Part 2 (2/2)
”There's a meeting tomorrow son”
”Yeah, they're not going to like what I say to them.”
”Let me and your uncle know what happens, we may have to lose people.” At those words I can feel the shock take over my body and it makes me think who they could possibly think of losing. I can't stand and listen any further, I have already heard too much. I walk as quickly as I can to the elevator and swipe my card. I walk quickly to the Tube and am actually able to sit down when I get on the train. I never like leaving this late, but I seem to be doing it more and more without getting any benefits at work. I don't do it for the benefits; I want the experience, so hopefully they can see me at a higher position.
As soon as I get my tired b.u.t.t through my door I throw my coat on the floor along with kicking my shoes off and collapse on to my bed. I look up at my ceiling and that's when I can hear the boom boom of the room above mine as they play their music. Without knowing it takes me back to a time where I would be hiding in my bedroom trying to drown out the noise of my mother and stepfather while they entertained their friends. A lone tear falls down my cheek as I try to forget the bad memory, but then something else consumes my thoughts. I lie there for what feels like hours just thinking of the same face until I eventually fall asleep.
When I wake up I feel like I have hardly had any sleep, but my mobile is screaming at me to wake up. The meeting is at nine and I still have things to organize. I shower, dress, have my cereal and I'm out the door within thirty minutes and even I'm impressed with myself. I rush over to my local baker's and pick up my order of pastries and get carefully across the city to work. When I get to the building at eight fifteen there are only a few other people around, but they are still inconsiderate. People b.u.mp into me without even a thought for the fact I am carrying something and no-one acknowledges me and it makes me wonder if these people even see me. Do they know who does most of their work with no acknowledgment? The fact that I can even do it is enough for me.
I get to my floor at the top of the building and make my way again to the conference room. Everything is just as I left it. I put my box down and then head to the kitchen to get plates. There's a kitchen and staff room on my floor and as I go through Daisy, one of the cooks, greets me. I take the plates that I want and head back to the conference room. I fill the large plates with the pastries and leave the other plates to the side so people can take them when they want. I take out gla.s.ses and three jugs of iced water just as the first people begin to come through the doors. I step towards the doors with my head down and wait for the room to fill with everyone that is required to attend. I can hear different voices fill the room and then I am sure I recognize the American accent I heard last night that sounded so familiar move away from me and then pause as I feel those eyes on me again. It's as if the stare penetrates my whole body, I feel tingles all over and it's as if I can feel him look over me as if I were naked. My temperature rises and I am sure I can feel my cheeks begin to flush. This is such a strange sensation, why am I getting like this? I hope I'm not getting a bug. I take in a deep cleansing breath and turn around and that's when I'm sure my world stops turning. I swear I can feel my legs begin to shake and my temperature rises to higher levels. I can feel my blood leave my head and I'm sure I can feel the sweat pooling at my brow making me feel uneasy and shaky. There at the head of the table opposite to where I am meant to sit is the man that has been consuming my thoughts since I first meet him.
Samuel.
Samuel is Mr. Harding. Mr. Harding is Samuel. Of course he is, because that's just how my life goes. All the b.l.o.o.d.y time, as soon as I think things are getting good something comes along and makes my life turn on its axis and the b.a.s.t.a.r.d is looking at me all over with a smug grin on that face of his. Oh G.o.d, why does the world hate me, out of all people my boss has to be the one man who seems to be able to get a reaction out of me. This isn't good. This so isn't good and I can feel the bile rise at the back of my throat? Why am I allowing myself to get this bothered by him, the man's a billionaire and there's no chance he will be interested in me. That's right, Grace, there is no chance Mr. Moneybags over there will be interested in little old me. I take in another deep breath and carry on doing what I was doing and the whole time I can feel his eyes undressing me. I must stop thinking about him because he's just messing with me, just trying to get a reaction out of me. I take my seat and get myself ready to make notes when I hear that American accent again. Oh G.o.d, I could listen to that accent all day.
”OK, ladies and gentlemen, are we ready to begin?” He sounds so in control that I can't help, but look over at him. He's sat there all cool and handsome with his dark grey suit and black tie and white s.h.i.+rt that just seems to reek of expense. He's so out of my league.
”What's going on with these reports?” I can see everyone in the room instantly become nervous and the tense atmosphere increases. I see him lean forward and reach over for a case and then he's completing his look by putting on a pair of black rimmed gla.s.ses and I can swear I feel my knickers get slightly damp.
”Let me tell you what these reports tell me.” He takes a breath before he continues.
”The business is doing well, very well in fact, but there are a lot of credits and there have been no investments. My father and uncle want to take the business into Europe, hotels, spas, malls, you name it and that is where the business is going over here, but I see nothing in these reports that suggest you are doing your jobs.” Through my eyelashes I can see the people in the room look at one another and as I turn to look at Samuel I can see he is looking frustrated. His eyes are intense as they look out at the table and his hands are held together in front of what I expect is a hard defined chest. Even in this state the man exudes s.e.x appeal and if I were that way inclined I would want to jump at the chance. My G.o.d, where did that come from? Stop it, Grace, you are supposed to be working. Just then I'm being drawn back to the room when I hear something interesting from the director.
