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Molly drew a deep breath and straightened her spine. Now was not the time to dwell on such things about her boss. Particularly when he was looking at her with such…
‘I want those hours from you outside the office.’ He dropped this statement on her without a blink. ‘While we sort this out, I need you at my side for all my working time. We need to move fast and hard to get this thing sorted, one way or another. It’s not about the money. I have enough that I could give up working right now and pay you to do the same. It’s the principle of the thing. My business reputation.’
A reputation he’d formed among Brisbane’s elite. Who were very much not people Molly had ever mixed with, or expected to mix with, other than to offer cups of tea or coffee when they arrived for an appointment at the office with her boss.
She doubted most of them would even be able to recall what she looked like, but it appeared her boss was asking her to…
‘What do you mean, exactly?’ She asked the question with a kind of forlorn hope, but she knew the answer. Until now she had worked in the office, and her boss had worked in the office, but he had also worked among his peers. He needed to have a presence in that world. In his world.
His world, but not hers. Mum, Izzy and Faye might have plied her with fairy tales during her childhood, might have told her she could have the sun, the stars and the moon with sugar on top if she liked, but reality was a whole other thing.
Their lives proved it. No money to speak of. No savings for the future whatsoever. Just a really expansive attitude towards treating themselves when they felt like it, which they justified was okay because they always made sure they could pay their bills on time. And when they no longer had jobs? Had reached retirement age and didn’t have that income stream any more? What would happen then?
Molly pushed the thoughts away. She had enough to worry about at the moment!
It would be dangerous to spend extra time with Jarrod, not to mention she would be so utterly out of her depth. ‘Mollyrella’, in the glittery socialite world of money and privilege? Oh, no. Surely there was some other way? ‘If you’re suggesting I attend social outings with you, I don’t think that would be a good idea.’
‘It’s the best idea.’ He contradicted her with an implacable set to his jaw. ‘That three-pronged plan has a better chance at success with both of us working on it. Two sets of eyes and ears, a dual approach to show them the company is strong and intact, employer and employee included.’
His argument made sense. Darn him. ‘What about contacting your client base now to reassure them? Personal calls?’
‘If I do that, it directly acknowledges the rumours, and that may result in giving them further credence in their eyes.’ He shook his head. ‘I want to see people’s faces while we search for the source of the rumours, while we talk up the business in such a way that those who have concerns will be reassured. Your statistical and other information recall will help with that.’
He ate the last bite of his meal and pushed the plate away. ‘This started in social circles. That’s where it will have to be resolved. It’s as simple as that.’
‘Simple’ was not the word that came to Molly’s mind. Trapped, maybe. Trapped and outwitted and outmanoeuvred. ‘Well, it’s just—’
‘We’ll attend our first function tonight, a private art exhibition in the home and grounds of a couple I know.’ He named one of the wealthiest couples in the city. ‘You’ll come as my guest.’
‘I’ve heard of those people. They’re almost as wealthy—’ As you and your parents. ‘The function is just hours away from now. I don’t even own a suitable evening dress.’
I’m a hundred miles to not ready.
‘I didn’t realise you might not—’ He broke off, blinked as though to cover his reaction. ‘Of course, I won’t expect you to be out of pocket while you help me, Molly. I’ll reimburse any costs. That means gowns, shoes, handbags—anything you need.’
No, no. That wasn’t what she meant. Oh, how embarrassing, and how great a reminder that they came from different worlds! Who needed an evening gown to go to the movies with her family, or out for a meal at a pizza place for a treat, after all?
‘I appreciate your thoughtfulness,’ she said stiffly. ‘But actually—’
‘It’s more than appropriate for you to have access to an expense account to cover such costs while I’m asking these extra duties of you.’ His expression didn’t change, yet somehow she sensed a softening in him. As though he understood this was awkward for her.
Or pitied her. If it was that, she’d toss herself into the river.
‘My budget can stretch a little if need be.’ It couldn’t really, but her pride felt stretched thin enough already.
