Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“Hey, what happened to your hand?” Leighton helps himself to it and inspects the dressing.
I reclaim my limb as I peel my back away from the door and get on my way to the kitchen for coffee. “I cut it on a broken glass.”
“Ouch. Good weekend?” Leighton tracks me a few paces behind, and I look back to see he appears genuinely interested. “Your brother got married, right?”
“Right.” How does he know that? “And it was lovely, thank you.” I enter the kitchen and put a cup under the machine, spotting Sue bent over, reaching into the fridge. I clock Leighton eyeing her backside and cock my head when he sees I’ve caught him being a sleazebag. “Hi, Sue,” I say, eyes still on Leighton.
He clears his throat and gets his wandering eye under control, as Sue unbends her body and faces us, a smoothie carton in her hand. “Hey, kids,” she chirps. “Good weekend?”
“Excellent,” Leighton and I chime in unison, making both of us frown and glance at each other briefly before he clears his throat again and grabs a glass from the shelf, handing it to Sue. “You?” he asks.
“Well, I hammered my husband at golf, so yes. And we took our eldest back to university, so no.” She accepts the glass on a telling half-grin. “Thank you, Leighton.”
“Welcome.”
God, he’s such a suck-up. Sue toasts her empty glass at thin air. “Must get on.” She passes between us. “Don’t forget to keep an eye on that merger, Amelia. The whispers are rife,” she calls, looking back at me. “Gary said he mentioned it the night we were out for drinks.”
I try so hard to hide my smile, feeling Leighton’s equally poorly hidden scowl on my profile. “I will.”
Sue winks and leaves, and as expected, Leighton is on me like a rash. “What merger?”
I hit the button for a black Americano, pondering whether I should tell him. Tilda’s words come back to me. You’re not a vulture, Amelia. I’m also not a dickhead. And speaking of Tilda Spector, has she made any decisions yet on where and who she’s passing her clients to? Should I touch base with her? Check in?
I sigh—I honestly don’t know—and get back to the matter at hand. Leighton Sleazeball Steers. “There are whispers on the grapevine about two of the big investment banks merging.”
Leighton reaches for a spoon and hands it to me. How helpful of him. “Sugar?”
“I’m sweet enough,” I quip on a sickly-sweet smile.
“You are.”
God give me strength. “It’s Gleneagles and Hollenbeck,” I tell him before he’s forced to butter me up some more as I pull my cup off the stand and take that first glorious sip. “I think one of them is secretly struggling, but who is yet to be determined. If the merger is handled well, it could skyrocket the shares.”
“And if it doesn’t—”
“Crash and burn,” I whisper, sounding menacing.
“Fuck, I have both in some of my clients’ portfolios,” Leighton muses, looking off into the distance.
“Me too, hence I’m keeping my ears open.” I walk off, feeling Leighton’s eyes on my arse. I glance back. I wasn’t wrong.
He smiles, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re a fair player, Amelia. Just let me know how I can repay you.”
He can repay me by keeping his slimy eyes off me. “Have a good day, Leighton.” I shudder, bumping into Shelley in the doorway. “Hey.”
“Morning,” she chimes.
“Here’s the birthday girl!” Leighton sings.
“Wait, it’s your birthday?”
“Thirty-five today,” Shelley says, giving Leighton pursed lips as she passes him on her way to the fridge. “I don’t need a birthday kiss.”
I laugh.
“You sure?” he asks, puckering.
“I’d rather burn in the deepest depths of hell.”
“Be careful, sweetheart—a PA is written in my stars, and I’ll choose you,” he declares, getting himself a coffee.
I widen my eyes, and Shelley looks like she could throw up all over the kitchen. “I’d quit first, Steers.”
He sounds sure he’s going to make partner and therefore get a PA thrown in with the role. Does he know something I don’t? I eye his back as he waits for his coffee but force the question down my throat—I don’t want him to think I’m worried—and walk back to my office, thoughtful, entering and coming to a startled stop when I find a bouquet of flowers on my desk. I already know they’re not Jude’s doing. He doesn’t do small when it comes to flowers. “Shit,” I breathe, approaching with caution. I spot a card nestled amid the carnations and pluck it out, cringing all over the words from Nick.
You looked beautiful on Saturday. It was so good to see you. Nick. xxx
I groan and drop to my chair, tossing the card onto my desk. Did he forget I ignored him hammering on my hotel room door?
“I’ve never seen someone so pissed off after receiving flowers,” Sue says, her head popped around the door.