Lottie floated into work the next day. She knew Marcus would be out of town but seeing him last night had given her the fill she needed to last through the few days until she saw him again. She still felt the glow of orgasm as she stepped foot inside the building having glanced up at the fifth floor where she’d come again and again on the desk in Marcus’s office, unbeknown to anyone but the two of them. She was completely at his mercy, under his control; and she loved it.
It was a quiet morning in the office. Olivia was holidaying in the Seychelles with her family and Savannah was in a meeting. Bea was the only one around, but she was up and down from her desk, walking away to take private calls and generally behaving like a restless teenager. She’s either got herself a new man, Lottie grinned to herself, or she’s looking for another job.
Feeling restless herself, Lottie pinged Riya a message. “Fancy lunch later?”
Immediately the words Riya is typing appeared. “Sure. Carluccios?”
“Perfect…. Meet you in reception at 1.”
Lottie couldn’t focus. Every time she tried to turn her attention to a client report or a call she needed to make, her vision filled with Marcus. Marcus leaning over her on his board room table; Marcus licking at her ear while he teased her in the stock room; Marcus propped up on one arm in bed at the Shangri-La next to her, telling her about his day. She could feel herself getting aroused all over again.
This is insane, she thought. Last night should have been enough. She shook her head to physically reject the memories, at least for now. She had work to do. She buried herself as best she could in the sales reports for Lure’s autumn line. It had taken off big time. The PR launch had been a huge success. Every editor from Sarah Harris at Vogue to Harriet Walker at The Times had gushed over the designs, the principle, the originality. Profile pieces were popping up everywhere: ‘Arizona Mackintosh, the Comeback Queen’, ‘IncredibLure. How Arizona Mackintosh turned a fashion disaster into a philanthropic triumph!’ Every celebrity and fashion icon worth their salt was being seen in a piece from the new line: Kiera Knightley, Alexa Chung, even the Duchess of Sussex. Sales had gone through the roof.
Eliza had done an incredible job of keeping Arizona’s arrest as far from the papers as possible. The court appearance was looming, but Eliza had created the perfect diversion: Arizona would plead guilty, making a commitment to educate other new retailers about the pitfalls of hiring garment manufacturers. She would partner with the Ethical Fashion Forum and St Martin’s College to educate young designers and promote ethical manufacturing. Not only that, Lure would invest 10% of its profits in the creation of ethical factories abroad and in the UK. It had been a hard pill for Arizona to swallow but faced with the alternative of being humiliated in every newspaper on the shelf, rejected by every celebrity under the sun and losing the business she’d worked so hard to keep afloat, she’d naturally come around to Eliza’s plan.
Lottie became so absorbed that not only was she oblivious to the fact she hadn’t received the usual barrage of messages from Marcus, she almost missed her 1pm appointment with Riya. She shut down her computer and sprang out from behind her desk.
“I’m off for lunch, ladies,” she said.
Savannah nodded, engrossed in Net a Porter.
Bea shifted slightly. “See you!” She trilled.
Lottie and Riya took their seats at a small table by the window overlooking the river.
“How’s Arizona doing?” Riya asked as they tucked into large white bowls of pasta. “Sales are looking good.”
“She’s doing okay I think,” Lottie replied. “George and Eliza are coaching her for the court case. They think she’ll do a good job.”
“It’ll be chip wrapping in no time,” Riya smiled. “Anyway, enough about work,” she continued, putting her knife and fork down on her half-empty plate. “What else’s new?”
“Nothing much to report,” Lottie said, shovelling another spoonful of fusilli into her mouth.
“Come on,” Riya pressed. “You’re buzzing. Although …” she mused, “Marcus went to France this morning so I’m not sure why you’d be so happy.”
“I’ve no idea what you mean,” Lottie replied, stifling a blush. “I’m just really pleased with how everything’s going at Lure.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” Riya smiled.
“About what? What am I lying about?” Lottie felt apprehensive. As close as she and Riya had become, Lottie hadn’t told her about her affair with Marcus. She hadn’t told a soul.
“Look,” Riya said, softly. “I hate to say this, but it’s kind of obvious.”
Lottie gulped.
“To me, I mean,” Riya explained. “Because I know you so well!”
Lottie let a squeak of relief escape her lips. “How is it obvious?”
“You are glowing,” Riya laughed. “Literally. You look beyond amazing and your face lights up whenever Marcus is near, or at the mere mention of his name.”
Lottie blushed, demonstrating Riya’s point.
“And when I’m in meetings with the two of you, it’s as though you’re a married couple or something.”
“What?” Lottie was stunned.
