Falling from Grace: A Billionaire Romantic Suspense series (The Filth Monger Series Book 1) (2 page)

I was about to ask her if she was okay, when Max called me from his office. ‘Grace – in here,
now
.’

I froze. It was his harshest, least forgiving, tone. He’d never used it on me. In fact, I’d only heard him use it once ever, after John Clyde, a complete asshole of an accounts manager, had messed up big time on a deal. John Clyde didn’t work for us anymore – didn’t work in banking anymore. Max had seen to that.

I looked at Pascale, but she didn’t meet my eye. My heart raced.
I’m ten minutes late, fifteen tops. What’s his problem? He never moans when I’m the last one here at night.

I wasn’t going to take his crap. I’d put him in his place, tell him just how lucky he was to have me. I took a deep breath, lifted my chin mutinously, and went into his office.

Max was sitting in his chair, his leg extended in front of him. He wasn’t alone. A man stood by his desk, his back to me. He turned as I entered, and smiled.

I looked at Max, then back at this stranger. He seemed amused. Clearly, men yelling at their long-suffering assistants did it for him. He was still smiling, anyway, standing there in the middle of Max’s office like he owned it. Or owned Max.

There was something in the way he towered over him that breathed superiority, and he
was
superior, in one way, at least. The shock of it – of him – hit me almost physically. I’d never imagined Max could appear second-rate or shoddy, but sitting there in front of this man, he did. He was like the artist’s crude first draft, displayed alongside the finished masterpiece. Everything I’d loved about Max seemed suddenly spoiled and swarthy. Too rough...too blunt…too obvious next to this stranger.

I wondered who he was, and when he was going to wipe that mocking grin off his face. I hadn’t seen him before, so he could’ve been anyone. A colleague, a friend…but I felt sure he was a client. His bone structure reeked wealth and breeding; the ironic hook of his eyebrow - confidence and entitlement. A Merchant Ivory film wrapped in a suit, he was still smiling - leaning back against the desk now, as if daring me to look at him. I deliberately glared at him and turned to Max just as his phone rang.

Max was looking up at me, his eyebrows raised. As he answered his phone, I tried to gather myself. I felt pinned between two opposing forces – commanded by Max, but overwhelmed by this stranger’s gaze. I attempted to focus on Max, wait for him to finish on the phone, but he’d really put me on edge. I glanced back at him, despite myself, and he winked at me. A tiny, almost imperceptible flutter of his dark eyelashes; the perfect frame to those murder-blue eyes.

He was doing it on purpose. He knew. He knew exactly what I was thinking, and he was getting off on it. Hell, I wasn’t even thinking. It was too primal for that, like the urges that had engulfed me in bed that morning. It was instinct, pure and simple. I wanted to get down on my knees before him, throw my arms around his ankles, and worship him. He knew it, and I hated him for it.

‘Look, I don’t know how you got through,’ Max said to whoever was on the line. ‘But I’ve told your lot already.
No comment
.’

He threw the phone down on his desk, and I finally wrenched myself from the man’s gaze, feeling clumsy and idiotic. Skirt-tucked-in-my-knickers stupid. It was as much as I could do to stop myself from checking it, there and then. Trust me to have rushed this morning. I wanted to be perfect, to go over every last detail of myself and make it right. Give him no reason to mock me. Max was still watching me too. My cheeks stung, the heat of their focus rendering me practically incoherent.

I threw the man another glare.
Leave me alone.

Whether he felt my pain, I don’t know, but he turned back to Max and held out his hand, cool and imperious.

‘Consider it done,’ he said. His accent matched his looks. I was right. Breeding and money, through and through. ‘Tell him I’ll be in touch.’

‘Much appreciated.’ Max flashed the man a terse smile. He didn’t look happy, but he stood up and extended his hand. The man shook it briefly and turned to go. He didn’t look any more comfortable than Max. I wondered what they’d been discussing.

As he passed me, his eyes met mine. He paused briefly and did a double-take. It was almost as if, after his initial assessment, he’d realised he knew me. But he didn’t. Not unless he’d seen me on TV, glued to Leo’s arm.

