disappeared out of the office door.
Alice didn’t feel guilty about that in the slightest. She’d get much more work done if someone wasn’t hovering over her all the time. And she didn’t feel guilty about stopping for five minutes to take Cameron’s call. If she hadn’t been sitting here under the desk, staring at the wires, it would have taken her hours longer to find the source of the problem. She backed out from under the desk, stood up and brushed herself down, pleased to be off her knees and standing tall.
Cameron arrived at the construction site early, keen to meet with the foreman and get an update before he showed Alice around. Although he was required to wear a hard hat, it was hardly necessary as all the major work had been done. Only the finishing touches were being seen to—doors were being hung, sockets were being fixed to the walls and flooring was being laid.
He checked his watch. She’d be here in an hour. He brightened unexpectedly at the thought. Alice had been a nice kid. A little unsure of herself, as teenage girls often were, but kind and intelligent. He was glad to know she’d lost none of that warmth in the intervening years. And she’d certainly seemed full of fire when he’d talked with her on the phone. It was nice to actually converse with someone for a change rather than just give orders.
What was she to him, then? A friend?
He didn’t really have many friends. Hadn’t really had time for them while he’d worked himself stupid getting where he was today. Most of the men he socialised with fell into one of two categories. They were either colleagues or competitors, and both were apt to put on a false front because they either wanted to impress the boss or they were hoping to get close to him and learn something to their advantage.
And women…Well, women never wanted to be just friends with him. They also fell into two camps: tigers and jellyfish. The tigers, like Jessica, were blatant about their attraction to him—and his money. And he obliged them by taking them out to the best spots in London, treating them like royalty…As long as they understood he wasn’t looking for anything permanent, wasn’t looking for someone to share his throne at present. They were all just temporary princesses.
The jellyfish—the second type of woman, like his current PA—trembled and stuttered in his presence. But he saw the glint of attraction in their eyes too—they were just too scared to act on it. Both responses were starting to get on his nerves.
He couldn’t pigeonhole Alice into either of these groups, and that made her an unknown species. Intriguing.
She’d been pretty too, in her own way. Beautiful eyes—a fascinating hazel that were one moment green and the next nutty brown. She’d been like an ugly duckling, just on the cusp of becoming a swan. Sometimes, when she’d moved a certain way or changed her expression, he’d had the strangest sense that a glorious, transformed Alice was about to burst through the meek outer shell.
He shook his head.
This was his problem with women. He let his imagination run away with him and started thinking all sorts of ridiculous things. He became dazzled by the idea of the woman, and always ended up being disappointed when they didn’t live up to the dream. But he’d dated enough golddiggers now that he could spot them at thirty paces. It didn’t stop him taking them out, though. In fact, it suited his whole ‘temporary princess’ idea. He didn’t expect much from the Jessicatypes, and therefore he was rarely disappointed. And there was no danger of them leaving a scar when the relationship ended.
When people got too close, they judged. They found all the bits of your psyche you didn’t want to acknowledge and held them up in front of your face to see, along with a few more faults you didn’t realise you’d had. No, he’d had enough of being judged.
But that really was a moot point these days. He was top dog. He did the judging. And if anyone was foolish enough to put him under the microscope they’d only come away with the verdict that he was the best and that he had the best of everything. And that was just what he’d been aiming for all these years.
A tall fence of chipboard panels painted roughly in forest green surrounded the new headquarters to Orion Solutions. The gate was covered with brightly coloured signs warning of all sorts of dire consequences to those who dared step inside. The boundary fence was at least twelve feet high, and this close to it, Alice could see nothing of the building beyond.
Being fairly local, she now realised she remembered the factory in its previous incarnation as a bakery. It had been left almost derelict for more than a decade, and the only details she could recall were broken panes in the wide horizontal windows and a dirty concrete façade.
Now she was actually here, ready to see the site and show her ideas to Cameron, her stomach was churning. Coreen really should have come. She was good at the talking and schmoozing. Alice was good at the practicalities—the behind-the-scenes stuff.
But you didn’t need to schmooze Cameron on the phone, a little voice inside her head whispered. You talked, he listened. It’ll be the same now.
But her stomach didn’t seem to believe her head. It was still rolling around as if it was being battered by one of the old kneading machines that had lived in the old bakery.
And Coreen hadn’t helped this morning. She’d insisted Alice go round, so she could make sure she was dressed ‘fittingly’ for a representative of Coreen’s Closet. Coreen had taken a single look at Alice’s one good trouser suit, tutted, and then dragged Alice into her bedroom. In no time she’d bullied Alice into stripping down to her under-wear. Alice had stood there like a shop dummy, being prodded and poked and pinched, and when Coreen had pronounced her ready she’d taken one look in the mirror and flipped out.
She’d looked like Coreen’s freaky twin sister, with her hair quiffed and pinned. The floral fifties dress was undoubtedly gorgeous, but Alice’s chest didn’t fill the darted bodice and the large circular skirt just swamped her. The icing on the cake had been the bright red lipstick.
She’d looked ridiculous. She wasn’t that girl—that frilly, sexy, pouting girl. She was Alice. And Alice looked like a big fat fake in that get-up. This time Coreen hadn’t been going to get her way. Alice had told her friend so in no uncertain terms, and then she’d reached for a tissue and wiped the lipstick off, leaving a wide red smudge on her cheek.
Once Coreen had got over the shock of being contradicted, she’d set to work again, agreeing that the full-on retro look maybe wasn’t for Alice, but a touch of vintage might add a little pizzazz to an otherwise dull department store outfit.
So here Alice stood, the result of makeover number two. Coreen had let her keep the looselegged chocolate trousers, as she’d said they flattered Alice’s shape and made her look like Katherine Hepburn, but she’d replaced the suit jacket with a collarless forties one in deep crimson tweed. Even Alice liked the fake fabric bunch of grapes in autumn colours that adorned the breast. She’s brushed out the ridiculous hairstyle and opted for a low, sleek ponytail, and had let Coreen add some lipstick in a berry shade that complemented both the jacket and her colouring.
It would have been madness to tell Coreen—it would only have made her even more incorrigible—but Alice did feel smart and stylish, in a way that was uniquely her. At least she did until she reached the tall chipboard gates that barred her entrance to Cameron’s building. Now she was tempted to turn and run away on her chunkyheeled boots. She looked back down the road to where she’d parked her car.
‘Alice Morton?’
She spun round to find a gruff-looking builder eyeing her up and down through
