who—’
‘Hang on, who’s Damo?’
‘Oh. He’s a guy I’m kinda seeing,’ Kate replied casually.
Leonie looked at Alexa, then back at Kate, shaking her head in wonder. ‘Where do you get them from?’
‘How do you have time for them?’ added Alexa.
Leonie raised her eyebrows at this. ‘Er . . . pot, meet kettle? Where do you get time for men?’
Alexa frowned in mock offence. ‘I’ve had the same one for months. Kate gets a new one every week.’
‘Hey!’ Kate shoved her playfully. ‘Only once a fortnight. Damo works in the office above me. We were working late one night . . .’ A grin crept across her pale face. She flicked back a lock of black hair in a half-hearted attempt to look bashful.
‘Unbelievable.’ Leonie was still shaking her head, still smiling.
‘Do you nip upstairs in the middle of the night, while you’re waiting for the printer?’ asked Alexa. ‘Is that what you’re going back for tonight?’
‘Can we meet him?’ Leonie raised an eyebrow.
‘Not yet.’ Kate looked slightly ruffled. ‘It might not last.’
Alexa rolled her eyes. Kate’s relationships didn’t generally last – simply because she lost interest and moved on to the next one. Kate treated her men as she treated her projects: she worked through them quickly, always lining up the next one as each came to an end. Nobody seemed to mind when things didn’t work out – there was never any great expectation from either party and Kate never went for the overly sensitive type.
‘Anyway, Damo was saying that there’s a girl in his office who sits there and cries. I just can’t believe any woman would let herself do that. You have to have some self-respect, I mean . . . at least she could have the decency to take herself off to the ladies’.’
‘Why does she cry?’ asked Leonie.
Kate shrugged. ‘I guess she can’t handle the banter. She’s the only woman there – that’s what made me think of it.’
Alexa nodded, feeling grateful that she would never have to encounter her ball-breaker friend in the workplace. She thought back to the problem in hand. What were the Banter offices like? Would she handle the banter? This would no doubt be banter of a vicious kind – banter fuelled by an excess of testosterone and highly-sexed males. It would be a stark change from the all-female offices of Hers, where conversation rarely ventured far from the core topics of recipes, home furnishings and anti-wrinkle creams. The harshest criticism Alexa had taken from colleagues at Hers was a back-handed compliment from Deirdre a couple of months ago about the way that she dressed. Deirdre, eliciting support from the young, ditsy secretary, Annabel, had been of the firm opinion that Alexa should be bolder in her choice of clothes, displaying more of her ‘lovely young figure’ to the world. It was unlikely that conversations at Banter would be so tame.
‘This is an amazing opportunity, Lex.’
Alexa half-smiled. She could feel Leonie’s wary gaze upon her again.
‘We’re talking about one of the nation’s biggest brands.’
‘Mmm.’
‘And you have the opportunity to make it even bigger.’
‘Mmm.’
‘I bet they’re offering you an awesome day rate, right?’
‘Twenty percent on top of what I get now.’
‘See? And you’re already on mega-bucks!’
Alexa cringed, not daring to look at Leonie.
‘So.’ Kate pressed her face right up to Alexa’s and looked her in the eye. ‘Are you going to agree to take the job yet, or do I need to get a round in?’
Alexa gave a reluctant smile. ‘Go, Kate. Your lover’s waiting by the photocopiers.’
Chapter 3
Alexa rounded the corner and waited impatiently to cross the road, squinting in the half-darkness at the lone figure at the top of the marble steps. He looked like a movie star, leaning casually against the floodlit pillar, the glow illuminating his blond hair and casting shadows across his chiselled jaw.
‘Hi,’ she called breathlessly, hitching the black silk dress a little higher as she darted across the road and mounted the steps, two by two. Kate’s kitten heels were wearing holes in her ankles, but she put the pain to the back of her mind. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
Matt didn’t reply immediately. He just pulled away from the pillar and stood for a moment, appraising her heaving chest and flushed cheeks, smiling.
‘It was worth the wait,’ he said eventually, pulling her towards him and kissing her hard on the lips.
Alexa felt something inside her lurch. His suit was a perfect fit across the shoulders and the crisp, white shirt set off his tan. She looped an arm around his and stepped onto the dark red carpet.
‘I think we’re supposed to have gone through to the ballroom,’ he said, ‘but let’s grab a drink on the way.’
He led them into a giant, echoing hallway flanked by two spiral staircases. A solitary waiter stood in the corner, holding a circular tray of champagne flutes – evidently the last remaining member of a troop of serving staff. Alexa cursed her poor time management. If she had just put down her work at six-thirty, as planned, she could have arrived on time and enjoyed her allotted quota of pre-dinner bubbly. There was always just one more feature to work on, one more financial report to check.
‘Shall we?’ Matt paused by the entrance to a vacuous ballroom. It sparkled with chandeliers, expensive watches and diamond earrings. Alexa took a deep breath, glancing down at her own attire. It was probably a good thing that Kate had insisted on taking her shopping, she thought. The dress was racier than anything she would have dared to buy on her own and, out of context, the jewellery had seemed over the top – but judging by what she could see here, it was exactly right for the occasion. Cut from black imitation silk, the dress clung to her waist and hips, its neckline plunging to reveal a cleavage she usually kept hidden away.
Suddenly, Alexa found herself being whisked to the centre of the room at a disconcerting pace. She gripped Matt’s forearm, ignoring the pain in her feet and focusing on keeping her champagne glass upright. Through the blur, she spotted the reason for the urgency. On the stage at the far end of the hall, an ancient-looking man was tapping a microphone, indicating the start of a speech.
‘Ladies . . . and gentlemen!’ The shaky voice was amplified across the room. ‘May I first say how grateful I am . . .’
Alexa crept into her chair and quietly tucked herself in. On her left was a middle-aged man with a ring of greying hair around a largely bald head, who was nodding gently as though enthralled in the speech. Matt took his place on her right, next to Dickie, a friend and colleague at his law firm, Fothergills.
Alexa was nursing her ankle under the table when she caught sight of a frantic waving gesture from three seats along. It was Dickie’s girlfriend, whose name Alexa had already forgotten from the previous black tie event. Clarissa? Loretta? Alexa’s memory was hazy. Conversation had involved skiing, horses, red wine . . . but she couldn’t for the life of her recall the girl’s name.
The speech droned on. Alexa tuned in and out, her heart still recovering from the rushed entrance, her mind still working on Dickie’s girlfriend’s name. She wasn’t entirely clear on the purpose of the evening, but then, she never was. Law must have been one of the few remaining industries in which career progression was partially dependent on attendance at elaborate dinners throughout the year.
She looked around the room. In the far corner, by the speaker, an all-female string quartet sat, looking very bored. Around