I didn’t move as he brushed past me. I even leaned towards him somewhat. I couldn’t help myself. He smiled again, and I frowned, angry at my body for betraying me. He must have had women dripping from him like diamonds. What was I even thinking? He gave me a curious backwards stare as he went, but that was hardly surprising. I’d made a complete fool of myself. Either that, or he was wondering what the hell I’d done.

If that were the case, I knew how he felt.

I turned to Max, still flushed with shame and annoyance. He’d sat down again and was leaning back in his chair, regarding me coolly.

‘Enjoying the view, Grace?’ he said. He leaned toward me, almost conspiratorially. ‘Don’t worry. I get it. I do. I understand. But what are you even doing here?’ He leaned further forward, steepling his fingers and frowning. ‘Go home, Grace.’

‘I…I’m sorry?’ I could feel the heat, radiating off me in pulses, as his words sank in. This wasn’t about me being late. It was something far worse. I’d really pissed him off somehow, and now I’d made a fool of myself in front of…well…whoever Mr Arrogant might be. Even so, I wasn’t expecting this.

‘I said, go home. Go to a friend’s, your mum’s, wherever.’ He stood up. ‘You’re not needed here today. D’you understand?’

I didn’t understand at all. I was always needed. Even when I had a holiday booked – and it was always done months in advance, in case it interfered with some pressing need of his – he always made me feel guilty as hell for taking it.

He looked half fierce, half…something else. His jaw – which was always strong and square – stuck out so determinedly it looked almost lantern-like. A caricature of Mr Arrogant. His voice, when he spoke again, was softer, but no less definite. ‘Find somewhere else to be,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘It was always on the cards, I suppose you know that. But quite frankly, we could do without the intrusion, and I’m sure you could do without having to run around after me.’

I still didn’t speak, just looked at him standing there, calm and unruffled in his crisp, grey suit, and wondered if he’d gone stark raving mad. In fact, I was sure, at the time, he had. What the hell did he think I’d done, for Christ’s sake? I’d done nothing. Nothing to deserve this summary treatment.

I lifted my chin and turned away, dizzy with disbelief. I was about to walk out of the office when he spoke again. ‘I’m sorry, Grace,’ he said. ‘Really, I am. It can’t be easy. We’ll see you next week, okay?’

‘Okay,’ I said, trying hard to keep the wobble from my voice. What the hell was he on about? Why would whatever I’d done be okay next week? Had I made some catastrophic error? Was he covering my back, trying to rectify things, while I was at home, twiddling my thumbs, presumably suspended from duty?

‘And you do understand?’ He looked almost beseeching, and reached out to me. For one mad moment, I thought he was actually going to put his arms round me… hug me…. but he didn’t. We both stood there, staring at each other for what seemed an eternity of awkwardness, and it was only when he spoke again that I realised I hadn’t answered.

‘You do understand, Grace,’ he repeated. ‘Don’t you?’

‘I suppose.’ My reply was almost inaudible. I looked down at the floor. I couldn’t bear him to see the humiliation in my eyes.

He said nothing else, so presumably the interview was over. I left his office, trying hard to keep my composure, to act as if everything was normal, when it so totally wasn’t.

Everyone knew, anyway. I could tell the minute I glanced around the office. They were all looking over at me from their booths, several with phones hanging uselessly in their hands.

Why hadn’t I asked him what I'd done? What had I just stood there and taken it, as if I knew exactly what he was talking about? Why couldn’t I stand up for myself? I looked around for a friendly face amongst all the embarrassed stares.

Liv! Liv Perry was there, thank God, sitting at her desk. The one person I could depend on. She looked unabashed, but her eyes were just as wide and anxious as Pascale’s had been just a few minutes before. Christ, it felt like a lifetime ago, but it really had been just a few minutes.

I stumbled over to her desk, and collapsed in the chair next to hers. It wouldn’t be needed for an hour at least. Jeremy was always late. Came in when he wanted, and no one ever asked questions. If only I were already an accounts manager. They got away with anything, if they were good at their job. If I were on their level, I wouldn’t be in this god-awful mess.

‘He’s…’ I gulped hard, and racked my brain for an appropriate description. ‘A total dick.’

