Unbound (27 page)

“Because of the story in the gossip rag?”

Annie shakes her head unhappily. “That was just the final straw, so to speak. They were already talking about you.”

That shocks me. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?” I ask reproachfully.

“I didn’t want to make you self-conscious,” Annie says, placing her hand on mine. “I like you, Grace. They stopped talking to me about it altogether because they know I’m on your side.” She sighs. “But I told you right from the start: Jonathan Huntington has never hired an intern to work with him directly. Of course people talked about it, just because it was so unusual. And there are plenty of women in the company who have a crush on the boss, but who’ve come to terms with it because he’s so unapproachable. They were pretty pissed off when you received special treatment. And now it’s on the cover of
Hello!
and everyone can see that you’ve obviously managed to do something which was apparently impossible, you’ve managed to snag him for yourself—that came as a big shock to them, believe me.”

“But I haven’t snagged him for myself,” I say, defensively.

“The details aren’t important; for them it’s quite enough that you got as close to him as you did.” Annie sighs. “Do you remember Caroline from down in reception? I didn’t even know she belonged to the Jonathan Huntington fan club, but she was very curious about what must be happening between the two of you. And today, finally, all hell broke loose. Be thankful you weren’t there.”

I feel a chill creeping up my back when I realize how naive I’ve been. I was so preoccupied with Jonathan and my feelings for him that I didn’t notice anything that was going on around me. Annie didn’t want to hurt my feelings, so she warned me about Jonathan but not about the trouble brewing at the company.

But I did notice the hostile looks Catherine Shepard often gave me. And that a few employees looked away when I walked down the hallway. It wouldn’t have occurred to me that I was interesting enough for them to want to talk about me. This whole thing is clearly threatening to spin completely out of control.

“But if I don’t show up anymore, it will look as though I’m chickening out.” I shake my head, as if to emphasize that I’m not going to do that under any circumstances. “The internship is a great opportunity for me, Annie. I can’t just give it up.” “You might have considered that before you got involved with Jonathan Huntington,” she says in her blunt way.

“Those two things have nothing to do with each other,” I whine. “I’m afraid no one cares,” Annie says. “Now they’ll just see what they want to see. At least, most of them will.” She looks at me pityingly. “So if you really do want to go back, you’re going to need nerves of steel.” She’s right, I think despairingly, feeling tears of helplessness stinging my eyes. So that’s how easy it is to get a reputation of being a slut.

“But I’m on your side,” Annie comforts me, when she sees how distressed I am. “I’ll make sure they leave you in peace.”

I smile at her gratefully, but then we both turn around in shock when we hear a key turning in the apartment door. Someone enters with heavy steps and shortly afterwards Marcus appears in the kitchen doorway. He’s wearing a tracksuit and he’s really sweaty, he’s obviously been out for a run.

“Hi, Marcus,” Annie greets him and he returns the greeting, confused, observing us with furrowed brow. He obviously wasn’t expecting us to be here. Then he spots the copy of
Hello!
on the table.

I’m just able to suppress an urge to put my hand over the photo of Jonathan and me, even though it’s unnecessary. Because of the way the magazine is lying, he can’t recognize anything anyway, in theory. But he seems to somehow know what’s on the cover because his expression turns gloomy. And he didn’t exactly look happy before, I suddenly notice.

“Jonathan Huntington gave you a ride home, did he?” he asks, and his voice sounds scathing.

I remember that evening almost two weeks ago when I’d forgotten my key, Marcus came down while I was standing in front of the door with Jonathan. Although I don’t actually owe him an explanation, I still feel myself turning red and I’m unable to answer.

“I guess you know what you’re doing,” he says scornfully, and turns around and disappears into the bathroom without another word. Shortly afterwards, we hear water running.

“Ouch,” Annie says, smiling at me supportively, probably because he can see how much Marcus’s reaction has hurt my feelings. “I think someone’s jealous.”

I shrug my shoulders unhappily. “I can’t help it, Annie. I didn’t want to fall in love with Jonathan.”

“I know.” She sighs. “It’s not always something you can decide. Now we need to make sure that we get you through this safe and sound.”