“You finish each other’s sentences; you fix each other drinks. You used to be at loggerheads all the time but now you’re on the same page, always. It’s like you’ve merged.”
Lottie felt a prickle run down her spine. “Has anyone else noticed?”
“No, I don’t think so. But you need to be careful, Lottie. If word got out, I hate to think what would happen to you. Marcus is still with Annabel Gainsborough …”
“Yes, I’m very aware of that,” Lottie said, quietly as she looked down at the table.
“People love her. You’d become public enemy number one.” Riya dipped her head to get Lottie’s full attention. “I’m serious. You need to think really carefully about what you want.”
Lottie sighed. “I know what I want.”
“And what’s that?”
“I want Marcus. I want for Annabel to never have existed. I hate being the other woman. I hate what I’m doing to her, but I want Marcus more. I can’t explain it, Riya. I love everything about him – he’s so intelligent, so driven and ambitious. And he’s gorgeous, obviously …”
“Love?” Riya’s eyes were wide. “You love him?” Lottie blushed an even deeper shade of red and nodded meekly. “Oh God, this is worse than I thought,” Riya said, dropping her head into her hands. “You can’t fall in love with him, Lottie,” she mumbled then raised her head to look at Lottie despairingly. “He will never leave Annabel, you know that, don’t you?”
Lottie didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She knew Riya was right, but she couldn’t admit it to herself; it was too hard.
“How long have you been … involved?”
“Four months.”
“Wow,” Riya shook her head. “I can’t believe him. What a bastard. He’s led you on for so long, Lottie. What are you doing?”
“I can’t stop,” Lottie whispered. “I love him and I … need him.” She dropped her head in shame. She could hardly believe she’d spoken those words aloud. Where was Charlie? Where was the young girl who was adamant she would never need anyone else, ever again? How had she reneged on the promise she’d made to herself when she was at the lowest point of her life? “What am I going to do, Riya?”
“You need a distraction,” Riya replied. “I understand it won’t be easy to end things with Marcus, but cool things down a little, okay? Put yourself out there a bit more. While you’re wasting your time on someone you can never have, you might be letting the perfect partner pass you by.”
“I can’t think about someone else. I can’t.”
“Just think of it as a project,” Riya said, optimistically. “Think of it as a character-building exercise. What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.”
Lottie supressed a giggle. “It sounds horrific.”
“Please, Lottie. Let me at least set you up with an online profile.”
“Fine,” Lottie said. “Whatever you think.” She wouldn’t ever allow a profile of her to reach the public domain but Riya needed placating.
“Great!” Riya clapped her hands and reached for her phone. “You’ll need a profile picture and there’s no time like the present!” Lottie grimaced as Riya took several photographs of her. “You’re not going to attract anyone by pulling that face,” she giggled. “Pretend I’m Marcus and give me your best smile.”
Lottie laughed out loud while Riya snapped away. Then, in the middle of a photograph, the phone vibrated.
“Oh!” Riya exclaimed. “Speak of the devil.”
Lottie’s heart flipped over.
“Marcus!” Riya answered. “How are …” Cut off mid-sentence, Riya fell silent. “Yes,” she said, eventually. “She’s here.” Riya passed the phone to Lottie. “He said he couldn’t reach you; you’re not answering your phone.” Lottie took the phone, puzzled.
“Hello Marcus,” she said, looking shyly at Riya.
“I need to see you urgently.” He said, his voice cold as ice.
Riya busied herself by asking a waiter for the bill, but Lottie still blushed as though Riya could hear every word. “Of course,” she replied, wondering how that would be possible considering he was in the south of France on business. “When?”
“Two hours. At the Gatwick Hilton.”
“But … how?” She asked, beginning to feel nervous. She couldn’t sense the usual lustful urgency in his voice.
“I’m at Toulouse Blagnac, about to depart.”
“Marcus, what’s going on?”
“Just do as I say,” he ordered. “Don’t go back to the office, just come straight to the airport. And don’t answer your phone.” He hung up, leaving Lottie staring aghast at Riya.
“What did he say?” Riya asked, concerned for her friend.
“He wants me to …” she looked around, not sure what she was looking for, but sensing a need to be discreet. “He wants me to meet him at Gatwick airport. I have to leave now.”
“Did he say why?”
“No.” Then she remembered her phone. “Why did he call you and not me?” She rummaged around in her handbag; she must have switched it off by accident.
“He said you weren’t answering,” Riya replied.
“It’s not here,” Lottie panicked, unloading every item from her handbag onto the table. Shit, she thought. If someone’s got their hands on it, they’d be able to see all the text messages, the Whatsapp messages, the photos.
“I definitely had it this morning.”
