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Adele had been warned by a number of her peers that getting Jordan on her side would be crucial to her role. He had the power to make or break her career in Europe, and she wanted to impress him. This temporary position was a godsend. If she had to stay in Houston and bump into Curtis almost-daily, she’d be a wreck. But here, in London, she could reinvent herself.
The Adele who had her heart broken on a regular basis no longer existed.
Wednesday, she dressed with care for her noon meeting with Jordan. She was his first appointment of the day. It was an opportunity to run through her work plans, gain approval for a few ideas, and review the team budget. She knocked on his open door and was graced with a quick smile.
“Hey there, Adele. Come in. Sit down. I need a moment before we start.”
“Your PA said you only just got in. If you’d prefer, we could have this catch-up as a working lunch? Go get a sandwich.”
He glanced up, and then returned his attention to his laptop. “Sorry.” His voice was brisk. “I’ll be working through today.” He looked up again and smiled briefly. “Another time, perhaps?”
He didn’t keep her waiting long, and soon was ploughing through her workload with her. Adele was impressed with his working style. He was decisive and clear in direction, but willing to listen and consider her viewpoint. He refused her request to bring in an expensive graphics consultant, but he delivered the news with a regretful hint of a smile that made her heart pound. Everything about the guy appealed to her.
Christ. Good thing Jordan was married. She could fall for him so easily.
She drifted back to her desk with three pages of actions to cover off, and found an email from Nick.
Melda, You fancy playing squash again this week? I’m playing Jordan tonight, but we could play Thurs or Fri. Let me know.
She replied quickly.
Thurs or Fri is good for me. Thanks. I’m not busy tonight, though. Fancy a drink after you’ve finished with Jordan?
She slipped out to get a salad for lunch, and Nick replied while she was out.
Hi. Sure. Can make drinks tonight. Meet me at the gym, 7:15? We can book the next game while we’re there. See ya later.
Would drinks include Jordan? Her pulse sped up at the thought.
****
Adele stood in the foyer of the gym, lounging against the reception counter while she waited for Nick and Jordan to appear. She had time to get changed into casual gear, and she knew she looked good.
She flicked through Facebook on her phone, and asked herself again why she was trying to get Jordan’s attention. He was happily married. He couldn’t be more off limits.
Approaching footsteps caught her attention, and she looked up to see Nick walking alongside Jordan. They both looked pissed off, and her spidey senses leapt to full alert.
“Hi, there.” She adopted a bright voice. “Drinks? Are you coming as well, Jordan?”
He shook his head. “No. See you both tomorrow.” He strode out of the gym, and Nick pulled a face behind his back.
“I’m glad he’s not joining us,” said Nick. “He spent the entire match trying to kill me.”
“What do you mean? I saw him at lunchtime, and he was fine then.”
“Maybe it’s me, but he seemed wound up. It’s not like him.” Nick huffed a breath. “Shall we book our court? Then we can escape for a drink, and you can tell me if your week is going any better than mine.”
They didn’t even get to the wine bar, before Nick had his phone out and was checking messages.
“For fuck’s sake.” He stopped in his tracks.
Adele gazed at him, concerned by the bleak look on his face. “What’s up?”
“See for yourself.” He handed her the phone, and she scanned the brief text. It was from Lara.
We need some space at the moment, while we get used to this. I still love you and hope you’ll change your mind. Lara X
“I’m sorry.” He gave her a fleeting hug. “I need to get home.”
She watched him hurry in the opposite direction. What did she do now? Go have a drink by herself? Get hit on by the local talent? Or hide out in her apartment?
Being single sucked.
****
Jordan slept badly after playing squash with Nick. Sylvie’s innocent revelation tainted the way Jordan thought about him. He couldn’t stand to look at him, with this new knowledge. Maybe he felt so strongly because Kate was pregnant at the same time, after years of trying. A child was such a precious gift. It disgusted him that Nick would consider getting rid of it as easily as throwing out a piece of trash. There was no reason to justify doing that. Maybe Nick’s marriage was in trouble already, and he didn’t want the complication of a child? Was he having an affair?
He didn’t want to disturb Kate, and got up ridiculously early, to catch up on his emails. She was worried about the amount of work he was doing, but the next twelve months were crucial for TM-Tech. He needed the company to be as stable and secure as possible, so that he could hand off the day-to-day running and go back to a part-time presence. That was assuming he had another year.
He rubbed his eyes and hit the medicine cupboard for painkillers. By six-thirty, he was on his way to the office.
The morning was uplifting. Another major contract was announced, with a German technology group who wanted a series of electronic switches for their factories. Another small step to economic recovery.
