Читать книгу Tied Up With Love: A feel-good, romantic comedy to make you smile - Holly Martin - Страница 12

Chapter Three

Ethan pulled up outside his office the next day at nine-thirty. He hoped that Isabelle had changed her mind or got bored of waiting. It was freezing outside, so she wouldn’t have waited for long. The car park was deserted and he smiled to himself that he had won that easily. He didn’t want her there. He hadn’t been thinking straight yesterday, when he’d given her a job. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. With her hair all messed up from being inside the bag, it looked like she had just got out of bed and he had wanted to take her straight back to it. He had clearly let that part of his body decide for him. He had thought about offering to take her out for dinner and hopefully dessert to apologise for the misunderstanding but then she punched him in the face and he quickly changed his mind after that. He wanted to get rid of her. He didn’t want to come to work every day and feel this insane attraction for someone he didn’t like. Especially after what he had uncovered about her. But he had a plan.

He fumbled with his keys to let himself in but as he pushed the key in the lock the door swung open. He walked in, suddenly afraid that they’d been burgled.

The place was unrecognisable from when he had last seen it the night before. Surfaces were paper free and gleaming, all the coffee cups were gone, the floor was no longer hidden under rubbish but a soft blue carpet he had long forgotten about stood proud against the cream walls. An unsightly stain was now hidden underneath a cream rug and several plants adorned the windowsills. It actually looked like an office as opposed to a room.

The culprit was dancing and singing in the corner of the room as she filed stuff away in the filing cabinet he had bought but never used. Her long black hair that had fluttered around her face like the sleek feathers of a raven the day before was now tied back in several plaits and clips. She was dressed smartly in black trousers and matching jacket but the most intriguing thing was her standing in his office in bare feet.

He watched her feet moving as she danced slightly, tiny little feet with gold nail varnish on the toes. He had a sudden overwhelming desire to kiss those feet.

He pushed that away, angrily.

‘Isabelle.’

She carried on dancing, humming along to some unknown tune in her head, completely ignoring him.

She squatted down to put something in the bottom drawer and as she did she gave a little provocative wiggle. How inappropriate was that? She barely knew him. Though the thoughts that were suddenly running through his head were hardly appropriate either.

‘Isabelle.’

Still no response and it was then that Ethan realised she was listening to her iPod, the headphones plugged into each ear.

He tapped her on the shoulder and she nearly hit the roof with shock. She whirled around, her eyes wide with fear for just a second before she let out a little laugh of relief.

She pulled the headphones out. ‘God you scared me, I was miles away then.’

‘What are you doing here?’

She frowned, her grey eyes darkening slightly. ‘I work here, remember.’

‘I meant in here, how did you get in?’

‘The key under the mat. I wanted to get an early start. The place was quite a mess.’

He looked around him, trying to find fault with what she’d done. ‘I hope you haven’t thrown away anything important.’

‘Like the coffee cups or the letter from the phone company telling you your internet will be switched on five years ago? No, definitely not thrown away anything important.’

‘Sit down, we need to talk.’

‘Ok.’

To his utmost annoyance she sat in his chair, watching him carefully across his desk.

‘That’s my chair.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it had your name on it.’

She got up and sat where she had sat the day before and Ethan imagined tying her up and gagging her again just so he could say his piece without any smart remarks. He sat down and nearly screamed with frustration when he realised she had adjusted the seat so his knees were nearly up to his chin. He ignored the smug smile of satisfaction from her and pumped up his chair so it was back to the normal height.

‘I’ve been doing some research on you Miss Franklin…’

‘Izzy.’

He paused, assessing her, and then pulled out a wad of papers with her life history printed on. He had contacts, very good contacts who had obtained a wealth of information on the intriguing Isabelle Franklin. He didn’t like what he saw. Mostly because it was all good. Still he was going to wait to serve the bad apple amongst the glowing ones until the end of his speech.

‘You went to Kingston University in London?’

‘Yes, if you have it written down on that sheet of paper I doubt you need to ask me.’

He ignored her. ‘Studied a degree in Business Studies with Media and Events Management?’

She nodded again.

‘Got a first. Started your own business in your final year of the course. Went bankrupt within three years, so you’re obviously not good with money. Then a catalogue of –’

‘How dare you say that. You know nothing about me. You get a few facts and figures written down on that sheet and you think you have me all figured out. My business was a huge success I’ll have you know.’

He looked at her over the paper, two pink spots of indignation coloured her pale cheeks.

‘Then tell me, what went wrong?’ He checked his sheet again. ‘Dream Proposals. It’s not a very original name.’

‘And Kidnap My Wife is?’

‘Touché. But I don’t imagine there was much call for a proposal service. Most men will just take their girlfriends to a fancy restaurant and pop the question over the oysters. Why make a big song and dance over it, if she loves you and wants to marry you she’d say yes if you asked her over a greasy burger.’

