Hate to Love You(43)

My plan was to locate his office, pop up to make my demands to see Ryan, and stick like a cold sore that refuses to go away. But taking a job that meant working with him? As in James would be my boss? Going on trips to Spain with the man who hated me? Shit! I hadn’t come prepared for that little surprise and I didn’t know what to do about it.

When in doubt repeat dumbly. “Mr Scott-Thomas?”

“James and I visit our clients in Valencia and Madrid several times a month. Sometimes we’ll need you to hold the fort in London, other times you’ll have to come with us,” Brentford said.

I cleared my throat. “Could I have some water please?” I drank it down like I’d been on a bender and needed to rehydrate. “So you two would be sharing me?”

Brentford ran a hand through his thinning hair and dropped his gaze down my body. “James has overall responsibility for Spain but I’ll familiarise you with procedures and contracts. The other members on our team are spread out on this floor. You’d share an office with James and myself.”

“Procedures...contracts...” I repeated, my mind racing.

I wanted to slam the water down and leave. Don’t call me because I won’t call you. Instead, I pulled myself together. This was even better than I imagined, wasn’t it? A nine-to-five, everyday chance to get in James’s face. All I had to do was stop hyperventilating and I’d be fine. Brentford said that James was in Madrid at the moment, which helped me to relax.#p#分页标题#e#

Ms Saunders regarded me as if I were slow. “Do you foresee travelling to be a problem?”

I straightened my back. “Short notice or long, I’ll be ready.”

“You would be working closely with two busy lawyers under a lot of pressure. How do you foresee that relationship?”

Fucking impossible, my mind screamed.

Luckily, my mouth had other ideas. “As a working partnership that will be productive for Flintfire.”

Ms Saunders smiled, satisfied with the pat answer. “If you’re offered the position there’s a probation period of six months.” A light pause while I digested that, and then, “You’ll be on a temporary contract during that time.”

Fine. Whatever. I wanted to know if James would have the power to fire me and relaxed when Lemane said that resided with the senior partners.

“However,” Ms Saunders interjected, “Mr Scott-Thomas would be assessing you during your probation and Mr Lemane would take any recommendation of his into consideration.”

My smile didn’t falter. I never learned how to ride a bike but I heard you never forget how, just like lying.

“There would be no reason for Mr Scott-Thomas to complain.”

Brentford got up. “Would you like to see our office?”

There wasn’t a water cooler in sight. This firm had staff that passed by with trolleys of goodies and a kitchen that looked like something out of an architectural brochure. Brentford asked me to call him Greg and told me they saved the best treats for “our” floor. By his friendly tone I could tell he wanted me to get the job and I left the building feeling positive he was on my side.

I can do this, I told myself. I can work with James on a day-to-day basis. It would be my chance to show him how mature and responsible I now was, to make him see me in a different light and soften his attitude towards me.

I bought bright orange gerberas and headed to the corner shop to ask Kahlu whether she had any other magical advice to guarantee that I was hired.



I was watching my favourite episode of True Blood when Marcia got home from work. She dropped her handbag on the console table and walked into to the sitting room, blocking my view. Her shift at the Royal Free Hospital in Hampstead had been followed by an appointment with her lawyer and she looked fit to strangle someone. Trevor, probably. He divorced her a year ago and since then they’ve had several battles, including over the amount of child support owed for Fleur Anise.

Marcia has recently dyed her long brown hair a dull, inky black. Every morning she straightens the life out of it, making her look like Morticia from the Addams Family but without the charm. She says it suits her “fuck men” attitude but to me it just says... Fuck! I’ve told her that like a good friend should. I’m not the type to let my friends go through an evening with spinach in their teeth or smudged eyeliner. Or looking like more of a vampire than the ones who populate True Blood.

“How’d the interview go?” she asked.

I murmured noncommittally and craned my head around her body to watch the TV. This was the good part, right at the end, and I sighed in anticipation. Watching Bill pounce on Sookie was as close as I ever got to the real deal.