“Just coming, Janet,” Luke calls back with a professional smile. He turns to me, still smiling. “Becky, what the fuck has been going on?”
“It’s… It’s a bit of a long story,” I say, my face hot.
“Were you planning to share this story with me at any stage?” Luke’s smile is fixed in place, but there’s a definite edge to his voice.
“Yes! Of course! I was just… waiting for the right moment.”
“Do you think this might possibly be a good moment? Bearing in mind he’s a few fucking yards away?”
“Er… yes! Absolutely.” I cough nervously. “Well. It all began… er… in a shop, as it happens—”
“Too late,” interrupts Luke in an undertone. “He’s coming.”
I follow Luke’s gaze to see that Nathan Temple has got out of his chair and is advancing toward us.
“So, here he is.” His hoarse voice greets us. “The elusive Luke Brandon. You’ve been keeping your husband from me, young lady, haven’t you?” He wags a mock-accusing finger at me.
“Of course not!” I laugh shrilly. “Er… Luke, do you know Nathan Temple? We met in Milan, um… remember, darling?” I give a bright, fake smile as if I’m a dinner party hostess and this is all perfectly normal.
“Good evening, Mr. Temple,” says Luke calmly. “How nice to meet you properly.”
“It’s a pleasure.” Nathan Temple claps Luke on the back. “So, you’re feeling better, I hope.”
Luke’s eyes flicker toward me, then immediately back to Nathan Temple.
“I’m feeling quite well,” he replies. “May I ask what this… unexpected visit is regarding?”
“Well,” says Nathan Temple, reaching in his coat pocket for a monogrammed silver cigar case. “Seems you won’t take calls from my office.”
“I’ve been very busy this week,” Luke replies without flinching. “I do apologize if my secretaries have failed to pass on your messages. Was there something in particular you wanted to discuss?”
“My hotel project,” says Nathan, offering Luke a cigar. “Our hotel project, I should say.”
Luke starts to reply, but Nathan Temple lifts a hand to stop him. He carefully lights his cigar and puffs on it a few times. “Forgive me for turning up here out of the blue,” he says at last. “But when I want something… I don’t hang around. I go and get it. Much like your good wife here.” His eyes twinkle. “I’m sure she told you the story.”
“I think she was probably saving up the best part,” Luke says with a tight smile.
“I like your wife,” Nathan Temple says affably. He blows out a cloud of smoke and runs appraising eyes over me. “You want to come to work for me anytime, sweetheart, you just give me a ring.”
“Gosh!” I say, a bit thrown. “Er… thanks!”
I glance apprehensively at Luke. A vein is throbbing in his forehead.
“Becky,” he says in polite, measured tones. “Might we have a little word? Do excuse us for a moment,” he adds.
“No problem.” Nathan Temple nods at his cigar. “I’ll finish this up. Then we can talk.”
Luke marches me into a little meeting room and closes the door. Then he turns to me, his face all tight and businesslike.
Suddenly I’m scared.
“OK, Becky, start from the beginning. No—” He interrupts himself. “Cut to the middle. How do you know Nathan Temple?”
“I met him when we were in Milan. I was in this shop and he… he did me this favor.”
“He did you a favor?” Luke looks taken aback. “What kind of favor? Were you taken ill? Did you get lost?”
My mind is scurrying around, trying to think of the best way to put it. I’m not sure there is one.
“There was this… handbag,” I say at last.
“A handbag?” Luke looks taken aback. “He bought you a handbag?”
“No! I bought it. But he got me to the top of the list. He was really sweet! And I was really grateful… ” I’m twisting my hands into knots. “So then when we were back in England he phoned up and said he wanted you to be involved with his hotel… ”
“And what did you say?” says Luke, his voice dangerously quiet.
“The thing is”—I swallow—“I thought you’d love to do a hotel launch.”
The door suddenly bursts open and Gary comes into the room.
“What’s going on?” he says, wide-eyed. “What’s Nathan Temple doing here?”
“Ask Becky.” Luke gestures toward me. “It seems she’s been having quite the correspondence with him.”
“I didn’t know who he was!” I say defensively. “I had no idea! He was just this lovely Cockney man who got me my bag…”
“Bag?” says Gary, his eyes swiveling from me to Luke. “What bag?”
“Becky appears to have offered my services to Nathan Temple in return for a handbag,” says Luke curtly.
“A handbag?” Gary looks stunned.
“It wasn’t just any old handbag!” I exclaim, rattled. “It was a limited edition Angel bag! There’s only a few of them in the whole world! It was on the cover of Vogue! All the movie stars want one and everything!”
Both men look at me as though I’m speaking Martian.
“And anyway,” I say, my face burning, “I thought doing a hotel launch would be fab! It’s five-star and everything! You’d get to meet celebrities!”
“Celebrities?” echoes Luke, suddenly losing it. “Becky, I don’t need to meet those kind of celebrities! I don’t need to be launching some tacky criminal’s hotel! I need to be here, with my team, focusing on my new client’s needs.”
“I didn’t realize!” I say desperately. “I thought it was a brilliant networking coup!”
“Calm down, boss,” Gary says to Luke soothingly. “We haven’t promised him anything—”
“She has.” Luke gestures toward me, and Gary now seems at a total loss.
“I didn’t… promise exactly.” My voice shakes a little. “I just said… you’d be delighted.”
“You realize how much harder this makes it for me?” Luke is holding his head in his hands. “Becky, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me about it in Milan?”
The room is very still.
“Because the Angel bag cost two thousand euros,” I say at last in a tiny voice. “I thought you’d be cross.”
“Jesus Christ…” Luke sounds at the end of his tether.
“And then I didn’t want to bother you! You were so busy with the Arcodas pitch… I thought I’d deal with it myself. And I was dealing with it.”
“ ‘Dealing with it,’ ” echoes Luke incredulously. “How were you dealing with it?”
“I told Nathan Temple you were ill,” I gulp.
Comprehension dawns on Luke’s face.
“The bunch of flowers,” he says in even tones. “Was that from Nathan Temple?” Oh God.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“He sent you flowers?” says Gary in disbelief.
“And a fruit basket,” says Luke shortly.
Gary gives a sudden snort of laughter.
“It’s not funny,” says Luke, his voice like whiplash. “We’ve just won the biggest pitch of our lives. We should be out celebrating. Not having to deal with bloody Nathan Temple sitting in our foyer.” He sinks into a chair.
“We don’t want to make an enemy of him, Luke,” says Gary, pulling a small face. “Not if he’s going to buy the Daily World.”
Luke’s face is tense and motionless. I don’t dare say a word.
Then abruptly he stands up. “We can’t sit here all day. I’ll go and see him. If I have to do the job I have to do the job.” He gives me a look. “I just hope the handbag was worth it, Becky. I really hope it was worth it.”
I feel a sudden stab of pain.
