‘I thought I could marry Gabriel!’ Lucy had half-wept. ‘It’s not that I don’t care about him, but...he’s just not my type. Mummy and Daddy were so happy when he proposed but I just can’t... He’s so...so...serious, always working and stuff...’
Abby had bit down the very natural retort that sprawling technology empires that raked in billions every year didn’t get that way under the guiding hand of someone who holidayed and partied all year long.
‘I wish you hadn’t seen...you know...’ Lucy had chewed her lip anxiously but then had brightened. ‘But Rupe really gets me. He’s a model like me and he doesn’t get all funny about having a good time. I know he’s not eligible like Gabriel, and honestly, Abby, Daddy’s going to kill me, but I just can’t go through with it. Now you know, please, please, please could you tell Gabriel? He’s going to go mad and I know I’ll just cave in because I hate making a fuss...’
Abby had been appalled.
‘Tell him?’ she had bellowed above the bass beat of the music. ‘Lucy, are you mad?’ But sweet-natured Lucy had proved that everyone had a mulish side. She had dug her heels in, pleaded and begged, shed some tears and Abby had cracked.
Which didn’t make it any easier now, standing here having dragged her boss back from his wild speculations.
She took a deep breath and said casually, ‘You’ll never guess who I bumped into at the club.’
Gabriel looked at her narrowly. ‘I’m sensing we’re getting to the heart of the matter now,’ he said drily. ‘So, instead of going round the houses, why not just spit it out?’ He spread his arms wide in a gesture of benevolent magnanimity. ‘I think you’ll find that I’m pretty unshockable when it comes to finding out what happens in clubs. There’s a very good reason I stopped frequenting all but my private one.’
Abby was aware that time was passing. Gabriel, workaholic that he was, didn’t seem unduly bothered but there were never sufficient hours in the day for her and she wasn’t enthusiastic about hanging around until late in the evening, having been the messenger of bad tidings. She had no idea how Gabriel was going to take what she had to tell him but she foresaw an uncomfortable day ahead for herself.
‘I saw Lucy there.’
‘Fiancée Lucy?’
‘The same.’ She looked at him, head cocked to one side.
‘If you’re expecting me to have a jealous meltdown,’ Gabriel inserted wryly, ‘Then you’ll be waiting a long time. Lucy is her own person and, if she wants to go to a nightclub, then she’s more than welcome to do that.’ He was momentarily distracted as he wondered who Abby had gone to the nightclub with. A band of women, all drinking cocktails and dancing around handbags? Had she gone there to pick a man up? Surely not? But why not? She was in her mid-twenties and, whilst she might dress like someone twice her age, there was something captivating about her face.
Gabriel took a couple of minutes to dwell on what it was that seemed to hold one’s attention for a little longer than was strictly necessary. It wasn’t as though she was beautiful. Lucy was beautiful, he thought absently, with her tall, rangy body and her long blonde hair. Abby’s looks ran to unusual, intelligent, characteristics that shouldn’t set the imagination alive with curiosity but somehow did.
She had shoulder-length dark hair which was usually tied back and grey eyes fringed with surprisingly lush lashes and well-defined brows. And her mouth was sexy. It wasn’t the first time Gabriel had clocked that about his very efficient, very controlled and deliberately in-the-background secretary, but it was the first time he wasn’t controlling his imagination—and maybe that was because he was now picturing her in a club. A hot, sweaty, noisy club surrounded by gyrating bodies in skimpy clothing.
Involuntarily, his dark eyes roved over her body. As always, she was neatly turned out in a white blouse, a grey, knee-length skirt and flat, black, sensible pumps. Just the sort of get-up most self-respecting twenty-something women would have flung to the back of their wardrobes. In his mind’s eye, however, he was seeing a cropped top, a short skirt and high heels...in flamboyant colours.
Aware of the direction of his gaze, Abby went bright red and adjusted her skirt primly. ‘Lucy wasn’t there on her own,’ she began.
‘Who were you there with?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Who did you go with? You’re normally so reserved when it comes to talking about yourself that I expect you can understand my curiosity now.’
‘No, I can’t, Gabriel,’ Abby told him flatly. ‘And if you’d stop interrupting me and allow me to continue...’
‘What does my fiancée have to do with you arriving late for work this morning?’
‘We spent a good part of the evening talking and I ended up getting home far later than I’d anticipated, hence I overslept. That’s why I’m late. And I overslept because I was up most of the night following our conversation.’
‘You’re talking in riddles.’
‘Lucy was there with a guy, Gabriel, someone called Rupert. I hate saying this, and I know that I should never have been tasked with saying it, but I promised so here goes: Lucy is having cold feet about the marriage. She was at the club with this man and they were obviously...somewhat intimate.’
Gabriel’s dark eyes flicked to her face and he stilled because this was hardly what he’d been expecting to hear. From anyone else, he might have wondered whether they were having him on or else overplaying something relatively innocent but, coming from his PA, those two options were ruled out immediately.
‘I’m sorry,’ Abby said huskily. ‘This isn’t something I want to be doing right now, but Lucy left me with little choice.’
‘Rupert.’
‘It would be far better if the two of you sat down and had a conversation about this without me in the middle being used as a go-between.’
‘So my fiancée is screwing someone else.’
‘I never said that!’
‘The implication is there.’ He clenched his jaw and strolled towards the vast pane of glass that occupied one side of his office and overlooked the city.
Hand thrust into his trouser pocket, he stared out, barely registering the busy streets several storeys below.
He should be gutted, devastated and raging with a desire to hit something or someone—Rupert at the very least, a guy he vaguely knew. Or maybe a brick wall. Something upon which he could vent his anger.
Actually, all he felt was a certain amount of disappointment. The best laid plans, he thought.
He felt Abby touch him gently on his shoulder and he spun round to register the concern on her smooth, oval face.
‘I’m very sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I think Lucy was anxious that you would be angry with her.’
‘So she thought she would use you as the middle man to diffuse some of my anger?’
‘I guess so. She really does like you, Gabriel. She just isn’t sure that you’re the one for her, or at least that was what she told me. I wouldn’t normally have this conversation but she was desperate for me to pass on the message.’
‘How thoughtful of her. Since I appear to be having