Legally Addicted (16 page)

Georgia’s voice had risen to almost a shout. It took him a few seconds to register that Georgia was fully aroused, but not at all in the ‘let’s have a little afternoon delight way’ he had been hoping for.

But before he could respond, she was speaking again, ‘I’ll tell you who you are. You’re a sickening, wealthy parasite.’

Suddenly she had a problem with the cost of their jaunt to the Pacific? It hadn’t stopped her chugging back the French champagne or accepting a trip to a resort on a corporate jet. Where the hell was this coming from? He lifted his hand, palm outwards, to motion her to stop speaking, but she was so far on a roll there was no stopping her.

‘You’ve had so much handed to you that you haven’t even got the first idea of what it is to struggle.’

He had known struggle. He had fought his parents to study law and again to go into practice rather than joining the family business. He was still fighting. It was a daily struggle to manage his family business commitments and carve out a place discrete from the corporate juggernaut of the Spencer family firm that constantly threatened to engulf him, stripping away his hard won separate identity.

But her small hands, balled into white knuckled fists at her side, and reddening cheeks told him now wasn’t the time for a reasonable discussion about life’s challenges.

‘Listen, Georgia. Neither of us can help what we were born into. I didn’t ask for all of this to be ‘handed to me’ as you put it, but do you see me judging you for your background? No, and yet you seem quite comfortable judging me.’

‘I judge based on what I see, and from where I’m standing you have no respect for your staff.’

He shook his head. His father might have been a skirt-chaser and absent parent, but his legacy as an employer had been a record of fair treatment that was second to none, and one that Brad was at pains to continue.

‘And you’re basing that on, what — half a day here? Prejudice is just as ugly flowing in any direction, Georgia.’

Now Brad’s hackles were beginning to rise. She might have grown up in poverty, but it didn’t give her exclusive rights to scale the moral high ground and lay claim to it as her own.

‘What? You think I’m some kind of reverse snob?’ she said, the barest hint of understanding crossing her face.

‘If the cap fits.’

She was still struggling to come up with a response when he turned on his heel and left.

Georgia wrestled to gain her composure. She had replayed their argument at least a hundred times, when the knock on the door she had been half expecting finally interrupted the unhelpful internal role-playing. She wiped the smudges of mascara she knew would be under her eyes, pinched her cheeks and took in a deep breath. If Brad was big enough to come and apologise, she would take her share of the humble pie; not that she would apologise for what she had said, but she was sorry for how she had said it.

At least this trip had confirmed her instincts. As much as she might wish things could be different, she didn’t belong in Brad’s life and if that had been in the least bit hazy before, it was now absolutely crystal.

But when she opened the door it wasn’t Brad. It was the waiter who had served them at breakfast, standing on the deck with a large envelope in his hand.

‘Excuse me, madam, but Mr Spencer asked me to give you this.’

He handed her the envelope and before she could say anything scuttled back down the path towards the resort.

Curious, she ripped the envelope open, expecting some sort of apology or peace offering.

Inside was a ticket for a commercial flight back to Sydney and an airport transfer made out in her name. She looked at the date and time. Brad was sending her home, immediately.

Economy class.

Chapter Eleven

Brad paced the office that had been made available to him during his stay by the resort manager, his fury beginning to subside, and along with it, his appetite for retribution.

Damn it.

That stupid economy class ticket wasn’t just revenge, it was humiliation, and the direct opposite of Miriam’s advice to ‘make like a knight in shining armour’.

Finally it had dawned on him what was going on with Georgia. She wasn’t just prickly about his wealth because she was jealous. She was suspicious and afraid of it, and what it could mean: abuse of position, misuse of power, exploitation. Exactly what he had seen Georgia deal with, when Paris Walsh and Caro Marsden decided to abuse their position and social status to shore up their own insecurities by putting her down.

Putting her down.

Pretty much what he was doing now, sending her home on a regular flight seated in cattle class.

‘It’s okay. This car is good. No problem like before. I’ll get you to the airport safe — no worries.’

Georgia caught the driver’s apologetic face in the rear-vision mirror.

What was the driver talking about? What problem?