“Take mine,” Riya said, pushing her phone back towards Lottie. “And go. Email me when you know what’s going on. I won’t leave my desk.”
Lottie pushed everything back into her bag, confusion clouding her every move.
“And don’t worry, I’ll get this,” Riya gestured to the bill before standing up to give Lottie a hug. She had the sinking feeling Lottie’s heart was about to be broken. She squeezed her tightly. “Keep in touch, okay?”
Lottie nodded. “I will. Thanks Riya.” She practically ran out of the restaurant and hailed the first taxi she saw.
“Victoria station please.”
An hour later, Lottie was walking briskly through the airport terminal, following signs to the Hilton. She’d texted Marcus to let him know she had Riya’s phone and still couldn’t remember where she’d left her own. Perhaps it was on her desk in the office. But then, she didn’t recall taking it out of her bag. Perhaps it was on her bedside table at home. Then she remembered using it on the tube to run through her emails. Did she leave it on the tube? No, she distinctly remembered clutching it as she walked through the ticket barrier at London Bridge, then placing it back in her bag as she reached for her security pass inside Falcon’s reception. Had someone taken it out of her handbag? She’d left her desk a few times to visit the bathroom and collect papers from the printer. But why would someone do that? None of this was making any sense. She just needed to see Marcus and find out what the hell was going on.
She reached the entrance to the Hilton and stepped inside, relieved to be out of the cold. The lobby was dressed in Christmas lights with a tree standing majestically in the centre. Normally she loved this time of year, but the thought of returning home alone, the office being closed, Marcus spending this precious time of year with Annabel, not her, was too much to bear. Instead she’d rejected Christmas from her thoughts and filled the vacuum with ever more thoughts of Marcus.
She realised she wasn’t sure what to do, or exactly where to meet Marcus. He wasn’t due to arrive for another hour. She pulled her scarf around her face and sat down in a quiet corner of the lobby, burying her face in a magazine. After thirty minutes, Riya’s phone buzzed and a text appeared.
“I’ve booked a room. Check in under your name and text me the room number. Then delete this message.” A familiar warmth crept into Lottie’s gut. Maybe her phone going missing was a mere coincidence. Perhaps Marcus did just want to fuck her. But enough that he’d fly in from another country? It wasn’t unreasonable, she thought; his needs had become more and more insistent. He loved that he could have her whenever and wherever he wanted.
She took the key to room 604 and let herself in. It was a twin bed; that couldn’t be right. Perhaps he’d asked for that to throw them off the scent. Or perhaps he didn’t even have bed sex in mind. She looked around the room for something else that might appeal but her imagination fell short. It was a standard room with a cheap desk, plastic bathroom and tiny window overlooking airport buildings. She banished the disappointment; location barely mattered to them. When they were together, all that mattered was the touch of their hands, the feel of their lips, the pace of their love-making – sometimes gut-wrenchingly slow, other times insatiably urgent. It didn’t matter where they were, whether it was the penthouse suite in the W, the lift or the third-floor server room.
Lottie didn’t have too much time to contemplate. As soon as she’d taken off her coat and perched on the end of one of the beds, she heard a knock at the door. She opened it and swallowed back her shock. Marcus was white as a sheet and his hair was unrulier than ever. He stepped into the room and whispered urgently to close the door.
“Marcus, what’s going on?” Lottie asked to his retreating back as he hurried to the window and yanked the curtains shut. “You’re scaring me.”
“Sit down,” he whispered, looking erratically around the room. His eyes landed on the hotel phone which he promptly pulled out of the wall. Lottie sat back down on the bed, the feeling in her gut turning from faint arousal to waves of anxiety. Eventually Marcus sat on the chair by the desk facing her. He took in her anxious face, his eyes brimming with tears, then sunk his head into his hands.
“Tell me, Marcus,” Lottie pleaded. “Are you okay?” Panic started to rise in her throat. Whatever she’d imagined was nothing compared to this. Not knowing what was going on but sensing there was an ending. Marcus lifted his head and sighed heavily.
“This is over,” he said, simply. Lottie couldn’t comprehend the words. They fell out of him so suddenly. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.
“The papers have got hold of it,” he continued. “There’s a piece coming out tomorrow.”
“What do you mean? Got hold of what?”
Marcus paused. “Us. This.” He gestured around them. “Our affair.” The word hit Lottie square in the face. Affair. She’d never once thought of it like that. This wasn’t an affair; it was just them, together. It was no-one else’s business. “They know about Lure, the loan, me not firing you when I should have done. They’ve got emails, photos of us, CCTV footage, everything.”
“Who?” Lottie demanded. “Who has?”
