on the word Simon.
She’d seen the plans he’d made up. The work to extend the Paris line. She didn't know. But he couldn’t lie anymore. Nick swallowed hard. “This has nothing to do with Simon. I had an idea for how we could extend the work we did in Paris. I was planning on showing these to you after I fleshed them out some more.”
He watched as her body sagged and steeled himself. He couldn’t be with her. Not like this. Not with the lie hanging between them.
He leaned forward, balancing his weight on the edge of his seat. “But I do know Simon. He approached me a while ago asking me to spy on you for him. I didn’t want anything to do with him,” he whispered. “I tried to stop him more than once, but I couldn’t.”
She narrowed her eyes, aiming right into his soul. “Money. How much did he pay you? It always comes down to money,” she said, her voice cutting through him like a freshly sharpened blade. “I thought there was more to you than that.”
“I didn’t do it for money. My brother was in trouble. That’s why I did this. I tried to find every other way so I didn’t hurt you. I even gave him false information. I never meant to hurt you.”
Selena dropped her gaze to the papers. Her lips were tight as she sighed. “Why?”
His body ached with the need to hold her. But he knew he’d never hold her again. “Why what?”
“Why didn't you give him everything you had?”
He tipped his chin up. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I just want you to know, I never gave away what Shades of Chic was actually doing,” he said, “I made things up to keep him as far away from you as possible.”
“How noble of you,” sarcasm dripped from each word. “Did you at least pay off your brother’s debts with this? After all, you basically prostituted yourself. It should have been worth it.”
He winced and then took in a deep, long breath. “No. I’ll find another way. It wasn’t worth it to hurt you.”
Selena clasped her hands together over her mouth and sighed. “How much do you need?”
His gaze snapped to hers. “When are you going to realize I don't want anything from you? I stopped this job days ago. I told him I wouldn’t work for him anymore.” He pushed himself to standing. “I never meant to care about you. But I did. I fell for you. I fucking love you. I don’t want your money.”
Her lip trembled. “I wish I could believe you.”
40
Selena wished to God she’d never heard of Nick. But she wanted him to get his money’s worth. After all, he’d been paid to sleep with her. Hadn’t he? His words still rang in her head like a bell and her brain forced the words to the back of her mind. She was not going to fall for it. She’d made enough mistakes.
But one thing she did do was add a bonus to his severance check. She wanted to release him from her thoughts and this was the only way that was going to happen. The moment she sent the authorization she pulled on her coat, told Nancy she felt ill and deserted. Yeah, she was running. So what? She needed out of there.
She was dizzy with anger. She was on the verge of tears or punching something—and flitting between the two moods at the change of every minute on the clock. Meetings and video conference calls would probably end in smashed screens or humiliating outbursts of sobbing. Stealing herself away was the best, safest option to maintain her reputation as the stable and confident woman at the top. No one should see her crumble. And all because of the men in her life—her brother and the man she had fallen for, hook, line and sinker.
She knew what was called for—either getting blinding drunk or being waited on hand and foot. She stumbled out of the office block and onto the street, breathing heavily as her mind raced with bitter thoughts of betrayal. She couldn’t see straight and walked right into a sign at the edge of an elaborate hotel entrance. She rubbed her leg. Well, that was definitely going to become a bitch of a bruise. She glanced up and blinked to straighten her vision. The Savoy. This would do the job. Bring on the pampering.
Inside the spa, she slipped out of her work clothes and into a comforting, white, fluffy robe as she entered a warm, light room with a pungent aroma of lilac circling the walls.
“What can I do for you ma’am?” the small woman asked in a friendly oriental accent.
No words came. Selena’s face contorted into a mess of emotions as she burst the banks of her heartbreak with a tsunami of tears.
“Come, come,” soothed the woman, gesturing her to lie down. “Shhh now.”
Selena lay face down, her nose and eyes leaking liquid through the face hole in the massage table. The masseuse placed a white towel under the face hole and said, gently patting Selena’s shoulder, “Let it all out. It’s okay.”
And Selena did. She wept silently as the woman kneaded her tense body into submission, soothing her aches, apart from the one deep inside her that couldn’t be reached. She longed for it to melt away with the gentle punching and stretching going on across her back, but the gnawing pain remained. After an hour, Selena’s tears had dried up and she sat up on the bed to thank her masseuse. The gentle woman placed her finger on Selena’s lips. “No speak. Heal,” she said, to which Selena nodded obediently.
Next up was the Jacuzzi. She cried some more salty tears into the bubbling water before saying to a passing staff member, with a shaky voice, “Excuse me, do you think I could have a gin? A large one. Skip the tonic.”
She closed her eyes and let the gin and the hot bubbles soothe her cares. It was working. Or if not so much soothing, more forgetting. The pain was less obvious. She could do this. She would be able to march back into Shades of Chic and carry on where she had been before Nick had ever been part of her team. She had risen to success before him, she could continue it after him. He was a mere blip on her record, one that no one need ever know about. She knew Nancy had her suspicions that something had gone on—that very public confrontation at Soho House had been enough of a giveaway, but she knew Nancy would never bring it up. She could trust her. At least there was someone she could say that about.