‘I can’t allow that.’ As though he sensed her ongoing resistance and was determined to roll right over it, he went on. ‘You can shop for a dress this afternoon. I’ll give you one of my account cards. This is simply business, Molly. I want you properly equipped to function in this new role, that’s all. For that reason, you’ll accept assistance with such purchases because they’re legitimate work-related expenses.
‘If it’s any consolation, I’m not thrilled about this turn of events.’ He grimaced. ‘I’d rather spend the weekend at my cottage by the sea, putting the finishing touches to my yacht, but nobody messes with my business and gets away with it.’
‘You-you’re almost finished building your yacht?’ He’d shown her the schematics months ago. In a rare moment she had treasured, they’d put their heads together over his desk and had got quite excited, until Molly had remembered her place and straightened. ‘Are you happy with the results?’ She snapped her teeth together before any more questions could emerge. She was avoiding the real issue, anyway.
‘The yacht is almost done and I’m looking forward to sailing it.’ As though he knew her tactics perfectly, he turned the attention back to their previous discussion. ‘You’ll also be paid overtime for the extra hours you work. Double for out-of-office hours, triple on Sundays. Don’t argue about it. The decision is made.’
‘Sundays, plural?’ She didn’t want to be out of her comfort zone too long, but his solid approach to not only resolving the current problem but also protecting against a repeat, yes, that all would take time.
Molly suppressed another updraft of panic. She would have to find a way to ease out of things after the initial strike. Surely that would be possible?
‘Whatever it takes. The art exhibition will be a start.’ He drew a breath. ‘But, realistically, only a start. Even if we are able to track down the rumourmonger immediately, there’s still damage control and shoring up to be done.’
‘How many events are we talking about? How much, ah, out of hours time I guess is what I mean? A night or two per week, or—?’
‘A full onslaught at first. There’s the art exhibition tonight, and then a charity auction tomorrow, Saturday. That won’t be quite as formal.’ He paused to think. ‘There’ll be more. I’ll need to check my calendar to see what else is happening.’
Two events; two to worry about for now. She simply wouldn’t think beyond those two until she had to. Molly drew a breath and told herself that wasn’t so bad.
She would do the job asked of her, be eyes and ears and a show of strength, and be back at her desk Monday morning in PA mode, contained and unscathed as ever.
She wouldn’t embarrass him, and she wouldn’t fall prey to other feelings about him either just because they would be seeing each other away from their desks.
See? All sorted.
Except for her unease about spending his money. And a few dozen other worries all seething away in there. ‘I can provide my own clothes for the second event. Things I already have.’
‘If you wish, but be prepared to purchase a number of evening dresses at my cost.’ He rose from the table, drew out his wallet and handed her a card from within. Even the gold colouring of the plastic looked expensive. ‘You’ll use this for purchases.’
When he lowered his head to murmur the code to operate the card, Molly stood very still and forced her mind to think of those numbers, not his closeness. She almost succeeded.
‘We’ll head back. I’ll make those key phone-calls while you shop.’ He gestured for her to precede him from the outdoor area.
They left the restaurant and began to retrace their earlier steps.
‘When I get back to the office I’ll create a spreadsheet of the names of all our clients so we can keep track of who we’ve talked to. I’ll take the PDA with me tonight.’ Molly dived into plans and strategies, workaday ones—because those were safe, normal and about the truth of their relationship, even if Jarrod’s decisions had shaken the edges of that truth for her today.
At least he hadn’t offered to help her shop. That would have been too unnerving!
CHAPTER TWO
‘ACTUALLY, the spreadsheet will require a list of clients and associates. We’ll want to track all the significant people we’ve talked to, or am I going too far with the tracking idea?’ All the significant wealthy, upper-class, socialite so-far-out-of-her-reach people. Molly’s mouth flattened.
‘That will be fine. We can sort out a list of names this afternoon.’ Jarrod touched her elbow again to guide her along the street.