Jordan had a lunch appointment with a guy he’d been trying to meet for months. It was typical that today, when he finally pinned down a meeting with Bart Russo, his head would be aching so hard he felt dizzy.
Jordan swallowed the last two painkillers in the blister pack and took a few minutes to compose himself before heading down in the elevator. He wasn’t sure he could hold any kind of conversation at the moment, let alone one revolving around business. Should he cancel? No. Not when Bart had made the trip especially to see him.
The first person Jordan saw in the lobby was Adele. She stood with Bart, in the middle of a lively conversation. Her hands sketched a shape in the air, and Bart laughed. He appeared captivated by her. Maybe Jordan could capitalise on this.
Adele spotted Jordan approaching and beamed at him. “I was keeping Mr. Russo company until you got here.”
“Thank you.” The men shook hands and exchanged greetings, before Jordan turned back to Adele. “How do you know each other?”
“I did some consultancy for him in Houston. I spotted him when I was passing through Reception.”
“Maybe Ms. Bisset could join us for lunch?” Bart’s voice was gruff as usual.
Jordan grabbed the idea like a lifeline. “Good idea. Can you join us, Adele?” With her there to drive the conversation, he might get through this without looking like an idiot.
“Thanks,” she said, her cheeks pinking. “I’d love to.”
Bart Russo owned and ran a small family company that manufactured specialist components, and TM-Tech had been trying for months to engineer a deal with them. If Adele helped swing this deal, Jordan would be happy.
They ate in a cosy Italian café—West End prices in a rustic setting—and Adele oozed charm all over Bart Russo. To Jordan’s relief, he barely had to say anything, just clarified a few contractual details.
The painkillers were slow to kick in. A stronger dosage would help, too. He had to tell Kate soon, but how?
Four years ago, in a case of mistaken identity, Jordan was beaten around the head with a baseball bat. It took months to recover, and the surgeon warned there might be problems in the future. It would only take one missed fragment of bone to embed itself in the soft brain tissues, and Jordan would be fucked.
The idea terrified him.
His attention drifted, and he dragged his focus back. Bart was happy with the deal they hammered out. He said his goodbyes and headed out, leaving Jordan alone with Adele.
“Well done,” he said. “That was good work. I was impressed.”
“Thank you.” She gave him a bashful smile. “I started in the sales team at TM-Tech, then moved into Comms, and more recently into the creative strategy side. That’s one of the things I love about the company—the chance to move around and gain experience in more than one area.”
He felt a conversation might be possible now, and this was a good time to talk to Adele in a more relaxed setting than the office. He couldn’t come out and ask if she was having an affair with Nick, but he could take some steps in that direction. “I’m going to have some peppermint tea. Can you stay a little longer?” He was the boss. She’d say yes.
Her eyes widened, and so did her smile. “I can stay for half an hour. I have a report to finish for my brilliant slave-driver boss, so I don’t want to be late back.”
It reminded him of the way Sylvie teased him the other day. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you a day’s grace, since I dragged you out for half the afternoon.”
“Drag away. The report’s nearly finished.”
She opted for decaffeinated coffee, and once the drinks were served, he jumped straight in. “How well do you know Nick Anderson?”
“Nick? We’re old friends from Uni. He was always a party animal. Has he toned himself down now?”
She blushed, and Jordan felt a ripple of suspicion. “I wouldn’t know,” he replied. “We play squash occasionally, but that’s all. Do you know his wife?”
There was a flicker of something on her face, but she masked it. “I’ve not met her yet, have you?”
Adele would make a terrible poker player. Jordan contemplated how far to take his questioning, but before he could say anything, she snapped her fingers.
“She’ll most likely be at the memorial service, so I’ll get to meet her then. Have you finalised the date for it yet?”
Good change of subject. His suspicions doubled. “Yeah. I’ll be issuing a communication tomorrow. It’s in two weeks.”
Sympathy flooded her gaze. “Did you know many of the casualties?”
Jordan’s mind flashed back to that awful day in all its horror. His mouth felt dry. “I knew all of them.” He saw Rico again in his head, being dragged from the ruins. His old friend. Jordan clenched his fist where it lay on the table.
“Marcus spoke about it a little,” said Adele. “He was badly hurt, wasn’t he?”
Another image exploded into Jordan’s brain. Marcus lying in a bloody heap on the floor. The awful thought that he was dead.
His temples started to throb again, and he massaged them with his fingers. “We’d better get back. You sort out a cab, while I settle the bill.” The day had been going well. He didn’t want to tarnish it by getting stressed about things he couldn’t change. It was all history now, but so damned hard to forget.