Her words haunt me when I’m lying in bed later, staring at the ceiling. If I hoped that things would get better and that I’d see things more clearly as soon as I got away from Jonathan, then I was obviously wrong. If anything, I’m even more confused than I was before. And besides, I’m longing for him, even though I hate to admit it. I miss him, terribly even. As soon as I close my eyes, I can see his face in front of me, see those blue eyes, which you can lose yourself in, and feel his fingers on my skin, which can get me fired up so damn quickly; hear his deep voice, which can sound like a caress. I honestly have no idea how this can go on. But I know one thing for sure: I’m not going to run away. It won’t be that bad, I console myself, before falling into a restless sleep.

***

But the next day, everything is far worse than I feared. Annie wakes up with a fever and a very sore throat, and has to stay in bed, so she can’t accompany me to the office as planned. And Marcus hasn’t gotten over it yet either. He’s keeping to his room, and when we meet in the hallway briefly, he responds to my greeting with a stony face before disappearing into the bathroom. Even Ian doesn’t have time for a breakfast conversation that would take my mind off things, because he’s got his hands full looking after Annie, making her tea and getting her meds, before he has to leave. I’m all alone with my fears.

I spend a long time in front of the mirror, considering what to wear today, and finally decide on the brown vintage dress that Annie found for me. When I add the fashionable boots, it looks really good: not boring, but not as daring as the black dress I had on yesterday. I feel comfortable in it, which can’t hurt, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m really nervous.

“Fingers crossed,” Annie croaks, smiling at me as I say goodbye to her. Her eyes are shiny with fever and she can hardly speak. I say a silent apology to her in my mind, for having wished she would go to hell when she said she wouldn’t be able to come to the office with me. She’s clearly really sick, and shouldn’t be at work in her condition under any circumstances.

Downstairs by the door, I look out for possible photographers lying in wait, but it’s all quiet. Perhaps, I think hopefully, Jonathan was exaggerating. Perhaps the press doesn’t find me as exciting as he thought.

On the subway ride into town, everything is the same as normal, but when I arrive at the Huntington Ventures building there really are various photographers loitering by the entrance. When they see me, they’re set in motion and before I can enter the lobby I’m surrounded. I have to hold my hands up in front of my face because they get so close to me that their flashes are blinding me.

“Miss Lawson, when are going to marry Lord Huntington?” one of them shouts.

“Are you very much in love with him?”

“What’s it like to have an affair with one of Europe’s most eligible bachelors?”

The questions rain down on me, together with the clicking of cameras. I rattle the door, trying to open it, but at first it won’t budge. Then it suddenly opens and someone grabs me by the arm and pulls me into the lobby, where it’s suddenly much quieter. The glass door is clearly a natural boundary because the pack doesn’t follow me inside; they just carry on snapping pictures from outside.

The man who grabbed my arm is a brawny guy in a blue uniform, which reminds me of an American police uniform. He shoves me further inside the lobby, while his colleague, who is dressed identically, stands at the door and stops the photographers from entering the building.

“Everything OK, Miss?” the man asks me. He’s positioned himself in such a way that his broad back shields me from the view of the lurking journalists.

I nod, apprehensively. “Yes, thank you very much.”

“No problem,” he says, “they won’t get in here. We’ve got instructions not to let any photographers into the building.”

I nod gratefully and try to pull myself together again. Jonathan wasn’t exaggerating; if anything it’s much worse. As I have no idea what to do next, I turn to the reception—and meet Caroline’s gaze as she looks me up and down coolly.

“We’ve never had quite such a circus here,” she says, and the reproach in her voice is unmistakable. “Luckily, Mr. Huntington predicted this and informed the security company. Otherwise we’d probably not be able to work here at all. But it’s still very annoying,” she informs me snottily.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. What can I say? I didn’t call in the photographers. But I assume it would be pointless to try to justify myself, so I head quickly for the elevator. Instead of going to the fourth floor as I intended, I instinctively press the topmost button, because I suddenly have an urgent need to speak with Jonathan.