‘I take it you’re not married Ethan.’

He shook his head, readying himself for the slur on his character. He was surprised when it didn’t come.

‘If you had found the woman that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, the one that you loved more than life itself, you would do anything to make her happy and the perfect proposal signifies how much effort you will go to in other areas of your life too. There was huge demand for my business. I would arrange harpists, hot air balloon rides, champagne picnics on private beaches, sky writers to adorn the skies with the question at the exact time, proposals written in flowers, diamond rings delivered in ice sculptures, fireworks displays, helicopter rides… whatever they wanted, they got. I could barely keep up with the demand.’

He watched as her eyes filled with a fiery zeal as she talked about her job. She was obviously very proud of what she had achieved.

‘What happened?’

And just like that the fire vanished and she looked down at her knees.

‘I had a website designer, I didn’t know a lot about that side of things at the time, so I let him have free rein. I should have been more vigilant about the wording. Emblazoned across almost every page were the fateful words, “One hundred percent satisfaction, guaranteed”.’

Ethan winced, guessing where this was going next.

‘One man spent over five thousand pounds on his proposal – a beachside retreat in Mexico, champagne breakfast on the beach, swimming with dolphins, and a sunset hot air balloon ride. We had created the perfect day. He asked her to marry him and she said no. He sued me for every penny I had. I was just really starting out, and I didn’t charge very much. My fee was fifty pounds for UK proposals, a hundred for proposals abroad. Then they would pay for the extras, flowers, dinner, flights etc. I would just arrange it all but because of my contacts I could get things a bit cheaper than if they were trying to do it themselves. I made enough money each month to pay all my bills, mortgage, food and have a bit left over in savings. Of course he wanted his five thousand pounds back but that money had never been mine, that had all gone to pay for his holiday and there was no way I could claim that back. I didn’t have enough money in reserve to pay him and he took me to court. He sued me for costs and humiliation. The judge, bizarrely, sided with him. I lost my home, my car, everything.’

He watched her pick at a stray thread on her trousers. She was ashamed of this and he felt guilty that he’d pushed her into telling him all this.

‘So once you’d gone bankrupt, why didn’t you restart under a new name?’

‘Another proposing company bought the rights to my company, offered me a small fee for the website and all names of my contacts. I suppose I was still licking my wounds at the time. I kind of wish I hadn’t sold it now.’

Ethan straightened his thoughts. He wanted her out, he didn’t want to feel sorry for her.

‘And after that you’ve drifted from job to job, clearly not reliable.’

‘Temping. You go where you’re sent, some jobs it was just a few weeks’ holiday cover, some jobs it was covering an operation or maternity leave. I didn’t get sacked from any of the temping jobs, the contracts just came to an end.’

He ignored this and pressed on. ‘You’ve done thirty-six different courses over the last three years – carpentry, car mechanics, painting, plumbing, art, French, guitar, sports coaching, various different computer courses including one on web design.’

‘Yes.’ She looked at him in confusion, possibly wondering how he was going to turn this into a bad thing. He was beginning to wonder that himself.

He might as well go in for the kill now.

‘I’m sorry but this isn’t going to work. I’ve established a respectable business here and I can’t have some thug working for me who’s going to ruin all of that. Two of my staff have injuries sustained from their run-in with you and I have a black eye which certainly doesn’t look professional when dealing with potential clients. Really, I should have you arrested for assault. As it is I would like to forget we ever met as quickly as possible, so I’m offering you three thousand pounds to leave now and never come back.’

He quickly whipped out the cheque he had already written and laid it on the desk in front of her.

‘Now hang on, we had a deal. I’m not in the habit of punching people, but I grew up with three brothers and I can look after myself if need be. I attacked you and your staff yesterday because I had been kidnapped and I thought my life was in danger, as you are well aware, but I can assure you this sort of thing doesn’t normally happen.’

He couldn’t help the smug smile from spreading on his lips, she had walked straight into his trap.

‘Oh but Miss Franklin it does. You were fired from your last job for punching your boss in the face and breaking his nose. He said it was because he told you off for poor work, constantly being late and chatting on the phone to friends. Now that is definitely not the sort of person I’m prepared to have working for me here. So I suggest you take that cheque and get out.’

‘I punched my boss in the nose because he was a dirty little pervert who shoved his finger up my arse when I was changing the paper in the photocopier.’

The pencil he was holding snapped in his hand.

‘You don’t want me here and I get that. What I did yesterday, blackmailing you into giving me a job was underhand and I’m sorry. I would never have gone to the papers or the police with my story. I could never damage your business as I know how much it hurts to build up something you love and have it snatched away from you. But if you really don’t want me here then I’ll go.’

He watched as she moved to the window and slipped her feet into a pair of smart black heels. She pulled her coat on and left, the cheque remained untouched on his desk.

He felt like scum.

