should feel like a king.
Most days he did. Head of his own software company before the age of thirty-five. A company he’d started with nothing but a loan he couldn’t afford and an idea that had woken him up in the middle of the night.
And now look at him. This building in the heart of Canary Wharf—and his office within it—could be seen all over London. Further, even. Now every day in the south London suburb where he’d grown up the boys who’d bullied him, the ones who’d taunted him mercilessly, could see the proof of how spectacularly they’d been wrong about him when they walked down the street.
Even better, when they got to work and switched on their computers, it was probably his innovative software they were running. Not that he’d leased these offices because of that—it had just been a pleasing perk. When Orion Solutions had first moved in here he’d smiled every time he’d glanced out of the window.
But now…Sometimes he felt…
He shook his head. This was nonsense.
The intercom on his desk crackled.
‘Mr Hunter?’
He didn’t move, not even to twist in the direction of the speaker. His eyes were fixed on a blue patch of sky on the horizon.
‘Yes?’ He didn’t speak loudly. He never spoke loudly. Somehow there was something in the timbre of his voice that just carried. He had no doubt that Stephanie heard every syllable.
‘I know you asked not to be disturbed, Mr Hunter, but something urgent has come up.’
Now he turned and stared at the speaker. ‘Come and fill me in.’
He stayed where he was and transferred his gaze to the door. He was not a man accustomed to being kept waiting. Not that he was impatient—far from it—but when you were Cameron Hunter people tended to ask how high it would be convenient for them to jump before he’d even thought of demanding anything of the sort.
There was a timid knock at the door and Stephanie peered round it. He motioned for her to come inside, and she stopped as close to the threshold as she could without actually being outside the room. He’d been having trouble finding a new PA since Aimee had left to have babies and devote herself to full-time mothering. He’d offered to double Aimee’s salary if she’d stay. He needed her organisational skills here at Orion. But she’d turned him down, damn her.
Aimee wouldn’t have crept into the office as if she was scared of him. But Stephanie, just like her three predecessors, jumped every time he spoke. He didn’t mind the fact that his staff respected him—were in awe of him, even. In fact it had been something he’d cultivated when his business had grown beyond a handful of employees. It didn’t bother him that people thought him remote. He wasn’t the kind of boss who chatted about pets and children, and people didn’t expect that of him. They expected him to be in charge, to keep their wages and bonuses coming. His staff knew he was dedicated to them and the company, that he was hard-working and that he rewarded loyalty richly. That should be enough. His personal life was out of bounds. He respected his staff enough not to pry into their business, and they in turn afforded him the same courtesy.
Stephanie clasped her hands together in front of her, looking as if she’d really like to bolt but was attempting to anchor herself. Cameron sighed inwardly.
‘The Japanese party have rung ahead to say they’ve been delayed at the airport. They’ve asked if we could push the meeting back to three o’clock.’
He nodded. ‘Fine. Make the arrangements, would you?’
She gave a hasty nod and sidled round the half-open door.
He walked back to his desk. Before he sat down, he ran his fingertips over the flat, square and now empty jewellery box sitting next to the phone. Until very recently there’d been at least one woman in his life who hadn’t quivered with fear when he’d walked into the room. Far from it.
Jessica Fernly-Jones. High society darling and professional butterfly.
She was the woman every red-blooded male in London was dying to have on his arm. And for a while she’d been his. His triumph, his coup.
She’d made him dance through hoops before she’d consented to date him regularly. Not that he’d cared. It had all been part of the game—part of the sacrifice to win the prize. And there was always a sacrifice if something was worth having. When she’d finally relented and agreed to go out to dinner with him, he’d relished the looks of envy and awe on other men’s faces as he’d walked through the restaurant with her. It had been even better than when he’d dated a supermodel.
But after two months the hoop-jumping and game-playing hadn’t relented, as he’d expected. And he’d started to wonder whether one woman really was worth all the aggravation.
His answer had come the night he’d given her the jewellery box. Lesser women would have squealed and gone all dewy-eyed when they saw the logo of a rather exclusive jewellers on the box. But, give Jessica credit, she’d merely raised an eyebrow and given him a sexy smile. A smile that said she’d knew she’d deserved it, that she was worth every carat the box contained—probably more.
She’d prised open the lid and her eyes had roved the contents of the box.
It had been a diamond pendant. Simple. Elegant. Outrageously expensive.
A small pout had squeezed Jessica’s lips together. ‘It’s lovely, Cameron,’ she’d said. ‘But don’t you remember? It was the pink diamond I wanted—not a boring old white one. You will be a darling about this, won’t you?’
At that moment Cameron had known suddenly and unequivocally that he wouldn’t be a darling about anything for Jessica any more. Still, there had been no need to make a scene. They’d gone out to dinner, and he’d explained it all quite carefully before Jessica had flounced off.
Now he had his own little empire he supposed he would need a woman to stand by his side, someone to share all this bounty with. On the climb up he’d always imagined she’d be someone exactly like Jessica. Now, though…
Instead of sitting down he turned round and walked back to the window.
The view was starting to bore him. Just as well he’d be changing it soon.
‘Alice? Alice Morton?’
Alice’s hand closed around a pound coin in her money belt. She hadn’t heard that voice in years. She looked up to find a stylishly dressed woman with a wavy blonde bob smiling at her.
‘Jennie? I can’t believe it!’
It looked as if Jennie’s trademark stripy legwarmers of a decade ago had finally been declared a fashion no-no, because the woman in front of her oozed sophistication. However, there was no mistaking Jennie’s bright smile and the aura of excitement she carried with her wherever she went. In a flash Alice had scooted round the velvetdraped stall and the two women launched themselves into a rib-crushing hug.
A polite cough from Alice’s left reminded her of what she’d been doing just seconds before Jennie had arrived. She handed the customer she’d been serving her change.
‘I’m so sorry! Here you go.’