”Sir, we haven't made as much as you think.”
”These reports suggest that you have and I want to know what's been happening here.”
”Sir, it is more complicated than what you might think.”
”Well someone better explain it to me then because I don't understand what's going on here.” Everyone is silent again.
CHAPTER FIVE.
SAMUEL.
Concentrate Samuel.
Just concentrate on the matter at hand. If I don't look at her I can hopefully get through this meeting easier. I knew she was going to be here, I actually requested her presence, but it doesn't help with the problem I know I have and if I stand up the whole f.u.c.king room will know the problem that I have. She looks so beautiful, though, and I can feel her draw me in with her beauty. She is wearing trousers again, why is she always wearing trousers. From what I saw on Sat.u.r.day night she has killer legs, killer legs that should be seen and wrapped around my waist while I fill her to my b.a.l.l.s.
Stop it, Samuel, you have to concentrate and get this done and you can't do that by thinking of the female that's consuming your every waking moment. What is she doing to me? I am never like this, I never allowed myself to get like this over a woman, but this one who I hardly know is doing just that and it confuses the f.u.c.k out of me.
I look up at all the worried faces, they should be worried after all their lack of fulfilling their roles within the business and I make the mistake of making eye contact with her. She blushes as she notices me watch her and I can't help but think how adorable she looks, and f.u.c.kable while the color rises in her cheeks. Today she is wearing a white blouse that points at her chest, it isn't low enough for my tastes, but you can just see the hint of what lies beneath. As I watch her it is like the rest of the room ceases to exist and it isn't until she looks at me again through those long dark lashes that I am brought back to my present problem and not that one I feel in my pants.
”I'm waiting, ladies and.” I look around the room at all the nervous faces except one and I can feel the anger begin to boil.
”Well, Mr. Harding, we felt that there wasn't enough money.”
”Why would you think that? I a.s.sume you were looking at the same reports that are here.” They are all looking at one another and it is obvious that something is happening.
”So would someone like to tell me about these discrepancies?” Again there's a lot of eye-catching and you could cut the atmosphere with a knife.
”I think you should all get out and I'll look in to it myself.” I watch them all stand from their chairs and make their way to leave the conference room. The beauty at the other end of the room watches as everyone begins to leave and looks at me watching her and I can see her gulp. She attempts to start to make herself get up from her seat and move away from me, but what I do next I can tell shocks her to the spot.
”Except you, Miss Ford, I would like to speak with you.”
GRACE.
He wants to speak to me.
Oh my G.o.d, why does he want to speak with me?
I can feel my heart begin to beat faster against my chest as my breathing comes in quicker than normal I try to answer my own question. I have only just managed to get myself to calm down from the events of the last week and now he is sending me back into my madness. I come to the conclusion that I won't allow him to affect me, like my mother always told me there isn't anything that the world will see in me so why am I letting myself fester about him. I am worthless and no good to anybody, but as I watch him I can't help, but see how good he is on the female eye.
Oh G.o.d, what does he want..?
I feel sick as the remaining members of staff leave the room, but not before they take a questioning look at me. I feel so ill, I want to be sick. When everyone has left and the door is closed Samuel looks at me and gives me a small smile. He pulls out the chair which is closer to him and looks towards me again.
”Would you like to take a seat?” I take in a deep breath and begin to step towards him. The fingers of my left hand instantly go to my right wrist and I can instantly feel the pain and release as the band snaps back against my skin. It feels so good that I don't even stop when I see that he is watching me do it. I don't want to, but I need to and it's been helping me for as long as I can remember. The more this man messes with my head the more I need to do it, more than normal even before I came to London.
Oh why am I such a b.l.o.o.d.y mess? As I take a seat next to him I can see he has a frown on his face as his eyes watch my fingers. All of a sudden I can feel the warmth of his hand as he places it over my right wrist, stopping me from doing my ritual. I can feel the rush of heat as he leaves his hand there and looks up into my eyes.
”Please don't do it.” And for some strange reason his request and touch don't unnerve me as much as if someone else had uttered the same words or held my wrist. I don't know what kind of power he holds over me, but as much as it scares me it doesn't at the same time, and that's what is unsettling me.
What is it with this man? I don't understand it. Before I can think any more of it Samuel lets go of my hand and rests it on the table.
”What do you think is going on?” he asks me.
”Me...?” I take in a deep breath as I begin to run my fingers through each other.
”You want to know what I think.”
”Yes, considering you seem to spend more time here than anyone else.”
”W...what?” How the h.e.l.l does he know that, he's only been here a week.
”I'm one of the bosses, Grace, I have my ways. Since you started fall 2010 you have stayed late or started early almost every day. That doesn't include the Sat.u.r.days you come in.” Oh G.o.d, he knows how sad my life is if I'm at work all the time.
”What are you getting at, Samuel?”
<script>