At that exact moment I saw James’ outline stroll past the window on the street outside. His hair was wild in the wind, face flushed from his hour at the gym. I lowered my head, avoiding any chance of eye contact. My skin tingled with life, excitement blooming in my stomach.
“He’s better than good,” I grinned. “He’s goddamn-fucking amazing.”
***
Chapter Twelve
James
I knew her knock; the dainty little rapping of the knuckles against my door. It always made my pulse race, my dick twitch, my fucking mouth water. I played ignorant.
“Who is it?” My voice was gruff, dismissive.
She turned the handle. “It’s Lydia, have you got a sec?”
I beckoned her in, keeping my eyes fixed on my monitor and pretending to be engrossed in development-team appraisals. She took a seat in the chair opposite, shuffling papers in her lap like a true professional.
“And what can I do for you, Miss Marsh?”
Today she didn’t play along. “James, please, can we really talk. Just for a minute?” She was biting her lip, fiddling with her chin. She looked thoroughly awkward, in fact.
My heartbeat pounded in my stomach at the thought of the bruises under her skirt. “What’s the problem?”
She kept her eyes firmly on the paperwork in her lap. “It’s Salmons,” she said. “The deal’s landed, right?”
“Yes, it has,” I confirmed. “Frank’s calling a meeting about it later on today, sharing the good news. We got it on the back of WHM, Lydia, you should be proud.”
“I am proud.”
“So, what’s the issue? Spit it out, you look wretched.”
She finally met my eyes. My pulse raced, adrenaline pumping. Those fucking eyes, every fucking time. Weeks of fucking her senseless at Explicit had only made it worse.
“I just got accosted by Emily Barron, by the photocopier. You know Emily?”
“Emily Barron.” I pretended to think, an inkling of where this was headed creeping up my spine. “Blonde girl, yes? From your team?”
“She was angry, with me. Do you know why?”
I shook my head, smooth. “I have no idea.”
“She told me you’ve blown her out of the Salmons project, that I’ve been assigned to it instead.”
“And?”
“Is it true?”
“So what if it is?”
She sighed. “Emily’s been working on the Salmons’ deal for weeks. She did all the pre-sales prep work with Tony Carter. It’s her deal, James, she wants to project manage it.”
“I don’t give two shits what she wants, I’ll pick the team I want for a deal that size.”
Her eyes widened. “So, you are assigning me to Salmons? With you?”
I choked back irritation. “Yes, I’m assigning you to Salmons. Frank’s already signed off on it, we’re good to go once phase two of WHM gets wrapped up.”
“I think you should give it to Emily,” she announced, arms folded.
“On what grounds? That she’s worked hard? Give me a break, Lydia, that doesn’t mean shit.”
“It means shit to her. She hates me for it.”
“Let her hate you for it. It’s not your call, and it’s not your fault.”
She looked behind her, checking the door was closed. “We’re supposed to be playing this cool, yes? Keeping things really low key, no waves, no personal relationship. You wanted that just as much as I did.”
“Easily as much as you did,” I snapped. “And you shouldn’t be talking like this. We had an agreement.”
“Then why are you ruining it?” she hissed. “Putting me on Salmons is a dumb move, it draws attention, makes us look closer than we should be. Explicit-only, you said. Now Emily’s mad with me and the whole fucking team know about it. Don’t think I don’t realise WHM is almost up, no more cosy coffee mornings and nights over in Brighton. If you wanted more time together you could have just said. You didn’t need to pull Emily off her project, James, it was unfair.”
My hackles were smoking, breath fierce. “Have you quite fucking finished?”
She smoothed her skirt down, nodded her head. “Yeah, I’m finished.”
“For your information, Miss Marsh, this decision had nothing whatsoever to do with our personal relationship. I picked you for Salmon’s because you’re the best, because we work well together, because you have experience on large personal injury case-management implementations.” I shot her a look of fire, jaw tense. “Emily Barron is scatty and disorganised. She worked with Tony because she had an ideal personality for a rapport-build with the Salmons team in the early stages. I never had any intention of letting her live with the implementation, and neither did Frank. Not even Tony wanted her to handle it, if you must know.” She flushed beetroot, eyes like saucers. I was on a roll. “And as for your little monologue about coffees and hotel nights, I’m Chief fucking Technology Officer, Lydia, I make decisions that are best for this whole fucking company. If you think having you on the other side of this desk takes priority over me doing a good job for this business, then you are way off the mark. Way, way off the fucking mark.”