His Saving Grace

Chapter 7

GRACE

I make it home a couple of hours later. Tess is fast asleep in my bed and, after showering and slipping into some fresh underwear, I climb in next to her. I don’t sleep well, and not just because Tess spreads herself out like a starfish. My brain won’t switch off. I think about him…at work, in his car, but mostly I remember how good it felt when he f****d me in that damn bathroom.

Eventually, I drift into a restless sleep, but I’m awake again before the alarm sounds.

Tess grumbles at the noise and kicks me in the shin. “Make it stop,” she mumbles, clamping a pillow over her head. “It’s my day off.”

“Well it’s not mine,” I say, smiling at her dramatics. She’s never been a morning person.

I silence the alarm and crawl out of bed, feeling ninety years old as I stumble to the bathroom. I’m exhausted and unexpectedly nauseous.

There’s an anxious feeling in my stomach, similar to that twinge you get when you know you’ve forgotten something important but can’t remember what it is. I search my mind for the answer while I get ready for work but by the time I reach the stairwell, leaving Tess in bed, I’m none the wiser.

Only when I spot James’ car waiting outside my building, making the sickly sensation dissolve, does it hit me. I’d been nervous that he wouldn’t show. Ludicrous, given the fact that I hate him.

I stride straight over and slip into the passenger seat. With one hand on the wheel and the other on the back of my headrest in preparation to reverse, he raises an eyebrow. “No opposition this morning?”

His hand is too near my face. He smells of spicy aftershave and cigarettes. It’s intoxicating and my thoughts become blurry, so I turn away before I say something stupid. Plus, he looks hot in his expensive f*****g suit. Why does he have to be so damn gorgeous? It just makes it harder for me to dislike him.

“What time did you leave last night?” he asks as the car starts to move.

“Just after nine.”

“Be sure to let admin know. You’ll be paid double time for the extra hours.”

That’s unexpected and it brings a smile to my face. The ensuing silence seems awkward and I consider turning on the radio but I don’t feel as bold as yesterday.

“So,” James begins. “Are you working on anything right now?”

“Um… you mean a book?”

He nods, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “Yes.”

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I’m not used to discussing my writing. No one ever asks except Tess. My family know, but in all honesty I’m sure they think I’m wasting my time on an unrealistic fantasy. They don’t understand. It’s not about fame and bestseller lists. I write because I enjoy it. Other people reading my work is a bonus, not a necessity. “I’m taking a little break. I started something new last month but I’m not quite connecting with it yet.”

“Ah, you’re in the dating phase. You’re still getting to know your characters.”

“You write?” I ask, studying his face as he drives. He’s said a couple of things since we met that makes me think he understands life behind the pen.

“No,” he says, making eye contact with me for a brief second before looking back to the road. “But I’ve been in this business a long time. You pick things up.”

This morning I don’t question it when he takes the ‘wrong’ turning. I assume stopping for coffee is part of his daily routine.

“Coffee?” he offers as he slows to a stop on the street behind Costa.

“Please,” I answer, reaching into my wallet and removing a fiver. He tries to push my hand away but I grab his arm and force the note into his fist. After a few seconds, he grins at me and I realise it’s because I’m still holding his wrist. Embarrassed, I snatch my grip away and stare down at my knees.

When I see James return holding coffee cups and two paper bags, I roll my eyes. I didn’t give him enough cash for food and I decide he’s done it on purpose just to piss me off.

When he opens the door, I take the bag from him but I can’t prevent the scowl that appears on my face. “I’m not hungry.”

“Ah, there’s the Grace I know,” he says, sniggering as he slides into his seat. “Thought I’d lost you there for a little while.”

Sarcastic bastard.

“If it makes you feel better, I used my loyalty points. Didn’t cost me anything.”

It doesn’t. Presumptuous bastard.

I don’t speak the rest of the way. Instead, I listen to James sing along to Run by Snow Patrol. I tell myself it’s annoying and that he can’t sing for s**t, but truthfully he’s actually pretty good. His tone is deep, soothing.

I still hate him.

As we walk to the office I purposely lag behind a few steps, not wanting to give Mike any more ammunition. When James reaches the lift, I notice Bell scurry towards him, looking up at him with eager puppy-eyes while handing him a file. I guess this means James’ PA is still absent. It frustrates me. I miss having Bell around. It means I have to work doubly hard and make twice as many coffees.

I run into Mike as soon as I exit the stairs. It’s hard to believe I thought he had a nice a*s just ten days ago. Now, I’m struggling to find a single redeeming quality about him. “I need you to make a reservation at Paulo’s for one o’clock. Eight people. Secluded spot.”

Good morning to you, too. “Sure,” I say, carrying on toward my desk.

“I have a meeting in my office at ten. Make sure you’re there to provide refreshments.”

“No problem.”

“And Carol in editing has some files for me. I need you to collect those beforehand.”

Anything else? Want me to stick a broom up my a*s too, and sweep the floors as I go? “Yep.”

“Oh, and arrange a meeting with Davidson. I need to talk to him about a client.”

“Sure.”

Mike starts to walk away and I sigh in relief, pulling out my chair.

“Before you sit down,” he calls, turning back.

Oh for f**k’s sake.

“Go to his office. He’ll only ignore you on the phone. While you’re there tell him I need Walsh back here this afternoon. I want her to join me at the lunch meeting. Do it now.”

“Sure,” I agree again, although I’m pretty certain you don’t tell James Davidson to do anything.

Huffing, I shove my chair back under my desk and make my way to the top floor. This isn’t turning out to be such a dream job after all.

**********

I have no idea how it’s become routine, but I’ve climbed into James’ car every morning and afternoon this week. I’m trying so hard not to like him, but he’s not making it easy. One minute he’s irritating the hell out of me, the next he makes me laugh. Then he gets smug because he’s put a smile on my face and I’m right back to hating him again.

James is singing to Rhythm of Love by the Plain White T’s when he veers into the small car park next to my block of flats and it’s hard not to feel uplifted by the juvenile, carefree expression on his face. He throws his all into the words, pulling faces and twisting his body as if he’s on stage.

“Oh come on,” he says, turning the music down. “How can you not sing to this song?”

You’ve heard my singing voice. It’s not pretty. “Quite easily,” I reply, my expression stoic. I get out of the car without saying ‘See you tomorrow,’ because, as always, I’m not planning to accept another lift to work in the morning, even though I know I will.

I start walking down the concrete path to my building when I hear his car door close. Is he following me? I think, but I don’t turn around. Then he carries on singing the lyrics to Rhythm of Love, his hand appearing on my shoulder and spinning me around.

“Dance with me,” he says, positioning my arms into a tango position.

He sways me from side to side, still singing, still smiling, and as much as I don’t want to, I give in and laugh. “What’s gotten into you? People will stare at us!”

“So?”

He twirls me around and grinds our hips together, in the middle of a public car park in broad frigging daylight…and I let him, because it’s fun. Until two teenage girls walk past, pointing and giggling like we’ve just escaped from an asylum.

Pulling back, unable to stop smiling, I shake my head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

James grins, that smug half-smile that annoys me so much. “That’s all I wanted from you.”

Seriously? He did all that because I didn’t say I’d see him tomorrow? It frustrates me that I’ve given him exactly what he wants. “You’re such a loser.”

“A loser who’ll see you at eight AM sharp.” He winks and it makes me feel giddy. I don’t let it show, or so I think before the smarmy jerk smiles even wider. “Good night, Grace.”

Don’t reply. Don’t reply. “Good night, James.”

For f**k’s sake

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