Bea grinned. ‘His name is Jack, I’ve known him for years, and he comes from my home town.’
‘Interesting, is he?’ Margot queried, with a suggestive flicker of her eyebrows.
‘Well, he did once tie me up.’
‘Bondage... This I must hear. If you get back before eleven pop in and tell me all about him. It’s about the only way I get a thrill nowadays. Vicariously.’
‘Liar,’ Bea chuckled. ‘I’ve heard you on the telephone to a certain financial advisor in the office three floors above us.’
Margot winked. ‘Enough said. Tom left half an hour ago, so I’m off. Enjoy yourself.’ And, closing the door behind her as she left, Bea heard her shout, ‘Don’t forget to lock the outer door.’
A lingering smile played around Bea’s lips. She could still hear a mumble coming from next door—probably Margot talking to herself. She was prone to speaking her thoughts out loud.
Though Bea hated to admit that Leon could be right about anything, he had been right about Margot becoming a friend. Over the past two weeks the two women had developed a good working relationship, and had also become firm pals.
The offices of Stephen-Gregoris occupied the first floor of a prestigious block in the heart of the city, and, arriving for work on her first day, Bea had naturally felt nervous. A rather superior blonde girl had shown her to what was to be her office, but in fact was a small partitioned section of Margot’s much larger one, which in turn led straight to the manager’s. Then Margot had walked out of Tom Jordan’s office, apologised for not being there to greet her, and had immediately taken Bea under her wing.
Only Tom Jordan and Margot knew Bea owned part of the company, but Margot showed no resentment at the fact. She had taken Bea on a tour of the office, and introduced her to all the staff with the explanation that Bea was the new graduate trainee who was to work in each department for a few weeks to get the feel of the operation and would probably end up in the finance section.
The fact that Margot’s apartment was in the same block as Bea’s was an added bonus. They’d quickly decided to travel to work together, and had shared the occasional meal or a gossip over coffee.
Stretching, Bea glanced at her watch: it was after six. She was meeting Jack at Covent Garden, a short taxi ride away. Jack had done extremely well for himself; he’d gained a first at Oxford and for the past two years had held a high-profile job with a top merchant bank in London. It would be good fun to catch up on all his news.
With a contented sigh at the completion of the last spreadsheet, Bea switched off her computer terminal and stood up. It was very quiet, but then the building usually emptied early on a Friday.
Bea reckoned she had just enough time for a wash and brush-up, and, with a quick glance around the room, she picked up her bag from the desk, checked she had the office key, and left.
Crossing Margot’s office, Bea hesitated. What was that sound she’d heard? She turned and looked around. That’s funny, she thought, the door to Tom Jordan’s office is half open. It’s unlike Margot to forget to lock it.
She waited a moment longer, but everything was quiet, and so, with a shrug of her shoulders, she crossed to where she knew Margot kept a spare key in her desk drawer. And got another surprise. The key was not in the drawer, but lying on the desktop. The woman’s mind was slipping; Bea would tease her about it tomorrow.
A couple of seconds later and Bea had closed and locked Tom’s door, and the outer one behind her.
Singing softly to herself—she was looking forward to tonight—Bea headed for the ladies’ room. Stephen-Gregoris provided excellent facilities for the female staff. A pleasant restroom with a locker provided for everyone, two shower cubicles and the usual accompaniments. Opening her locker, she withdrew a towel and toilet bag and crossed to the row of vanity basins occupying one wall.
She was not going to change; the smart blue suit, with its double-breasted short-sleeved jacket and short straight skirt, which she had worn all day with a high-necked white blouse, would do for the evening—minus the blouse. Bea removed her jacket and the blouse and hung them on the back of a chair, and then quickly washed and redid her make-up. Slipping the jacket back on, she fastened the buttons and checked her image in the mirror.
She pursed her lips; the deep vee of the jacket lapels maybe revealed a little too much cleavage. She would have to remember not to bend forward and reveal the lace of her bra—or maybe she could remove the bra! What the hell? she told herself. You’re in the city now... And she did. Then, rashly, she unpinned her hair from its rather severe chignon and let it fall loose about her shoulders.
Her jacket back in place, she stopped in the act of picking up her hairbrush. Was that someone hurrying down the corridor? Must be Security... Tipping her head forward, she brushed her hair until it crackled with life and then swung it back. The effect was rather good, even if she did say so herself. Having been pinned up all day, her usually straight silver-blonde hair had developed a rather nice bouncy curl around the ends.
A quick spray of her favourite perfume, and she was ready. Quickly she replaced her toiletries in the locker, with her discarded bra and blouse, and with a last look at her reflection she made for the door.
Bea stepped out into the hall. Just at that moment the office door she had so recently locked was flung open. She expected to see a security man, but what she actually saw stopped her in her tracks.
‘You—you crazy little bitch. I might have guessed,’ Leon Gregoris roared, and came barrelling towards her, a security man hard on his heels, apologising madly.
‘Leave it—and us. I will deal with this,’ Leon snarled at the poor man, and Bea watched in open-mouthed amazement as the security man disappeared at a run. She turned back just in time to have Leon grab her by the arm. ‘I suppose you thought that was funny—a stupid, childish practical joke. My God! Are you never going to grow up?’
Bea shook her head. It was a dream—it had to be. One minute she was in an empty office building, preparing for a date, the next Leon had appeared out of nowhere, breathing fire and brimstone. She hadn’t been far wrong when she’d thought he looked like a warlock. She glanced curiously up into his red, furious face; the devil himself might be nearer the mark.
‘Well, woman, what have you to say for yourself?’
‘I haven’t the foggiest notion what you’re talking about,’ she offered, with another shake of her head. He was dressed in a dark blue suit and white silk shirt, with a maroon silk tie half undone around his neck. The white of his shirt only served to emphasise his darkly flushed features. ‘Where did you come from?’ she asked in obvious puzzlement.
Hell itself, if the flames leaping in his black eyes were anything to go by as they seared down into hers!
‘Don’t give me that wide-eyed innocent look. You deliberately locked me in that office. Didn’t you?’
Suddenly she was aware of the fierce grip of his hand around her forearm; the heat of his large body seemed to reach out to engulf her. Swallowing hard, she tried to pull free. ‘Locked you in the office?’ she muttered inanely. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t even know you were here,’ she added, gathering her composure. ‘I think you’ve had a brainstorm. Maybe you should see a doctor.’
‘I sometimes wonder that myself. Why I put up with you I will never know,’ Leon grated, scowling down at her. ‘You drive me to distraction almost every time we meet. What is it with you? Is it your purpose in life to deliberately make me look a fool?’
‘I don’t have to; you do that very well yourself. That poor security man looked petrified. What on earth did you say to him?’ She watched him warily; she saw him take a few deep breaths, his massive chest expand and contract beneath the soft fabric