Liv put her hand over mine, and gave me a sad smile. ‘He is, hon. A total,
total
dick. And an idiot.’

‘Yes he is.’ I was starting to feel angry now. ‘I do everything for him. He doesn’t know when he’s well off.’

‘I know, hon, I know. They never do. That’s the trouble with men.’ She patted my hand. ‘They always think the grass is greener. I should know.’

I managed a smile, knowing Liv’s dating history. It was a disaster of biblical proportions, but hardly relevant at the moment. I decided to bring the conversation back on track.

I took a deep breath, knowing my next statement was likely to get me into more trouble, if that were even possible. I hardly cared. It seemed unlikely anyone would overhear, anyway. The phones were practically ringing off the hook. I’d never known a morning like it. A fine day to chuck me out of the office…

‘Fucking, fucking Max Flint,’ I declared, in fury.

‘Max?’ If Liv had been standing up, I swear she’d have taken a step backwards. As it was, she merely jolted a little, and stared at me as if I were crazy. ‘What’s Max done?’

‘Sent me home,’ I said, the frustration spilling over into my voice, and tingeing it with sarcasm. ‘I thought you knew.’

‘Aw.’ Liv looked over towards Max’s office. ‘Just when I thought I knew the ruthless bastard, he pulls the rug out on me. What a sweetie.’

‘You’re joking.’ I stared at her. ‘Right?’

‘No, I…’ She paused and her expression softened. She looked troubled again. ‘You don’t know, do you?’

‘Know?’ This morning wasn’t getting any better. Every time I thought I was getting a handle on it, I was blindsided again. ‘No, I don’t. What the hell’ve I done?’

Liv bent down and pulled her bag from under her desk. It was enormous, more like a rucksack, and contained the most improbable things. Everyone called it her Mary Poppins bag. She stood up. ‘Let’s go up to the restaurant, if you can face it. Get a bottle of wine. You’re gonna need it.’

The staff restaurant was up on the fourteenth floor. Liv had hold of my hand, and steered me towards the bar, past the handful of employees still gulping down a quick breakfast before the work of the day began.

‘A bottle of white, please, Anton,’ she said, leaning on the counter. I hovered behind her. She was still holding my hand, and she squeezed it then, brief but firm. Reassuring.

‘Wine?’ Anton looked doubtfully at his watch. ‘It’s barely nine in the morning. I really don’t think…’

‘Wine, Anton,’ repeated Liv. She nodded behind her, to where I was standing. Anton followed her gesture with his eyes. When they hit me, they widened considerably. God, it was getting ridiculous.

He still looked doubtful. There were probably laws against selling alcohol before a particular time. I didn’t have a clue. I rarely drank.

Finally, he nodded. ‘Just this once.’

Liv steered me over to a table by the window. It could’ve been a great view, if it weren’t for all the blank, staring windows of the flat, modern buildings opposite. It felt like everyone and everything were staring at me that morning. It was almost surreal.

Anton brought the wine over to our table, where he placed it gently, almost reverently, before shuffling away backwards to the bar. I watched him go, perplexed. I turned back to Liv, who was already sloshing wine into my glass. When it was full to nearly overflowing, she poured a meagre half glass for herself. Well, she was expected back in the office at some point. I wasn’t.

‘Tell me, Liv.’ I ran my finger around the top of my glass, catching the splash marks with my fingertip. Even as I said it, I half didn’t want to know. Whatever it was that’d happened, it was clearly god-awful. I felt almost sick with nerves. Better to get it over with.

‘Drink first.’

I took a sip of wine. It was harsh and sharp on my tongue, and I suddenly realised I hadn’t had as much as a glass of water yet, that morning. I didn’t think I could face wine, and went to put it down.

‘
Drink.
’ Liv was fumbling in her Mary Poppins bag, and didn’t even look up.

I took another sip.

‘All of it.’

‘Really?’ I looked up at her. ‘The whole glass?’

‘The whole glass.’

Her tone brooked no argument. I lifted it reluctantly to my lips, tipped my head back slightly, and gulped down half its contents, droplets spilling down my chin in my desperation to end the tart, overpowering assault on my mouth. By the time I’d managed to finish it, Liv had put her handbag down, and was clutching a newspaper.