But when I reach the management floor, Catherine Shepard receives me with the same sour, mocking smile I got from Caroline.

“Mr. Huntington isn’t there,” she announces with a satisfied expression, catching me by surprise. It didn’t occur to me that Jonathan might not be at the office. But, of course, I think, he’s probably with Sarah.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“He said he wasn’t coming in at all today,” she replies, not bothering to conceal her hostility toward me anymore.

“Also, he mentioned that from today you will be continuing your internship in the investment department.”

I swallow hard because I feel so dumb, being up here at all. I’m returning to Annie and her colleagues at my own request, after all. But somehow I didn’t think Jonathan would accept it quite so readily. It sounds so terribly final, as if he’s put an end to the whole thing. To the thing with me.

“That’s correct,” I say. “I just wanted to …say goodbye.”

It’s a lame excuse, and the beautiful Catherine knows it. She just raises her eyebrows eloquently.

“Goodbye, Miss Lawson,” she says, giving me a very cold smile.

I don’t say anything else, just turn around and re-enter the elevator, and ride down to the fourth floor with hunched shoulders. The smile of greeting I get from Veronica Hetchfield when I enter her office is much friendlier than Catherine Shepard’s, but there’s also a trace of pity in it. My announcement that I’m going to be working in the investment department again doesn’t seem to surprise her.

“Aw, love, don’t worry about it,” she says, patting my arm. I realize with horror that she believes Jonathan threw me out of his office and sent me back to them.

“I’m back here voluntarily,” I assure her hastily, but I can see from the way she’s looking at me that she doesn’t believe that. It’s like running the gantlet; it’s been worse than I could have imagined. Everyone seems superficially friendly and natural, but I can feel the looks I’m getting, and I can hear the whispers. It’s only thanks to Clive Renshaw’s professional behaviour that I was able to get through the morning meeting more or less in one piece. He clearly intends to ignore all rumors about his boss and me; he’s actively including me and going to great trouble to behave as if everything were completely normal. But even he’s got me under constant observation, and by the time I get back to my little office at the end of the hallway, my nerves are so shattered that my hands are shaking.

Without Annie here at my side to protect me at least a little, I feel terribly alone. It was a stupid idea to reject Jonathan’s help. He was totally right. It no longer matters what I do—people are going to talk now, whether I’m with him or not. In fact, I’ve made things even worse for myself because some of the meaner employees must be busily smirking more than ever, at the thought that our affair is obviously already over. And it is over, I think unhappily. Because I was so stubborn and I didn’t listen to Jonathan.

I remember his angry face and the words I threw at him as I was getting out of the limousine. I doubt he’ll want me anywhere near him now. I’ve probably ruined everything—and I’m going to suffer anyway.

I know I should sit tight if I really want to stay. Perhaps this will all blow over again in a few days, if I just hold on and put on a brave face. But perhaps not, I think, sighing, and I jump when the door suddenly opens.

A department employee with whom I haven’t had many dealings until now—Emma, I think her name is—sticks her head in the door. “Sorry. I just need to get to the files for a moment.” I invitingly indicate the cabinets with my hand. “Be my guest.” She comes in, opens a drawer, and searches frantically through the hanging files inside, but somehow doesn’t seem to be concentrating on the job at hand. I can’t help noticing that her eyes keep darting over to me, even though I’m pretending to read some papers lying on my desk. It’s quite obvious that she was just looking for an opportunity to observe me more closely. I stare at the documents helplessly, wishing she would leave. Which she doesn’t, of course. But luckily my cell starts ringing, which distracts me. At first I want it to be Hope and then for a brief, desperate moment, I hope it’s Jonathan, telling me he’s getting me out of here. But it’s not Hope and it’s not Jonathan either. It’s Sarah Huntington.

“Hello, Grace. I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she says.

“Um, no,” I stutter, confused, staring at Emma, who’s stopped pretending to search for something in the files and is now watching me with undisguised curiosity. Why did Jonathan’s sister call me? I find out a second later, since she gets to the point right away.

“Listen, would you perhaps have time to visit me at the hospital?” she asks, and tags on a hopeful “right away?”