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.’

‘The tyres on the other car — they were no good.’

‘The tyres on the SUV were bald?’ she asked, feeling the initial downwards pitch of realisation in her stomach.

‘Yes, miss, Mr Spencer, he’s a fair boss, though. He gave me another chance.’

‘The Spencer family, how are they thought of here?’ she asked, part of her wanting to confirm the conclusion that she had misjudged Brad, and yet at the same dreading it.

‘Big respect. They do a lot. Build new church and a school, pay for health care, and give money for our kids to study in Australia and New Zealand — long waiting list to get a job at the resort. Everyone wants to work for the Spencers.’

Georgia wasn’t sure what made her feel worse, the fact she had overreacted and put everything at risk, or the prospect of having to admit to Miriam that she had bolted again. Not that leaving was her choice, but somehow she didn’t think her secretary would see it that way.

‘I’m sorry, Mr…’

‘Call me Manu.’

‘Manu, can you turn this car around and take me back to the resort? I think I’ve forgotten something.’

‘No worries miss, whatever you forget, we give to Mr Spencer to bring back to you. I have to get you to the airport on time, or I lose my job for real this time.’

‘Please, Manu, it’s important.’

‘I’m sorry, miss, but Mr Spencer gave instructions for you to be at the airport right away.’

Georgia sat back, resigned to making the trip to the airport, whether she liked it or not.

When they arrived, Apia’s small international airport terminal was packed. It seemed like everyone departing and arriving had their whole extended family there to see them off or welcome them.

It wasn’t difficult to tell the difference. The arrival families grinned in wide smiles; many held floral leis ready to place around the neck of the arrivals, and small leis made of sweets that she guessed were for children. The families seeing loved ones off sat crumpled around the terminal. Georgia could just as easily have slumped down among them.

Instead, she asked one of a group of forlorn looking women, cooling themselves with straw fans, where she could find a taxi back to the resort.

After a dusty ride back to the Spencer hotel complex, Georgia waited in the air conditioned reception area, while a resort staff member located Brad. She sat down, then stood up, then sat down again. She tried to read a magazine, but then abandoned it. She was too keyed up.

After what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes later, Brad strolled into the reception area wearing a sheepish expression that mirrored hers.

‘I’m sorry, Georgia. I only lost it with the staff because I wanted everything to be perfect for you.’

He apologised unselfconsciously, and loud enough for the receptionist to hear.

‘I’m sorry too. The driver told me what happened. I had it all wrong.’

He smiled at her.

‘So, I’m not the wicked capitalist taking advantage of local workers that you first thought?’

‘No.’

‘Shall we just forget this whole thing and enjoy the rest of the weekend?’

‘Sounds good to me.’

She should have felt relieved, but somehow discovering that Brad didn’t fit the stereotype of the exploitative property developer sent her stomach pitching up and down like a rollercoaster. It seemed as if every time she thought she had Brad accurately categorised within a four-sided space, he found some way of defying her classification and jumping out of the box she had put him in.

Brad wasn’t like all the other rich people she’d had the misfortune to meet.

He was different. He had class and integrity and he obviously cared about her in a way no-one ever had before.

She was at serious risk of falling for this guy. If she thought that whatever this was could only be temporary, she had been kidding herself.

And…it scared the very bejeezus out of her.

Back at the office in Sydney after the minibreak in Samoa with Georgia, Brad felt remarkably refreshed. Once they had both apologised following the horrendous airline ticket incident, the rest of the weekend had been uneventful. Well, not completely uneventful. He smiled, recalling the make-up sex. It had been almost worth the argument. Something had changed with Georgia. He couldn’t put his finger on it exactly, but she seemed more relaxed around him, more at ease. Maybe it was the surroundings. A tropical resort could have that effect on a person, but whatever it was, he wasn’t complaining.

His smile collapsed, however, when he looked up to respond to his secretary, Louise. His assistant was puffed from running in front of a determined Caro who, at a full head taller than his secretary, was visible behind his assistant. Louise had stopped in the doorway, gripping the frame to prevent Caro charging on through.

‘I’m sorry, Brad, Mrs Marsden doesn’t have an appointment but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.’

