In The Boss's Castle. Jessica Gilmore
He handed her the pink cocktail before tasting his own blue confection and grimaced as the sweet yet medicinal taste hit his tongue. ‘Or maybe not. Is this supposed to taste like cough syrup? Anyway, cheers. Great job on the party.’
‘Thank you.’ It was as if a light had been switched on in her green eyes, turning them from pretty glass to a darker, more dangerous emerald. ‘Hope started it all. I just followed her instructions.’
‘The party favours were your idea, and the band, I believe.’
Her eyes lit up even more. ‘I didn’t know you’d noticed. It just seemed perfect, nineteen twenties and a murder mystery.’ The guests’ goody bags contained chocolate murder weapons straight out of a golden-age crime novel: hatpins and candlesticks, pearl-handled revolvers and a jar-shaped chocolate labelled Cyanide. The cute chocolates had caused quite a stir and several guests were trying to make sure they went home with a full set. Turned out even this jaded crowd could be excited by something novel and fun.
‘Excuse me.’
Kit looked around, an enquiring eyebrow raised, only for the young man hovering behind him to ignore him entirely while he thrust a card in Maddison’s direction. ‘It was lovely to meet you earlier. Do give me a call. I would love to show you around London. Oh, and happy birthday.’
‘Thank you.’ She accepted the card with a half-smile, sliding it neatly into her bag. Kit tried to sneak a look as the card disappeared into the depths. How many other cards did she have in there? And what had the young man said?
‘It’s your birthday?’
Maddison nodded. ‘Today.’
‘I didn’t realize.’ Kit felt strangely wrong-footed. How hadn’t he known? He’d always remembered Hope’s birthday although, come to think of it, that was because she made sure it was in his work calendar and lost no opportunity to remind him that flowers were always acceptable, chocolates even more so and vouchers for the local spa most acceptable of all. ‘I’m so sorry you had to work. I hope you have exciting plans for the rest of your evening and weekend?’
Maddison paused, her eyes lowered. ‘Sure.’ But her tone lacked conviction.
‘Like?’ Kit cursed himself as he pushed. She’d said she had plans so he should take her word at face value and leave her in peace. He didn’t need to know the details; she was a grown woman.
A grown woman in a new city where she knew hardly anyone.
Maddison took a visible deep breath before looking directly at him, a smile pasted on to her face. ‘A film and a takeaway. I’m going to explore the city a little more tomorrow. Low-key, you know? I don’t know many people here yet.’
‘You’re staying in alone, on your birthday?’
‘I have a cocktail.’ She waved the glass of pink liquid at him. ‘It’s okay.’
He’d heard the lady. She said she was okay—and, judging by the cards she was collecting, the room was full of men who would gladly help her celebrate any way she wished to.
Only she was new to the country... Kit had thought his conscience had died three years ago but some ghost of it was struggling back to life. ‘What about the other girls at work? None of them free?’
‘It’s a little awkward, you know? Technically I’m at the same level as all the other assistants but they all sit in the same office and I’m on the executive floor so we don’t see each other day-to-day.’ She hesitated. ‘I think Hope didn’t really socialize so there’s this assumption I’m the same.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s fine. I just haven’t prioritized making friends since I got here. There’s plenty of time.’ She attempted another full smile; this one nearly reached her eyes. ‘I’m actually quite good at it when I try.’
His conscience gave another gasp. He should have thought to check that she was settling in, but she had been so efficient from day one. Besides, the annoying ghost of conscience past whispered, if you had noticed, what would you have done about it? But she had put a lot of work in tonight and it was her birthday... Even Kit couldn’t be so callous as to abandon her to a lonely night of pizza and a romcom. ‘I can’t possibly let you go home alone to watch a film on your birthday, especially after all the hard work you put in today. The least I can do is buy you a drink.’ He looked at his blue drink and shuddered. ‘A real drink. What do you say?’
SHE SHOULD HAVE said no.
The last thing Maddison needed was a pity date. Even worse, a pity date with her boss. But Kit had caught her at a vulnerable moment. Nice as it was to be flirted with by not just one, or two, but several men at the party, all of whom had their own teeth, hair and impressive-sounding job titles, she couldn’t help but remember this time last year and the adorable little inn in Connecticut Bart had whisked her off to. Three months ago she was reasonably confident that this birthday he’d propose—not break up with her two months before.
Which meant she wouldn’t be married at twenty-seven and a mother by twenty-eight. Her whole, carefully planned timetable redundant. Somehow she was going to have to start again. Only she had no idea how or who or where...
Happy birthday to me. Maddison sighed, the age-long loneliness forcing its way out of the box she had buried it in, creeping back around her heart, her soul. It wasn’t that she minded the lack of cards and presents. She’d got used to that a long time ago. But she couldn’t help feeling that at twenty-six her birthday should matter to someone. Especially to her. Instead she’d been in denial all day. She wasn’t sure why she’d mentioned it to the young sales guy, maybe some pathetic need to have some kind of acknowledgement, no matter how small.
That’s enough. She wasn’t a wallower, she was a fighter and she never, ever looked back. Maddison pushed herself off the plush velvet sofa and paced the length of the room. If she did have to wait in Kit Buchanan’s house while he changed then she might as well take advantage and find out as much as she could about him. From the little she had gathered he was a constant source of speculation at work, but although the gossips were full of theories they had very few solid facts. A few juicy titbits could give her a way in with the social groups at work. She couldn’t just bury herself and her sore pride away for the whole six months like some Roman exile marooned on a cold and damp island.
After all, the weather in London was much nicer than she had expected.
At least it was just her pride that hurt. She’d never be foolish enough to give away her heart without some kind of security.
Stop thinking about it, Maddison scolded herself, looking up at the high ceiling as if in supplication. She had five months left in London; she needed to start living again so she could return to New York full of European polish and fizzing with adventure. If that didn’t bring Bart back on his knees, diamond ring in one hand, nothing would. After all, didn’t they say absence made the heart grow fonder? Think how fond he could grow if word got back to him of just how good a time she was having in London...
A piece of elaborate-looking plaster work caught her eye. Original, she’d bet, just like the tiles on the hallway floor and the ceiling roses holding the anachronistically modern lights. The huge semi-detached house overlooking a lushly green square was the last place she’d expected Kit to live; she would have laid money on some kind of trendy apartment, all glass and chrome, not the white-painted Georgian house. It was even more impressive than Bart’s brownstone.
She hadn’t seen much in the way of personal touches so far. A tiled hallway with no clutter at all, just a hat stand, a mirror and an antique sideboard with a small bowl for his keys. There was nothing left lying around in the living room either except a newspaper on the coffee table, neatly folded at the nearly completed crossword, and just one small photo on the impressive marble mantle—a black-and-white picture of two teenage boys, grinning identical smiles, hanging over the rail on a boat. She had no trouble identifying