I had only just entered my cubicle and thrown my bags onto the desk when my boss, Spencer, called me into his office. I sighed. Fixing my makeup was my priority but duty calls. Oh well, he’d have to deal with the smudged eyes.
Wandering over to his office, the heels of my boots clicked on the refurbished timber boards. I raised my hand and lightly tapped on the doorframe. “You asked to see me, Mr Hughes?”
Standing well over six-feet tall, with broad, muscular shoulders, and warm chocolate brown eyes, Spencer Hughes was every woman’s dream and every man’s worst nightmare. His presence alone was captivating. Looking up from the folder on his desk, he brushed flopping chestnut brown hair off his forehead and greeted me with a smile most women would fall over; broad, and dashing, as was the person wearing it.
“Please, come on in and take a seat.” He gestured towards one of the replica Hans Wegner plank armchairs adjacent to his solid redgum desk, ideally situated in front of the widely arched windows behind him.
Peering over his desk, I soon realised the folder in front of him was, in fact, my portfolio. Curious as to why he had it, and expecting the worst, I asked, “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, everything is more than all right, actually,” Spencer assured me grinning. “Now, Teddy, I’ve been glancing over your latest work, and I must say, I’m impressed. You have talent, initiative and quite the instinct when it comes to the client’s needs. By that, I mean, you listen, and follow the brief to a tea – even if you do disagree with them.” He chuckled when I grimaced at him. “You’re incredibly persuasive, by showing them what does and doesn’t work without compromising on the client’s style.
Furthermore, you’re extremely thorough with your research. You ensure the whole development runs smoothly, and to me, as such, it shows you have passion. Which is necessary for this business, and you most certainly have it. You have become quite the asset to this firm,” Spencer told me, his steepled hands clasping in a relaxed manner in front of him.
My mouth gaped, astonished by Spencer’s overly generous review. “I don’t know what to say, Mr Hughes, other than I’m truly flattered.”
He gave another beaming smile. “Spencer, please, you’ve been here long enough. We’re casual here.”
“I’ve only been here about two years,” I corrected, blush flaming my cheeks. “But it does feel distinctly longer. I enjoy working here and have learnt such a lot in a brief time.”
He nodded warmly. “Good. Now, last, but not least, you passed the Architectural Practice examinations with flying colours; I received confirmation Friday evening.” Spencer continued his review, “So, I feel it’s safe to say you are now a fully registered architect.” He grinned rising from his tan leather office chair. “Congratulations, Teddy.”
“Thank you, Spencer; I wouldn’t have made it this far without you as my mentor.” Beaming at him, I quickly pushed to my feet, his large hand enveloping mine as we shook over the top of the desk.
“No, no way. I assure you,” he disagreed modestly, “it was all you. You’ve worked extremely hard and showed dedication; that’s what got you here. I only guided you along the way.” He gently ushered me towards the door. “Keep up the amazing work.”
With an extra skip in my step, I bounced back to my desk and noticed my co-worker Emily Smith’s dark eyes smiling up at me. “What? I’m just euphoric.”
“You got the ‘fully registered’ speech I see.” She grinned, jumping out of her chair to hug me tightly. It wasn’t any secret that Spencer gave all newly qualified employees the same speech. “Congratulations!”
“Thanks, Ems.”
Only just promoted herself, Emily began at Bricks and Mortar shortly after I had. We clicked immediately, only in the professional sense. Apart from my roommates, I preferred it that way. After years of endless pain and heartache, it tended to leave you not only wary but also sceptical as to who I allowed in my life.
For the remainder of the day, my high spirits continued. Not even the deluge of rain outside could dampen my day. I flicked a generic text to my roommates about my plans for a night out in the city, one filled with dinner and drinks for starters. Then after that, who knew? Our celebrations could lead us anywhere. The next question was, where? Melbourne was a city well known for never sleeping, even early on in the week. The options were endless. Roll on five-thirty.
Once the elevator commenced its slow descent to the underground garage, I sagged against the reflective walls inside. My mood giddy and excited by the way my day had turned out. Now, I just wanted to head home, open a nice bottle of wine and wind down with a nice long hot bath before the girls came stampeding through the door.
I’d come so far, not since… No, my past was just that. There wasn’t any point giving it another thought, especially when we had a fantastic evening ahead of us.
The elevator jolted to a stop. An icy blustering wind greeted me as soon as the stainless-steel doors glided open, taking my breath away. Holy hell! Where did that breeze come from, Antarctica? The day had started bleak and rainy, and now it was just downright miserable and chilly. Walking faster, I gripped the edges of my denim jacket, hugging it tightly around me. Perhaps I ought to reconsider our night out. Reaching my car, I chuckled; there wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening.
About to dive into my handbag for the keys, the sound of an empty glass bottle rolled across the concrete subfloor. A reverberating noise that startled me enough to send my head swivelling as my anxious gaze darted around each darkened corner.
Blowing out a nervous laugh, I turned back to my car. “It’s just your imagination, Teddy. Nothing more…”
Then a familiar odour of burning tobacco wafted sending a curling chill around my spine. Panic surged as slow, taunting footsteps echoed along with the whisper of my name. In desperation, I began raking for the keys in my oversized tote, profusely cursing, when I was unable to locate them fast enough. The footsteps sped up, as had the search for my keys. Relief washing through me as I found them buried under my purse at the bottom.
I rushed up onto my seat, swiftly locking the door behind me with one shaky hand while attempting to push the key into the ignition. Starting the car, and kicking it into reverse, I looked in the rear-view mirror. Regret swiftly followed. My eyes widening as a horrified gasp escaped me at the sight of the menacing smile staring directly at me.
I hightailed it out of there.
Running inside the safety of my house and slamming the door behind me, I dumped my bag onto the kitchen island and headed directly for the bar fridge in the butler’s pantry. I had the bottle of Pinot Grigio open before I’d made it back through the opened doorway. On the sink, there was already an upturned glass from the night before; I must’ve known. Call me greedy, but I kept pouring, filling the glass until the wine licked the brim. I didn’t take long to down it either, my watery gaze peering over the rim as I glanced at the clock on the stove. There was still ample time to take that bath.
Melodic tunes of Chopin streamed from my iPhone through the speaker perched on the double vanity while wisps of steam floated from jasmine-scented water, and lit candles burned, permeating the air with gardenias and frangipani easing my woes in a heartbeat. Adding a particular dark-haired suitor to the equation may have aided in that healing also — hm..the possibilities.
A loud laugh rang through the
