I wonder what my ex-colleagues are up to. Do they still have the same nights out, the after-hours parties? Despite being manager I was still part of the group, and Kitty (best croupier in the casino, according to her) and I were friends. I worked really hard, sometimes stupidly long hours, but I played hard too. Kitty and I had lots of adventures together, occasionally joined by Jess, and got ourselves into some pretty memorable situations. Walking through the city barefoot in the rain at three in the morning because our high heels were killing us; wearing giant cardboard boxes painted and taped up to look like Rubik’s cubes for a fancy-dress party; playing poker on a random rich guy’s yacht moored up at Canary Wharf. If I have to move back to my parents’, I’ll miss the bright lights of the city, the music and gigs, bustle of people and our laughter, usually fuelled by a mixture of white wine and Cosmos.
There haven’t been any fun nights out in months. I miss them. I glance over at Alex. Fun isn’t a word I’d use to describe him. Okay, so he’s laughed and cracked a couple of smiles and this is a business situation not a social one but still, he’s wound so tight, is so snappy and defensive. Perhaps not surprising given the responsibility he’s had since he was twenty-four – just three years younger than I am now. Maybe he doesn’t get a lot of down time.
I don’t think I’d be ready to take on a role with such massive accountability. Alex is responsible for keeping thousands of people in jobs; it’s a hell of a pressure for one person. No doubt he’s got a great team, but at the end of the day it all comes down to him. Could I do it? Would I want it? Building on a Business Studies NVQ from college, I got a distinction in a distance-learning professional qualification in people management and business administration a few years ago whilst working full-time and it damned near killed me. I loved learning and it helped when applying for the management job, but my social life went into sharp decline as a result. I was constantly turning down dates and cancelling plans in favour of staying in to do research or write assignments.
It made me wonder whether you can hold down a high-level job and still have time for other things, like love and family. None of the guys I dated during that time understood what I was trying to achieve. One of them labelled me a geek, nose stuck in a book when I could be out enjoying myself. He was right, I am a geek, and proud of it, so the stereotype didn’t bother me. The issue was that he didn’t respect my ambition and desire to better myself. Which makes my current situation even more agonising. I loved working hard and contributing to the bottom line of a company, leading and being part of a team. I have to get that back if I can.
Sitting up, I anchor myself in the now. Even if I wouldn’t want to be CEO, there’s clearly an upside – the job must really pay – because our car’s stopping on the edge of a private airstrip. The smooth concrete runway is frosted with ice and surrounded by snow-covered shrubs, grass and miles of empty space. The mega-wealthy really do live in a different world. I expected a charter flight from a regional airport, not a private jet like on Criminal Minds. This is well out of my league, but oh, what a lovely league. Undoing my seatbelt as the car stops, I try to hide my eagerness to get on the plane and look around. There’s still an excited little girl inside the corporate woman.
‘Ready?’ Alex asks, unbuckling his belt.
‘Definitely.’
He smiles and it ignites a tripwire straight to my knickers. Thankfully the driver opens the door so I scramble out the car, handbag clutched to my side.
‘Thank you.’ I nod at the driver, holding my hair back from my face in the battering wind.
‘No problem, Miss Caswell.’
Trailing after him, I shiver as he walks to the rear of the car.
As he pops open the boot lid I reach across him to grab my case but he’s too quick for me, hauling it out onto the concrete. ‘Allow me.’
Acknowledging his win with a wry smile, I watch him lift out a weekend bag, suit carrier and briefcase, before carrying everything over to the awaiting cabin crew.
Climbing from the car, Alex tucks all gadgets away in his pockets and strides over to his driver, clasping the man’s shoulder. ‘Thanks Evan, have a safe journey home and enjoy your long weekend off. Say hello to your wife for me.’
‘I certainly will, sir, on all counts. Thank you.’
‘Good. I’ll see you here on Monday evening?’
‘Yes, I’ll be here. You have a safe journey as well.’ Tipping his cap, he marches back to the car.
Interesting there’s a respectful relationship between the two men. But then, it’s only female employees my temporary boss has a problem with, isn’t it?
Alex walks over to join me as the long black vehicle pulls away smoothly. ‘Ready to go?’
Not at all. My feet are stuck to the floor. If I get on the sleek-looking plane, that’s it, no going back. Plan B. Temporary PA. In Barcelona. Undercover ex-employee. Working with the hot CEO. But what would I say if I don’t go? To Alex? More, to myself, for not at least trying? So I take a deep breath and reply, ‘Sure.’
He points at the metal steps set against the side of the luxury plane. ‘You first.’
‘Thank you.’ Careful to watch my footing as I clank upwards, I pray I won’t slip and tumble backwards on to Alex. There’s an inherent clumsiness running through me like a current and I’ve no wish for it to be on show this weekend. It’s something I can normally keep under wraps, but my reactions this afternoon have been anything but normal so far.
I duck under the door frame as I step aboard. At five foot nine I usually feel like a towering behemoth, especially since I hit that height at thirteen and curves erupted all over the place. It doesn’t help that adorably petite women seem to occupy the world. Wearing high heels makes me even taller but they give me confidence. I ignore the little voice inside my head whispering Alex is a good few inches over six foot and I don’t feel like a behemoth standing beside him.
Entering the main cabin, I hold back the uncool gasp longing to break free, but my eyes feel a metre wide and my mouth drops open. When people talk about the height of luxury, they’re not kidding. Plush velvety black carpet gives the cabin a cosy feel and a dozen matching executive chairs and small, expensive-looking tables are bolted to the floor in three groups, instead of the narrow, torturous seats on the planes I usually fly on. The plastic walls are white with the bottom half navy, almost the same shade as Alex’s eyes. Everywhere I look there are lights and sockets.
Alex squeezes past me, oblivious to the tiny space between us. Shame I can’t say the same. My nipples stand to attention at the waves of heat emanating from his body and my cheeks flush. It’s become a humiliating habit in the last hour.
‘Bathroom through there,’ Alex nods to a narrow door across the cabin, ‘why don’t you sit, get comfortable?’ His tone is offhand. ‘Just like all the rest.’ He mumbles beneath his breath, looking furious.
‘Pardon?’
‘Nothing.’ He shakes his head. ‘Just … sit down and strap up. We’re taking off soon.’
‘Please don’t tell me to shut up!’ But I drop into one of the padded chairs anyway and glare at him.
Something in his gaze flickers and he strides over to crouch down in front of me, putting his hands to my waist. What the hell is he doing?
‘I said strap up, not shut up.’ Staring into my eyes, he grabs both ends of the seatbelt, pushing the tongue decisively into the buckle. I clutch the armrests. ‘I’d never speak to a staff member that way.’
If he