It’s two hours before I spot Alex in the heaving mass and by then the food’s been tidied away, I’ve had three cocktails and have shouted-talked at loads of people I don’t know. The party is pounding. It’s in the drunken dancing (mostly out of time with the throbbing beat), the squash of people at the bar, the yelled conversations above the music and the stuffiness of the room caused by shared body heat.
‘Ooh, there’s Alex,’ I blurt to the woman I’m talking to, a pretty girl with a beauty spot on her cheekbone, wearing a short black dress. I don’t know who she is, nor does it matter. We’ve spent the last twenty minutes admiring each other’s shoes and dresses.
‘That gorgeous creature?’ she yells in my ear. ‘Go get him.’
Grimacing, ‘It’s not really like that.’ But sweat prickles along my upper lip as I take in how tall, dark and knicker-meltingly handsome he is in his tux. What is it about men in tuxes? The James Bond effect?
She stares at me, arching a well-plucked eyebrow. ‘No. Of course it isn’t,’ she mouths into my ear in an amused tone.
I laugh. ‘Have a good night. Nice to meet you.’
‘You too.’ The woman is forgotten as I hotfoot it across the room, staring at Alex. Dodging damp, bouncing bodies, I pray no one will step on the hem of my dress.
‘Alex, there you are,’ I shout above the music, reeling when he turns and a wave of alcohol fumes hits full force, nearly taking me out. I move closer to hear him.
‘Charley. Where’ve you been? You’re late,’ he growls, the sugary sweet smell of drink wafting off him. How much has he had? I thought he’d stay sober for company social events. He’s mentioned his reputation and what people think often enough.
‘I don’t care, I’d wait for her,’ a short, round guy to Alex’s right laughs, leering at me.
‘Yeah, me too,’ another colleague, a tall sharp-faced, red-haired man agrees. ‘What’s your name, love?’
Alex glares at both of them. ‘This is Charley, my temporary PA.’
‘I was only a bit late. I went to the lobby but you’d already come down here. I’ve been socialising for the last couple of hours,’ I explain, ignoring the way the men with him are openly checking me out.
The shorter man elbows the other and turns to me. ‘We all know Alex usually has male assistants. You must be special.’ Leaning forward, he waggles his eyebrows, holding out his hand for me to shake, almost falling into the cleavage displayed by my halter neck.
‘I’m up here,’ I say sweetly, pointing to my face. ‘And that’s right, I am special.’ Grabbing his hand, I shake it firmly and apply pressure to a particularly sensitive spot Jess once showed me and am gratified to see his eyes widen. Releasing his hand, I step back. ‘I wonder if you might excuse us for a few minutes? I need to talk to Mr Demetrio about an urgent business matter.’
‘Sure, sweetheart, whatever you say.’ Backing away, flexing his hand with a slight nod to convey he got my point, he winks at Alex, ‘I like this one, she’s got balls.’
‘Enough,’ Alex barks at them and they both mumble a sorry before sloping off.
I roll my eyes and turn to find Alex staring down at me, ‘What?’ I ask self-consciously.
‘Nothing.’ Nodding, respect shines in his gaze. ‘Sorry. They’re senior employees but can be a bit silly with a drink inside them.’ Frowning, I w–would have inter– interven– stepped in if necessary y’know.’
I look up at him. How far gone is he? His blood alcohol content appears to be climbing by the minute. ‘I know that, thanks. They’re okay.’ I wave after them. ‘But I don’t need anyone fighting my battles for me.’ I pause as a cheer goes up for the cheesy seventies pop song that comes on. ‘Before anyone collars you, can we talk?’
He moves closer. ‘What do you want?’
‘Huh?’ I shiver. His warm breath on my neck is like heaven, barely-there stubble grazing my cheek.
‘What do you want t’talk about?’
‘Let’s go somewhere,’ I suggest.
‘Where?’
‘Hotel bar?’
He casts an I don’t think so look at the mass of people between us and the lift. ‘Too far. Need to be here. ’Vailable for people. And I don’t think I sh–should go anywhere with you.’ He sways. ‘Need to protect myself.’
‘What?’ I frown. ‘Why?’
He shrugs, gazing over my shoulder.
‘For God’s sake,’ I exclaim, ‘what do you think I’m going to do to you?’ Grabbing his sleeve, I jerk him over to the quietest corner of the room, away from the bar and dance floor. I’m sure if he was less under the influence of whatever alcohol he’s necked he’d resist more. Instead, he settles for a mutinous expression, marred by the fact that he can’t focus his eyes properly. I prop him up against the wall with a hand on one shoulder, worried he’ll slide to the floor if I don’t.
A slow song comes on and the calmer melody means I don’t need to shout to be heard. ‘I just need to make sure,’ I say, ‘that you really understood me earlier. About what you thought I said. About—’
‘The kiss?’
‘Yeah.’ I bite my lip. ‘It was—’
‘Incredible,’ he sighs, looking dreamy.
‘What?’
‘What?’ he repeats sharply, drawing himself up a few inches. ‘Nothing.’
I frown up at him. ‘Alex, are you okay?’
‘Uh-huh.’ He nods but it’s skew-eyed, like his head isn’t on straight.
Still, pinning him to the wall after seeing him in a tux is giving my fizzing hormones all sorts of naughty ideas. What I’d like to do to him …
We’re jostled by the crowd as they dance past us in a conga. My boobs brush up against his jacket and I hear him breathe deeply.
‘You have to leave,’ he orders, glancing around the room furtively as if afraid someone’s watching us.
I follow his eyes but see only a bunch of people having a good time. ‘I’ll go up to my room shortly.’ As soon as I’ve made sure there’s someone to look after you.
‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘I mean you have to leave Barcelona. I can’t work with you.’
No! I need this. Dismayed, I start firing out words. ‘Alex I’m sorry, I am. The bits I’m responsible for anyway. You kissed me, I kissed you, but I realised it was a bad idea and I lost my temper because of your reaction. I wasn’t thinking when I said what I did, but you misunderstood. I thought you got that. I thought – I want to stay,’ I argue. ‘Let me stay. You need me. For work, I mean.’ Alex stares over the top of my head, not replying to my comments. ‘God, can’t you even look at me? And are you drunk?’
He drops his gaze to where my chest meets his, to my clenched hands gripping his upper arms. His jaw is working, eyes hazy and unfocused.
‘Are you even listening to me?’
‘Listening seems to be a bit of a challenge at the moment,’ he mutters, ‘and yes, I am sh–slightly intoxicated.’ His eyes cross. ‘Happy?’
‘Not really. And why can’t you listen? Have you gone deaf from the noise?’
‘My ears are perfectly fine, along with other parts of me,’