I don’t report him to Harriet. I don’t even harbour any ill feeling towards him. Instead, I look forward to my lunch date with my boss with a mixture of dread and anticipation. The last lunch I shared with anyone was Ronnie on the day he opened up a can of worms that led to the situation we’re in now. I wonder what this lunch will be like compared to that one?
So, at precisely 1pm, he heads outside his office with his tailored jacket slung over his shoulder and looking hotter than any man has the right to look during the working day and nods.
“Ready?”
Quickly, I gather my belongings and almost have to run to keep up with him as he strides towards the lift.
He makes no conversation and I wouldn’t know what to say if he demanded it. I’m coming to the conclusion that it’s better to wait to be asked than to offer any form of dialogue with this complicated man.
We step inside the lift and he punches the button for the ground floor and leans against the mirrored walls of the elevator. “You intrigue me, Mrs Carter, or can I call you Emma?”
I say in surprise, “You’re seriously asking me that?”
“What?” He looks puzzled and I laugh softly, probably the first time I have in his company. “You don’t strike me as the type who would ask for anything. I’m guessing if you wanted to call me by my first name, you would and not care if it concerned me or not.”
“You have a very low opinion of me, Emma.” He raises his eyes and I see a hint of mischief in them.
“I do.”
Shrugging, he yawns loudly and then says slightly irritably, “To be honest, you’re right. I do what I want, when I want, and to whom I want.”
Suddenly, the air is sucked out of the metal-lined box we are travelling in and I feel my pulse racing dangerously. He stares at me long and hard and says darkly, “Does that worry you… Emma?”
He whispers my name so softly I almost don’t hear it and find myself fixated on the mouth of the man who sets me on edge. I lean back against the walls for support and say nervously, “I don’t know.”
“What don’t you know?”
“How I feel about you.”
He looks at me with a cocky smile and it doesn’t surprise me. This man knows full well how powerful he is, which is why he gets away with things no ordinary person would. But he’s no ordinary man. No man can hold a candle to this one because he broke the mould when he was created. Cocky, sure of himself and so sexy he should be kept locked away for the protection of society. Paired with a hard edge, he’s brutal and cold and dangerous through and through and I have never wanted anyone as much as I do him.
We reach the lower floor and he stands straight and without a backward glance strides from the lift as if he owns the world. I actually think he does because the charisma that surrounds him is a powerful force.
As I scurry behind him, I see the women straighten up and their expressions soften, hoping for his gaze to fall onto them. It doesn’t. He ignores absolutely anyone who crosses his path, even the suited men who obviously play a major role in the running of this company.
He sees no one and just heads outside without even checking I’m behind him.
A car is waiting – which doesn’t surprise me, and the man that holds the door open nods respectfully as Julian climbs inside with no care for chivalry. I head around to the other side and the man follows me and opens the door courteously. Smiling brightly, I say loudly, “Thank you, you’re very kind.”
He nods and closes the door behind me.
Inside, the luxury of the car envelops me. Black leather on every surface and gleaming chrome. This car is as clean as if it just left the showroom, and it wouldn’t surprise me if it had. I can imagine even cars are disposable to Julian Landon, and I feel a shiver of desire as the power of the man sucks me in and ruins me forever.
Yes, Julian Landon will ruin me, and if I’m sure of anything, it’s that.
After ten minutes of silence while he checks his phone and demands no conversation, we pull up outside a smart looking restaurant with a black-and-white striped canopy outside. The man on the door is dressed in a fine red livery, and he opens the passenger door with respect and reverence. Julian moves past him without any acknowledgement and feeling embarrassed, I mouth ‘Thank you’ to the man and get a smile of appreciation in return.
We are met by a suited man who obviously excels at what he does because he says smoothly, “Good afternoon, sir, madam, your usual table is waiting.”
As expected, Julian strides through the smartest restaurant I have ever seen as if he owns it and it wouldn’t even surprise me if it turned out that he did.
We follow the man to a table by the window and it is obviously the best table they have because it’s both private and yet offers the customer the best view of both the room and the street outside. I take in the starched white tablecloth and polished silver cutlery. The crystal glasses sparkle in the sunlight and the flowers in the centre are fresh and seasonal. The candle that burns low in the glass holder mocks me as if it knows I don’t belong here and the padded seats that look both delicate and comfortable wait for us to sit and take delight in the poshest lunch I will probably ever have.