‘That’s okay, you can let her in.’

Caro barely waited for his assistant to step out of the way before barrelling through the door to his office.

‘Brad, I’m glad I caught you.’

Brad clamped his teeth together to avoid letting out an oath. He looked at his watch. He had only been back at work an hour and he had his usual legal work, a pile of Spencer Trust documents to review, and the financial statements from the resort to go over. He also had Georgia’s addiction centre proposal to read, which she had given him on the plane trip back to Sydney. The last thing he needed now was Caro Marsden wittering on about napkin colours, seating plans and God damn canapés.

Caro Marsden waved a set of bright red talons in the direction of the empty chair opposite his desk.

‘Take a seat,’ he said, quite sure she was about to anyway. ‘If it’s about the gala — ’

‘You know she’s only interested in you for your money. She wants you to fund this ludicrous addiction centre idea of hers.’

Brad’s brain lurched forwards as Caro cut him off, electing to open the conversation somewhere in the middle of her own spite filled thoughts.

‘So we’re talking about Georgia then are we, Caro?’

‘Georgia, yes — keep up Brad, who else? Georgia is playing you.’

Caro had a nerve. He could appreciate that the woman had his best interests at heart. As his mother’s friend she obviously felt she was doing him a favour, but his patience was rapidly wearing out.

‘I think you’ve got her completely wrong, Caro. Georgia’s never asked for anything from me — in fact, quite the opposite.’

‘Playing it cool is she? Well she’s got more sense than I’ve given her credit for, but it’s only a matter of time before she comes looking for money.’

‘That’s enough, Caro. I’m sorry, but we will just have to agree to disagree where Georgia is concerned, so if there is nothing else?’

‘Of course, Bradley. I’ll shut up now that I’ve said what I came to say on that particular topic, but just don’t say you weren’t warned. Without your mother here I felt a duty, but I won’t press the point. Now about the gala, I had a few ideas…’

Brad looked at his watch, pulling back his sleeve and staring at it, meaningfully this time, before looking up. For once the ridiculous timepiece his mother had given him was good for something.

‘I don’t have much time, Caro, and I’ve been meaning to tell you, I’ve delegated my role in that to Jeffrey, my butler. I understand that you’ve worked with him before?’

‘Oh yes,’ Caro’s face lit up. ‘Jeffrey is fantastic. So resourceful and well organised and yet never oversteps his position.’

Unlike Georgia, he thought, who had the balls to not just overstep her position, but to take a running jump at it and sail over the top.

‘Thanks for dropping in, Caro. Always a pleasure,’ he lied.

Brad stood up from his desk, and walked over to his door, opening it wide in his standard manoeuvre for propelling out any client who had outstayed their welcome. It rarely failed, as the client reacted subconsciously to the command inherent in the body language.

Thankfully Caro proved to be no exception to the rule, following him to the threshold like a lamb, walking through the door and the heading back towards reception with a wave over her shoulder. But Brad was only able to manage a few more minutes working on his files before Georgia appeared in the doorway to his office.

He smiled at her, catching her quizzical marine blue eyes. If he had to be interrupted he couldn’t think of a better reason.

In his opinion most Sydney women wore their business clothes far tighter than good taste allowed, but Georgia had the figure to carry it off, and having seen her body in the flesh he had no objection to the second skin like cut of Georgia’s suit. The effect of her skirt clinging to the perfect curve of her hips echoed in his gut, igniting pleasant memories of the previous forty-eight hours.

‘I saw you had Caro in here?’ Georgia said, a worried look creeping over her face.

The mention of that dreadful woman’s name was like dose of ice-water dumped on Brad’s head.

Both of them.

Immediate turn-off.

Which given the amount of work he had piled up was probably a good thing.

He reoriented his gaze upwards to Georgia’s face. A little less distracted now, he noticed that she seemed tentative, lingering at the door jamb, as if she was only brave enough to advance that far. She was no doubt conscious of the potential for client-solicitor privilege. If Caro had visited him for legal reasons, it would be inappropriate to ask him about it, but even so, Georgia seemed unusually anxious.