With an eyebrow raised, he stands right in front of me and offers me the pen. As I reach out to take it with a shaky hand, his fingers touch mine.
Beside me, Amy gives me a funny look.
“So enough about Madison.” Tristan paces slowly across the room, putting his hands back in his pockets.
Smug, arrogant bastard, swaggering around like he owns the place. Because the motherfucker does. “I want each of you to give a brief intro, so I can get to know you a bit better.” Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse. I chew hard on my pen.
He starts at the back of the room, meaning I’ll be one of the last, giving me plenty of time to stew into a frenzy. In turn, everyone says their name, where they’re from, and what university they’ve come from. Like it’s the easiest task in the world. Soon it’s Amy’s turn. I hear her voice beside me as if I’m underwater.
I can’t do this.
I take slow deep breaths from the pit of my stomach as advised in my public speaking classes.
It’s my turn. Don’t they realise I can’t talk?
“Um.” I start in a pitch too high. “Uh, hi, I’m Elena Andric. Elly for short. I moved from Wales to London two weeks ago to join Madison. I studied Law and Criminology at Swansea.” I don’t breathe through the entire speech.
But you already know all that, Mr. Kane.
“Elly,” he repeats slowly, stopping in front of me. “Nice to have you at Madison.” I’m on fire now, the heat from my cheeks enough to sizzle sausages on.
As cool as a CEO, he moves to the next trainee.
For the next forty-five minutes, I sit stiff as the room laps up every word that comes out of that lying, cheating heart-breaking bastard boss’s luscious mouth.
Only when he leaves the room, striding off for another meeting, can I breathe properly.
Amy turns to me, both hands flying to her mouth. “Oh no, Elly! You have ink all over your mouth.” Same disastrous day, just later.
I’m a quivering wreck. After the inductions, I am shown to my desk and introduced to Sophie, the lawyer Amy and I will be shadowing. She explains everything to us at a snail’s pace without being patronising so I instantly warm to her. I log in to my email for the first time and proudly set my signature.
Elena Andric, Lawyer, Madison Legal.
An email appears in the inbox that makes me bolt upright in my chair.
Elena (or Elly?)
I hope you are settling in well. I need to discuss a matter with you.
I’ll be expecting you at my office at 5 today.
Please treat this as confidential. My PA will let you through.
Tristan Kane CEO Madison Legal
I read the email over and over again. No hint of tone. Should I pack my bags now? For so long, I fantasised about bumping into him, about our encounter being different. In some fantasies I knee him in the bollocks, in others it’s a scene akin to Jack and Rose on the bow of the Titanic, except he’s taking me from behind.
But not like this, not threatening the career that I spent thousands in student loans over.
Of all the law firms in all of London, my dirty summer fling had to own this one?
8
Tristan
“Mr. Kane, your son’s school is on line two for you,” Ed announces over the intercom. My PA is militant, detached, and sparse with chat, just how I like my PAs.
“Connect me.” For a second, I think the worst, as I always do, even though it’s more likely related to a school trip or a scrap Daniel’s got in.
“Mr. Kane?” says Daniel’s teacher.
I wince at her tone; I’m in for a scolding.
“Mrs. Maguire, so lovely to hear from you.” I use my most winning voice. “How can I help?”
“There’s been a situation in the after-school club.” She launches straight in with a Northern Irish brisk authority. Pleasantries are done. Mrs. Maguire sets the rules in our relationship. She reminds me of my Irish mother. “We can’t get hold of Daniel’s mother. Unfortunately, Daniel will be losing his privilege of attending the school trip tomorrow to London Zoo.”
Damn, Daniel, what have you done this time? “Surely that’s not necessary. What’s the issue?”
“The issue was that he called Miss Hargrove, our teaching assistant, a ‘son of a bitch.'”
I suck in sharply. I feel like I’m the one who’s been naughty. Where did my seven-year-old son even learn that? No one uses the phrase ‘son of a bitch’ in England.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Maguire.” I’m seven again and back at confession with Father Murphy. “Gemina and I will ensure Daniel is reprimanded accordingly. Please pass on my apologies to Miss
Hargrove.”
I hear her lips smack over the phone. “This behaviour is becoming more frequent, Mr. Kane. We will need to get to the bottom of this.”
“I know,” I say heavily. “I’ll speak to Daniel tonight. We’ll sort this out. I’m happy to come into the school to discuss it.”
“Please see that you do. Make alternative arrangements for Daniel tomorrow.” The phone goes dead.
The scrap with his best mate, firing the lunch across the canteen floor, making the Menzes girl cry, now this. I should have named him Damien not Daniel. These past few months he’s acting like the kid out of the fucking Omen movie. I stare out at the London skyline with its sharp edges and growing skyscrapers.
It’s no surprise. I’m a terrible father.
“Mr. Kane, Elena Andric is here to see you,” Ed interrupts my thoughts for the second time. This time it’s welcome.
“Tell her to come through,” I respond, running a hand through my hair.
She enters, her eyes awkwardly darting around the room, like making eye contact with me is excruciatingly painful.
She’s even more stunning than I remembered. She’s wearing a tight dress that accentuates her curves without revealing too much skin. Dark glasses frame her blue-green eyes, and her dark hair is pulled into a tight ponytail. She can try to hide her sexiness, but it’s not working.
I’m not a man that gets flustered easily but that look she gives me with her big eyes and parted pout makes me weak in the knees.
I’m done for.
My lips curve into a smile. “Hello, Elena.” I lean forward in my chair and gesture to the seat in front of the desk. “Close the door and take a seat.”
She bites down on her bottom lip but nods and closes the door. “Hi,” she replies, taking a seat and adjusting her view downward. Her skirt rides up revealing a hint of toned thighs.
“This is a pleasant surprise,” I say softly, examining her face.
“Yes, it’s a surprise alright.” Her voice is strangled.
My eyes flit down to where her knuckles grip the side of the seat. Today, she’s not the confident, sassy woman I met in Greece. “So, you really didn’t know who I was?”
She finally looks up from the floor to meet my gaze. “Of course not.” She purses her lips. “You don’t have a photo on the company website.”