‘And do you really believe his good opinion is honestly worth having?’ Raising his eyebrow, Conall waited with interest for her answer.
‘If you’re referring to the bottles…’ Morgen’s eyes drifted towards the now closed cabinet and a tinge of pink highlighted her beautiful cheekbones. ‘The fact that he’s got a problem with drink doesn’t make him a bad person, or a man whose opinion doesn’t count. He’s won awards for this company, Mr O’Brien, as I’m sure you must be aware. He’s a talented architect with a bright future. Right now he needs help and support. He doesn’t deserve to lose his job because his world suddenly fell apart when his wife walked out.’
‘And what about what this firm deserves, hmm?’ Rubbing at the smooth tanned skin between his brows, Conall frowned. ‘We have our reputation to think of…clients who expect a first-class service. If that level of service starts to suffer because of individuals like Derek Holden, who can’t cut it when their personal lives start to encroach on their work, then I’m sorry—but we’re not in the business of extending patience indefinitely. If he can’t get his act together pretty soon then there are plenty of other ambitious young architects waiting to fill his shoes.’
Several thoughts jumped into Morgen’s head at once, but one inched ahead of all the rest. The man was ruthless…unbending. He didn’t care if Derek was suffering the torments of hell. All Conall O’Brien cared about was that right now Derek wasn’t ‘cutting it’—ergo, he wasn’t making any money for the firm. It would serve him right if she walked out right now in protest. Nobody was indispensable, that was true, but he was going to have a hell of a time making sense of things without her around to explain them. Especially when all the other secretaries were run off their feet as well. She was tempted to do it, too.
Seeing the conflict in her troubled green eyes, Conall feigned a look of boredom, wondering what she’d do if he called her bluff.
‘So, Miss McKenzie…are you staying or going?’
‘I won’t let Derek down.’ She was fidgeting with her hands, and her angry glance slid away from Conall’s un-flinching stare. Her emphatic statement made it quite clear that it was Derek she owed her allegiance to—not him or the firm.
He wanted to admire her loyalty—no matter how misplaced, in his opinion. After all, hadn’t her boss let her down too, leaving her to face the music while he drowned his sorrows at home? But Conall found he couldn’t. It irked him immensely that she insisted on trying to protect a man who clearly didn’t deserve it.
‘Good. Now that we’ve established that you don’t want to make yourself unemployed, perhaps we can get some work done around here?’
The expression on Morgen’s face told him she wanted to throw something at him. The fact only hardened his resolve to deal with the situation in his own inimitable way—the way that had turned his father’s business into the successful firm it was today. Conall gestured at the unopened files on the desk. ‘Are these current projects?’ When she nodded mutely, he slipped behind the desk and sat down in the big leather chair that Derek Holden usually occupied. ‘Bring me some more coffee and I’ll take a look while I’m here.’
Biting back ‘I’m not your servant,’ Morgen swallowed her pride and reluctantly returned to the outer office to fetch his cup. As she poured coffee with a shaking hand, she couldn’t help wondering for how long she and her boss would keep their jobs now that their dictatorial senior partner had made his ominous presence felt.
CHAPTER TWO
THE ringing of the phone on her desk made her jump. She snatched it up guiltily, wondering if Conall was straining an ear to keep tabs on her movements. Glancing at the door to Derek’s office, and seeing it closed, she breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Morgen McKenzie.’
‘It’s Derek.’
‘For goodness’ sake! Where are you?’ Cupping the mouthpiece with her hand, she turned her head again, to make doubly sure the door to the other office was shut.
‘I’m at home. Where do you think I bloody am?’
As Morgen had expected, he sounded irritable and hung-over. Her stomach knotted with deep apprehension.
‘Do you know who you missed an appointment with this morning?’
‘Don’t play games with me, Morgen, I’m not in the mood. Whoever it was I’m sure it will keep. Thankfully, you always come up with the perfect excuse to explain my absences. That’s what makes you such a priceless assistant.’
‘And that’s supposed to be a good quality? Lying?’
‘What?’
She heard the chink of glass, then something heavy thud to the floor. Instinct and experience told her that he had already been drinking this morning and probably still was. If Conall caught so much a whiff of the fact they’d both be for the high jump.
‘Your meeting was with Conall O’Brien, Derek. Does the name ring any bells?’
‘Oh, sh—!’
‘My sentiments exactly. However, that doesn’t do either of us any good. He’s still here in your office, waiting to see you. First impressions predispose me to believe that he’s prepared to wait quite a while until you show up.’ Though he had mentioned to Morgen that he had a one o’clock lunch appointment, she remembered. Glancing down at her watch, she saw that it was a little after twelve-thirty. Thank God the man would be leaving soon—but, more importantly, how soon would he be back?
‘Have pity, Morgen! I’m in no fit state to deal with that man. I can’t possible—possibly come in today. You’ll have to tell him I’m ill or something.’
Gritting her teeth, Morgen glared at the phone. ‘I’ve already told him that, Derek, but quite frankly I don’t think he believed me.’ Now wasn’t the time to reveal that Conall had wandered into his office the very moment Derek’s empty whisky bottles had rolled out onto the floor in front of him. If he knew that he’d been rumbled—by the head of the firm, no less—there was no telling what Derek might do in his present state of mind. ‘You’ll just have to try and come in. Make some coffee, then grab a quick shower. I’ll order you a taxi and meet you downstairs in the lobby.’
He sighed noisily in response. ‘I can’t do it. I feel like death, if you must know. You’re asking me to do the im-impossible.’
Damn Nicky Holden for leaving him in the lurch! But what was the use of blaming his wife? It was Derek’s reaction to the whole sorry mess that was making things worse. Who would have thought that a successful, confident, bright young man who designed major projects worth millions of pounds would fall apart like a house of cards because his marriage hadn’t worked out? Morgen could only wonder. It wasn’t that she was unsympathetic. She had been through a similar scenario herself, and been five months pregnant to boot when her husband Simon had walked out. The difference being that she just hadn’t had the option of falling apart. Not when she had a baby to take care of and a widowed mother who constantly looked to her for support.
Sighing now, she scraped her hand through her hair and completely dislodged the little tortoiseshell comb that held it in place. The dark silky strands of her shoulder-length hair escaped to slip round her face.
‘There’s only one thing for it, then. I’ll come to you and help you sort yourself out. I’ll be with you just as soon as I can order a cab. For God’s sake, stay put—and, Derek…?’
‘Yes, Morgen?’
‘Don’t