Nikki Moore - Crazy, Undercover, Love

‘Thirty-one. Why?’

‘You said you’d been in charge for seven years, I wondered how old you were when you took over, given the level of responsibility. Twenty-four. Pretty young.’ Ouch. Most people that age are still finding themselves, dabbling around the edges of life, and there he was, running a massive organisation.

Lips compressing, any humour flees. ‘I’m the oldest son and they trusted me,’ he states, face going curiously blank.

I’m intrigued about the story there but it’s none of my business. ‘It wasn’t a criticism, just an observation.’

‘Yes, well, back to the facts. The business has grown more recently to include chains of hotels, casinos, media companies and a small banking arm. The organisation currently employs over ten thousand people.’

Interesting how he refers to it as ‘the organisation’ and doesn’t take personal credit for it, like he’s talking about something someone else has done. But he should be proud. He may not have clawed his way to the top through hard grind, but he’s made the business more successful since taking over and he must work punishing hours for such rapid expansion. The spoilt rich playboy I was worried he might be would surely have run a company into the ground over the years, or at best let it stagnate?

‘Thanks for the summary.’ I cross my legs. ‘So what do you need this weekend?’

‘You’re here to support me, set up presentations, attend meetings, take minutes and so on. Any problems with that?’

‘No, none whatsoever.’ I may be rusty but I’ll manage.

‘Great. Do you need to know anything more right now? It’s just that I need to finish off some emails.’ He waves the tablet at me.

‘No, that’s fine. Go ahead.’

‘Thank you.’

As he turns back to his task, I twist my hands together. This plan has to work. If I don’t get a proper job soon, a move back home is in the offing, along with asking Jess to buy me out of my half of the mortgage, which I know she’ll struggle to do. To my shame I’ve not been able to pay my share for the last two months. She can’t afford to keep propping us up, we both know it – we just haven’t had the conversation yet. I guess we keep hoping something will change, that something good will happen. Maybe this assignment is it?

Blowing out a long breath, I chew my bottom lip. Imagine having to move back in with my parents after so many years of independence. They’ll think they were right all along, that I should never have left the village. I can just picture having to face everyone. They’ll be so smug my adventure to the big city didn’t work out because they all love living in a quaint little corner of the world with traditional values. I shudder at the thought of being on the receiving end of all those pitying looks, the object of gossip. And the thought of leaving London makes me breathless. Before Tony arrived I had a job I loved, a nice flat, a fun social life, dates with creative musicians and jobbing actors, a fantastic circle of friends and great colleagues. Most of that’s gone … I can’t handle losing the last of it.

I wonder what my ex-colleagues are up to. Do they still have the same nights out, the after-hours parties? Despite being manager I was still part of the group, and Kitty (best croupier in the casino, according to her) and I were friends. I worked really hard, sometimes stupidly long hours, but I played hard too. Kitty and I had lots of adventures together, occasionally joined by Jess, and got ourselves into some pretty memorable situations. Walking through the city barefoot in the rain at three in the morning because our high heels were killing us; wearing giant cardboard boxes painted and taped up to look like Rubik’s cubes for a fancy-dress party; playing poker on a random rich guy’s yacht moored up at Canary Wharf. If I have to move back to my parents’, I’ll miss the bright lights of the city, the music and gigs, bustle of people and our laughter, usually fuelled by a mixture of white wine and Cosmos.

There haven’t been any fun nights out in months. I miss them. I glance over at Alex. Fun isn’t a word I’d use to describe him. Okay, so he’s laughed and cracked a couple of smiles and this is a business situation not a social one but still, he’s wound so tight, is so snappy and defensive. Perhaps not surprising given the responsibility he’s had since he was twenty-four – just three years younger than I am now. Maybe he doesn’t get a lot of down time.

I don’t think I’d be ready to take on a role with such massive accountability. Alex is responsible for keeping thousands of people in jobs; it’s a hell of a pressure for one person. No doubt he’s got a great team, but at the end of the day it all comes down to him. Could I do it? Would I want it? Building on a Business Studies NVQ from college, I got a distinction in a distance-learning professional qualification in people management and business administration a few years ago whilst working full-time and it damned near killed me. I loved learning and it helped when applying for the management job, but my social life went into sharp decline as a result. I was constantly turning down dates and cancelling plans in favour of staying in to do research or write assignments.

It made me wonder whether you can hold down a high-level job and still have time for other things, like love and family. None of the guys I dated during that time understood what I was trying to achieve. One of them labelled me a geek, nose stuck in a book when I could be out enjoying myself. He was right, I am a geek, and proud of it, so the stereotype didn’t bother me. The issue was that he didn’t respect my ambition and desire to better myself. Which makes my current situation even more agonising. I loved working hard and contributing to the bottom line of a company, leading and being part of a team. I have to get that back if I can.

Sitting up, I anchor myself in the now. Even if I wouldn’t want to be CEO, there’s clearly an upside – the job must really pay – because our car’s stopping on the edge of a private airstrip. The smooth concrete runway is frosted with ice and surrounded by snow-covered shrubs, grass and miles of empty space. The mega-wealthy really do live in a different world. I expected a charter flight from a regional airport, not a private jet like on Criminal Minds . This is well out of my league, but oh, what a lovely league. Undoing my seatbelt as the car stops, I try to hide my eagerness to get on the plane and look around. There’s still an excited little girl inside the corporate woman.

‘Ready?’ Alex asks, unbuckling his belt.

‘Definitely.’

He smiles and it ignites a tripwire straight to my knickers. Thankfully the driver opens the door so I scramble out the car, handbag clutched to my side.

‘Thank you.’ I nod at the driver, holding my hair back from my face in the battering wind.

‘No problem, Miss Caswell.’

Trailing after him, I shiver as he walks to the rear of the car.

As he pops open the boot lid I reach across him to grab my case but he’s too quick for me, hauling it out onto the concrete. ‘Allow me.’

Acknowledging his win with a wry smile, I watch him lift out a weekend bag, suit carrier and briefcase, before carrying everything over to the awaiting cabin crew.

Climbing from the car, Alex tucks all gadgets away in his pockets and strides over to his driver, clasping the man’s shoulder. ‘Thanks Evan, have a safe journey home and enjoy your long weekend off. Say hello to your wife for me.’

‘I certainly will, sir, on all counts. Thank you.’

‘Good. I’ll see you here on Monday evening?’

‘Yes, I’ll be here. You have a safe journey as well.’ Tipping his cap, he marches back to the car.