“Re-launch?” she echoed, and looked up.
“Yes. Once I’ve implemented my changes, and the new ad campaign’s in place, we’re re-launching Dashwood and James in a big way, with a stellar event here at the flagship store.” He leaned forward. “You’ll handle the planning, start to finish. Draft me up a business plan with the details.”
Natalie tapped her pen irritably against the steno pad. “Was there anything else?” Shall I run ten thousand double-sided copies of the employee handbook? Organise the supply closet alphabetically? Clean the lav with a toothbrush?
“Yes. After we’re done here, go to the coffee shop and get me a tall espresso macchiato.”
Natalie surged to her feet. “This is ridiculous!” she snapped. “You promised to treat me like anyone else, but you’re treating me far worse! You’ve loaded me up with work, and it’s not fair. I’m not fetching you a bloody espresso, macchiato or otherwise. I’ve half a mind to—”
His blue gaze collided with hers. “To what, Miss Dashwood?” he asked evenly. “Go to your grandfather?”
She glared at him. Blimey, sometimes she despised him, the smug arsehole! “No,” she said through gritted teeth. “I only meant I’ve got to get started on your bloody list.”
“Good. Oh, and I like my espresso black,” he called out after her as she left. “No sugar.”
Natalie stiffened in the doorway, but made no reply as she stalked out of his office.
She stopped at Gemma’s desk. “Mr. Gordon wants to meet with IT Monday, in the early afternoon if possible—”
Gemma didn’t look up as her fingers flew over the keyboard. “Call IT yourself. I’m Mr. Gordon’s PA, not yours.”
“Oh. Yes. Right, I’ll…do that.” Natalie slunk back to her office with as much dignity as she could muster and picked up the phone. Rude cow. She scanned the phone list. Where was IT on the list? What exactly was IT, anyway? Something to do with computers, she knew that much—
“Miss Dashwood?” Rhys called out from his office. “Did you get that espresso yet?”
“On my way,” she called back. Out the bloody door, past Gemma’s desk, never to return again, she thought darkly. “I’ll be right back.”
By the end of the day, Natalie was exhausted. She’d telephoned, consulted, copied, fetched, and faxed until her head spun. Rhys wanted a working lunch and, since Gemma was gone for the day, Natalie picked up sandwiches from Prêt. Over tomato-and-cheese ciabattas, Rhys outlined his plans for the re-launch as Natalie scribbled madly to keep up with his thoughts.
At the end of the week Rhys approved her draft business plan for the re-launch. “Good job. I made a few changes.”
“Thanks,” she said, pleased. “I’ll make the changes and run you a copy.”
He nodded, his attention already focused elsewhere. “Make copies for the board members, too. We’ll need their approval.”
When Rhys’s changes were made, Natalie headed to the copier. “Gemma,” she called out as she passed the PA’s desk, “I’ll need these copies GBC bound when you get a chance.”
Gemma fixed her with a withering look. “I told you before, I support Mr. Gordon, not you—”
“Mr. Gordon’s orders,” Natalie replied crisply. “Speak with him if you take issue. Oh, and I need them by the end of the day. Thanks!”
Natalie strode down the hallway to the copier, leaving an outraged Gemma behind. Please let the bloody copier not jam, Nat prayed as she entered the copier room and stacked the business plan’s pages into the collator. Now, how many board members were there—?
“Hullo, Natalie.”
She glanced up, and her heart sank. “Oh. Mr. Clarkson.”
“Ian, please. No need to be so formal.” He paused. “I left you a message on Saturday, by the way. Did you get it?”
Oh, crap. “Yes, I did. Sorry, I’m afraid I forgot, I’ve had a lot of…stuff, going on.” Twelve copies, she decided, that should do it.
“Ah, yes. I’ve seen the tabloid stories about you and Mr. Gordon. That must be rather embarrassing.”
She shrugged. “Well, it’s not true, so it doesn’t matter.”
“So you’re not?” he asked, amused. “Having an affair with Rhys Gordon, I mean.”
“No,” Natalie retorted, “I’m not.” She pressed the start button. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve a lot to do.”
“Yes, I can see that.” He thrust his hands into his pockets. “Are you free for lunch? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
“How’s Alexa?” Natalie asked pointedly. “She’s due in a couple of months, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” he said. His smile remained in place. “And yes, I take your point — I’m married. Still, there’s no reason we can’t have lunch together, is there?”
“There’s every reason!” Natalie exclaimed. She lowered her voice as someone walked past. “Alexa’s my friend, Ian, and I won’t do that to her. So please stop hitting on me. I’m not interested.”
“You’ve made that very clear.” He took a step closer. “But we really do need to talk. It’s important. We can do it privately, or we can do it right here—”
Just then Gemma stuck her head around the doorway. “Ian, there you are. Would you be a lamb and carry some supplies to the closet for me? The boxes are quite heavy.”
“Yes, of course.” He gave Gemma a thinly-veiled glance of irritation and turned back to Natalie. “We’ll talk another time, Miss Dashwood.”
Not if I can help it, you smarmy jerk, she thought as she watched him leave.
A few minutes later Gemma returned. “Are those copies ready?” she asked crisply. “I have a few minutes to spare.” Before Natalie could answer, she added in a low voice, “I heard Ian asking you to lunch.”
“He makes my skin crawl.” Natalie shuddered as she gathered up the copies and handed them to Gemma. “And did you notice? He doesn’t wear his wedding ring, the cheating worm.”
“You want to watch him. He’s hit on every woman in the office under thirty — including me.”
“How did you get him to stop?”
Gemma smiled. “The direct method. I kicked him in the balls.”
Natalie gasped, and giggled. “You didn’t.”
“He couldn’t walk properly for a week. It was a month before he spoke to me. But he never bothered me again.”
Gemma turned on the GBC machine and together they worked in companionable silence to assemble the covers and spines for Natalie’s business plan.
Dashwood and James’s tearoom was festooned with birthday banners and balloons as Lady Dashwood blew out the candles on her birthday cake. “This is lovely! Thank you all so much.”
Natalie’s gaze swept over the faces gathered to celebrate her mum’s birthday. She’d arranged for the cake to be brought out on a trolley after lunch. Although her mother complained about the calories, she tucked into her slice with relish.
Natalie took her paper plate and sat next to Sir Richard. “Did you look at my business plan for the re-launch?”