He swore loudly as he screwed up the cheque and hurled it into the bin. He got to his feet and hurried to the door. She was already on her bike, an old rusty machine complete with a faded white wicker basket and was just cycling past. He called to her but she ignored him. He stepped out in front of her bike and she slammed on the brakes and would have toppled off if he hadn’t grabbed her. At the feel of her hot skin against his own, he felt his gut clench. He quickly released her.

‘We had a deal Miss Franklin, and I don’t go back on deals. I thought it would be easier for both of us if I gave you three thousand pounds now, but if you won’t accept a payoff then the job still stands.’

She looked at him as if she really didn’t want the job now.

‘Look, when I saw why you had been fired from your previous job I made a rash decision about the sort of person you were. I didn’t realise you were sexually assaulted. I presume you told the police.’

‘No, why would I? My word against his, and he’s a respectable local business man. People look at me, look at my job history, look at the tattoos I have and they make their own minds up about me. You certainly did.’

‘I’m sorry.’

It was a genuine, heartfelt apology but he certainly wasn’t going to get down on bended knee and beg her to stay. And why was his mind filled with images of tattoos and where they might be?

She stared at him for a moment then got off her bike. ‘Apology accepted.’

‘Good, now let me talk you through some of the things you need to know. There’s a diary on the computer…’

‘Yeah I found that, it’s rubbish, very antiquated. I’ve implemented a new program. My diary allows people to book their slots online, it won’t allow any double bookings and they can also book provisionally if they are not sure on dates or whether this service is for them. The diary then automatically emails the office and we can then follow it up with an interview to discuss their needs. I’ve also posted a queries section onto the website so they can email us regarding any questions. Many people work nine to five and are unable to phone during the day, being able to email at eleven o’clock at night is imperative. Of course they won’t get an answer straight away but at least you’re not losing customers because they haven’t got time to ring.’

She walked back inside ahead of him as if she owned the place and he couldn’t help his eyes wandering down to her arse. He snatched his eyes away as she turned round to look at him. If she punched him in the face now he knew he totally deserved it.

‘You changed the diary without permission.’

He wasn’t sure why he was fighting that, he’d been meaning to update it for ages.

‘As Office Manager I need to be able –’

‘Since when are you Office Manager? You’re a receptionist. I wouldn’t glorify what you do here, you answer the phone, simple as that.’

‘You can call it whatever you like.’ To his annoyance she settled herself in his chair again and with a few clicks on the computer she brought up the new diary. ‘But if I’m going to work here I’m going to make a few changes about the way things are done. You cannot continue to work in squalor, that is not professional, especially when clients come round to talk about what they want. If they are trusting you with kidnapping their wife, their most prized possession, they need to see you as a professional outfit. How many men have come here to talk about kidnapping their wives and changed their minds?’

‘Our service is not for everyone.’ He sat down opposite her, feeling annoyed that he felt like the naughty boy called in front of the headmistress. Why should he have to justify his own business?

‘How many in the last year, ten, twenty?’

He gritted his teeth. ‘Probably about twenty.’

‘That’s twenty men that have come here, looked at the mouldy coffee cups and the piles of paper and thought, “There’s not a chance I’m letting these guys get their hands on my wife.”’

He’d never thought of it like that.

‘Our business does very well. Many businesses go under after the first year or so. We’ve been running for five years.’ That was mean but he wanted to regain the upper hand here.

‘You can throw that back in my face as many times as you want, but the fact is I can make a difference here. Judging by your diary you’re getting two or three bookings a week, I guarantee I can improve on that. But you need to give me free rein, I can’t keep checking up with you every five minutes when I see areas where your service can be improved.’

Her lips were a dark pink, unadorned with makeup. He wanted to kiss her, hard. He suddenly had an image of making love to her on the desk. He rubbed his hand over his eyes to try to shake that picture from his head. Where the hell had that come from? But he could still see her eyes in his head. Silvery grey eyes that were honest and determined – but hidden behind all this bravado was vulnerability.

He looked up at her and she was still staring at him.

‘I want to be kept informed of any changes you make. If I don’t like them you put them back to how things were. I won’t have this company compromised.’

‘I won’t do anything to damage this company, and I would ask that you trial any changes I make first before you decide you don’t like them, but ultimately you are the boss and if you don’t like them, of course I’ll change them. Now are we keeping the new diary for now or would you like to go back to the old version?’

She leaned back in her chair, templing her fingers, she smiled serenely at him. What he would like to do to her now was definitely not what she would call professional.

He stood up and for a split second he thought he saw her eyes dilate with desire before she turned away and started flicking through the diary.

‘The new diary is fine. I’ll put the kettle on and then we can talk through any more changes you wish to make.’

He hoped his tone was suitably scathing and sarcastic enough to let her know that she was a long way off winning this particular argument just yet. He ducked into the coolness of the kitchen, determined that when he came back into the office he would be calm enough to discuss things with her without the stirrings in his groin clouding his brain.