Dirty Bad Wrong(79)

“A bit of chaos never hurt anyone,” she grinned.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it, James? Variety is as good as a rest, that’s true alright.”

I held my hands up. “Fine, I get it, tag-teamed on a Monday morning. I’m not even on my second coffee yet. Give it a rest, will you?”

“Tetchy,” Frank groaned. “So very tetchy. You must be a saint to put up with this all the time, Lydia.” He winked and I rolled my eyes, turning my attention back to my monitor.

My extension rang, Hazel from reception. I took the call gratefully.

“Mr Clarke, is Lydia Marsh with you?”

“She is, why?” I heard shouting in the distance, Hazel’s muted voice as she clamped her hand over the mouthpiece, snapping at someone. “Hazel?”

Lydia took a step closer, eyes curious. Frank hovered too, gawping at the both of us. Finally Hazel came back on the line.

“There’s someone here to see her,” she said. “He says it’s important.”

“Who says it’s important?” I asked, more demanding than warranted.

“He says his name is Stuart Dobson. Says he’s her boyfriend. He’s pretty wound up, Mr Clarke, demands to be let through. I think I should maybe call security,” she whispered.

“I’ll be right down,” I said. “Don’t let him up here, Hazel.”

I hung up, and Lydia stared at me with big, demanding eyes. “What’s going on?”

“You have a visitor in reception,” I announced, keeping my tone as deadpan as possible. “Hazel said he’s agitated, believes she should call security.”

“Well who the flipping hell is it?” Frank pondered.

“Stuart,” Lydia said, biting her lip. “It’s Stuart, isn’t it?”

“That’s what Hazel said, yes.” My eyes crashed into hers, wondering what the fuck was going on. “I said I’d go down, I don’t want you down there if he’s like that, Lydia.”

She jumped about a foot in the air, ditching her paperwork all over my pen arrangement. “No, James,” she said. “It’s fine. I’ll go, honestly. I can handle him.”

“He’s agitated,” I snapped. “Enough that Hazel wants to call security. You don’t need to go down there, I can handle it.”

“No!” she hissed. Frank raised his eyebrows at me, and I blanked him completely.

“You can’t go down there, Lydia, you don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“That’s just the thing,” she said, eyes full of panic. “I think I do.” She was on her heels in a heartbeat, slipping out through the door. I made to follow but she raised her hand, her gesture tense. “I mean it, James, don’t follow me.”

I sat down, heart thumping in my chest. It was Frank who made the call for me.

“Well, I dunno about you, James, but I think we should get on down there, find out what the hell’s going on.”

I didn’t need prompting twice.



***



A crowd was already gathering by the time we arrived on the scene. The girls from admin were pretending to use the franking machine, keeping beady eyes on the action. Hazel was rooted firmly behind her desk, staring openly at the argument in front of her.

“Not here, Stuart!” Lydia spat. “We can take this outside or you can piss off home, this is my work. You have no right to be here!”

Frank hung back, letting me tackle the fall-out. “Are you ok, Lydia?” I asked. “What’s going on?”

She paled on sight of me, eyes wide and skittish. “It’s fine,” she hissed. “I’m handling it.”

I took in the figure that was Stuart Dobson. He was toned, but a little lanky, with a trendy-rockerish mop of sandy blonde hair that was far too young for his age. He was angry too, really fucking angry. I felt my hackles rise. “Stuart, right?” I said. “I’m James Clarke, Chief Technology Officer, we were in the middle of a meeting, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

“You’re James Clarke?” he said, and there was rage in his eyes, real fucking rage.

“Leave, James,” Lydia said. “Please, I’ve got this.”

Stuart turned towards her, eyes wild. “That’s him is it? That’s the fucking sicko that beat the shit out of you?”

“Fuck off, Stuart!” she screeched. “You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about! Get out!” She lunged for him, but he was stronger, twisting her arm behind her back and knocking her off balance. She toppled into him, and he held her tight, yanking up the hem of her skirt before she could even try and fight him. I heard the intake of breath from the room, watched the letters fall from Zena’s hand at the franking machine. Lydia’s thighs were streaked purple, even through her flesh-tone tights. Stuart Dobson was pissed, his nostrils flaring with rage. He spun around the room, until his eyes landed back on mine.