Then it strikes me that there are three seats and three place settings. Somebody is joining us; I wonder who it is.
I am soon put out of my misery because almost instantly I hear a well-educated drawl, “Darling, I’m sorry I’m late.”
I look up in surprise and do a double take because the woman joining us is stunning. She could be a supermodel and immediately I compare my own conservative suit with her white, silk trouser suit and costly jewellery that sparkles from her neck, her ears, her wrist and her fingers. Her long dark hair is styled beautifully and her make-up looks as if it was done professionally. I think I just stare open-mouthed as she air kisses Julian and looks at me dismissively as she takes her seat.
Julian smiles and I can’t help feeling he is enjoying this way too much as he looks at me and says easily, “Meet Cressida, my beautiful wife.” Then he turns to her and says softly, “Darling, this is Emma, she’s replaced Claire and today is her first day, so be gentle with her.”
His wife flicks her superior gaze over me and then dismisses me out of hand, saying slightly irritably, “You could have told me you were bringing your staff.”
“Why should I?”
His tone is sharp and as if he couldn’t care less, and she sighs irritably. “Because I wanted to spend time with you alone. We have things to discuss.” She looks at me and says tightly, “In private.”
Watching the two of them is interesting to say the least because they act like mere acquaintances instead of husband and wife. I detect no warmth, no genuine feeling, or even a mutual like for one another. This couple are as empty as Ronnie and I and it takes me all of two minutes to work that out.
Julian shrugs and consults his menu and as the waiter hovers nearby, he actually clicks his fingers and I look at him in disbelief as he says in a voice that demands no argument, “We will all have the house special menu with a bottle of Dom Perignon. Three bottles of water and a garden salad.”
He snaps the menu closed and the waiter heads off, leaving me speechless. What just happened, don’t we even get to choose our own meals?
His wife doesn’t appear bothered and just looks irritated by him and snaps.
“Fine, have it your way. Now, remember I’m off to Paris tonight for a couple of days. I’ll be taking the helicopter and the pilot.”
“I bet you are.” I allow my thoughts to entertain me far more than this couple of wax works and smirk as I take a sip of water, giggling inside at the way Julian’s eyes flash as he watches me.
“The girls are home this weekend and I have arranged activities that should keep them out of your hair for the duration. Nicola is going to take them out for a few excursions and she arranged for the Glastonbury’s children to visit and attend a sleepover.”
He looks alarmed and she smiles a little maliciously and says, “I’m sure you’ll cope, darling, maybe one of your lady friends can step up and actually be of some use for a change.”
I can’t believe they don’t remember I’m sitting here as I stare at my place setting awkwardly. This is awful and I wish I was having a sandwich at Pret a manger, in fact, McDonald’s would do because this is excruciating.
Julian says with an acid tongue. “You should know about entertaining friends, my darling, you’re getting in quite the practice. Maybe you would like to introduce me to these so-called friends of yours one day, that would be interesting.”
Her eyes flash and she hisses. “I could say the same for you, darling. I had to have the whole house deep cleaned after my last little trip away because of the stench of cheap trashy perfume that lingered on my bedsheets.”
Quickly, I stand and say, “Um… if you’ll excuse me.”
“Sit down.”
His voice is like a whip bringing me to my knees and I sit, shaking in my seat as the waiter delivers the champagne. There is silence as he pours the sparkling liquid into the glasses and then hurries away nervously. My hand shakes as I reach for the glass and for the first time Cressida looks at me and says sharply, “Good luck with your new job, you’re going to need it. Maybe you can do me a favour and keep my husband happy and away from me because god knows I can’t stand to be a minute more than I have to.”
She stands quickly and throws her napkin to the table. “Au revoir, darling, and enjoy your lunch. Don’t think I don’t know you engineered this little threesome just to avoid the conversation we should really be having. See you next Tuesday, darling.”
She smirks and strides from the restaurant, and I can’t help but giggle inside. I think I hold just a little tinge of respect for Cressida because she has done what I’m guessing nobody else would ever dare to, make her husband look like a complete fool in public.