“The Mail group,” he said. “They’re running it tomorrow. Well, the first edition’s out tonight. They’re leading with …” He paused for a second, as though choosing his words carefully. “They’re saying you seduced me and put my business at risk. They’re going to attack you, Charlotte. And I’m afraid nothing I can say will change that.”
“I don’t understand,” Lottie whispered, trying to take it all in.
“If Falcon is to survive this, I have to fire you. I’m sorry Charlotte.” She nodded, slowly. She knew she’d been working on borrowed time ever since Arizona had been arrested and she’d had to confess to the secret loan.
“Oh, God,” Lottie’s hands flew up to her face. “Annabel! How is she going to take it?”
“She doesn’t know yet. She’s staying near Amner Hall so I’m taking a jet to Norfolk. It leaves in forty minutes,” he said, looking at his Rolex.
Fury started to flicker in Lottie’s chest. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to try and save our relationship,” Marcus said, avoided Lottie’s eyes.
“Are you joking?” Lottie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “So, what you said to me in the boardroom last night – that you only wanted me in there – that was a lie?”
“I can’t think about that now, Charlotte,” Marcus snapped.
“So, this is it?” Lottie almost shouted, getting to her feet. “You’re just going to fly off back to her and leave me here, alone, jobless and with the fucking Daily Mail and every other worthless rag on my doorstep?”
Marcus didn’t reply.
“How could you?” She hissed. “YOU seduced ME. Have you forgotten that? Did you tell them that? Of course you didn’t. Because you’re a coward, Marcus Armstrong. All you care about is yourself.”
“Why did you lie to me?” He said, his voice icy.
“What?” She gasped.
“Why did you lie about your background? Why did you cover it all up?”
Lottie staggered backwards. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re not who you said you were, are you?” Marcus spoke firmly but his eyes were brimming with sadness. For her? For him? Lottie wasn’t sure. “You don’t come from the Matheson construction family, do you? You didn’t go to either of the schools you listed on your CV. You neglected to mention your time at the detention centre …”
“It wasn’t a detention centre. It was a secure children’s home,” Lottie whispered, looking down at her hands.
“Whatever it was,” Marcus waved, dismissively. “Look, I don’t care about your background. But you lied to me, to our recruitment team.”
“You wouldn’t have hired me if I’d told the truth!” Lottie snapped. “Would you? Admit it!”
Marcus took a deep breath. “Maybe not. And that’s something I’ll have to think long and hard about.” He sighed, heavily. “But it doesn’t change the situation. What we had was great. It was fun. But it’s landed us in scolding hot water. It’s bigger than both of us. I’ve got no choice but to move on, and you should too.”
Fun? Lottie thought, humiliated. He called it ‘fun.’ Not only had Marcus, who meant more to her than any other man in her life, discovered things about her past she thought were dead and buried, he’d dismissed their chemistry, their connection, the unbridled passion they felt for each other, as ‘fun.’ That was all she needed to hear. Lottie’s shoulders fell, the realisation hitting her that this was it; everything she’d worked for was worth nothing, her relationship with Marcus was worth nothing. Her life was worth nothing. She waited for the tears to come but there were none. She was completely, breathtakingly numb.
“So, this is it,” she said, quietly.
“I’ll make sure you get something,” Marcus replied, business-like as always. Lottie glared at him, her normally wide eyes now cat-like, seething.
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“I’ll guarantee a good reference,” he offered.
“Like anyone would take that seriously,” she hissed.
They both fell silent, knowing these would be the last minutes they’d ever spend in each other’s company. Lottie remembered briefly how she felt as she’d got up to leave Blacksmiths, before they’d first made love. She remembered the bittersweet moment and a feeling of painful longing, but she’d felt in control, as though walking out would have been her choice and there was no-one holding a gun to her head. This was different. Someone was holding a gun to both their heads. She knew, rationally, that even if Marcus had chosen to end his relationship with Annabel Gainsborough, she and Marcus could still never be together. It would be too damaging for Falcon. She knew she couldn’t blame him for wanting to rescue at least one aspect of his life from this vicious grenade. But the thought she would never see him again was too much to bear. She stood up quickly, feeling the nausea rising in her throat.
“Goodbye Marcus,” she said, hastily, flying past him to the door.
“Wait …” he stood up in a panic, grabbing her wrist. Yanking it free, she wrenched open the door and ran out, letting it close noisily behind her.
Lottie sped past the lifts and took the stairs, two at a time, clutching her stomach as she ran. In the lobby she searched for a lavatory sign. She spotted one just metres away and made a beeline for it. Once inside she quickly typed out an email to Riya asking if she could hide out at her house for a few days; she would need to lay low for as long as possible. Then she banged the cubicle door shut, turned her back to it and threw up.