The Prince led Cinderella along the streets of Brisbane so she could go and buy a pretty dress.
Cinderella stared at him through her geeky glasses, while tingles tiptoed up her arm and scurried down her spine simply because of a touch.
Molly suppressed a snort. Cinderella indeed. Her mum, Aunt Izzy and Faye might think like that, might dream pie-in-the-sky dreams with no foundation in reality. Molly knew better, and she would stick to that knowledge. Heck, just the thought of being in his world made her knees want to knock together. She should focus on that!
‘You’ll have a chance to use that latest software package and the PDA uplink.’ Jarrod had insisted she purchase the software when he’d noticed she had it circled in a catalogue. ‘That way, if you take electronic notes over the weekend, the data collation will be as streamlined as possible afterwards.’
‘Yes, it will.’ Molly fell silent.
They were a block away from the building that housed their suite of offices when a voice spoke from behind them.
‘Jarrod.’ The tone was cultured, deep and rather devoid of expression.
Her boss’s body seemed to tighten. In fact, he seemed to tighten all over—posture, expression, muscle and sinew. Prickly. Wary. Was it because of the rumours? Was this someone from his world?
Molly’s gaze sought his, but he’d already clasped her elbow. He turned her until they faced a well-dressed middle-aged couple. ‘Dad, Mum. What brings you to this part of the city?’
His parents! Molly had never met them. They didn’t come to her boss’s office. He didn’t talk about them. She had assumed he didn’t feel his personal life was any of her business.
‘You’re right to be surprised by our presence here.’ Jarrod’s mother spoke the words through chilly lips. ‘We usually delegate such tasks as shopping, but sometimes they are unavoidable.’
‘We won’t be here long. Just taking care of one essential matter,’ Jarrod’s father added.
‘I rather enjoy the shopping experience.’ Jarrod made the observation in a mild tone, but there were shutters down over his face.
For some reason Molly couldn’t help edging closer to her boss’s side.
‘We’re here on business.’ His mother made the announcement as though it meant everything. ‘We’re to be guests of the king of an island country.’
She named the country, a small but beautiful paradise Molly had only read about and seen in travel documentaries, and went on.
‘We came to collect a gift we’ve had handcrafted. The king may agree to import our Road Ten furnishings into the country. It’s necessary to impress him.’
‘Good luck with that.’ Jarrod said it amenably enough. When Molly shifted slightly at his side, he forced a smile to his face. ‘We’ve been remiss in the introductions. This is my personal assistant, Molly Taylor. Molly, my parents, Stuart and Elspeth Banning.’
‘Hello.’ Molly offered her best professional smile.
Jarrod’s father dipped his head infinitesimally. His mother didn’t even bother with that.
When his parents all but snubbed his PA, a growl came out of Jarrod’s throat before he could stop it.
He would tolerate his parents’ coldness towards him. Hell, that had been his lot since the day he’d been born. But they could be polite to Molly, and if not…
‘Perhaps I should walk on ahead, leave you to say your hellos.’ Molly’s pointy chin went up. Strands of brown hair had escaped her ponytail and blew softly against her neck and cheek in the mild, warm breeze. She chased them with her fingertips.
A girl in clunky shoes and an odd, wraparound top and A-line skirt. He hadn’t liked hearing Allonby’s offer to her. He didn’t like his parents staring through her either. ‘No need, Molly. We’re done here.’
He turned to his parents one last time. ‘You’ll excuse us. Enjoy your time out of the country.’
Before Molly could more than blink, he hustled her away. He’d wondered if his parents had heard the rumours. He might have asked, but somehow he doubted they’d have remained silent on the topic if they knew something. They’d probably been out of the country too much recently to hear anything.
If they did hear something, and dared to raise the topic with him, he would soon set them straight that his business was fine.
He and Molly reached the outside of their office building. He came to a halt. ‘Time for you to get that dress.’
‘Yes.’ She clutched her handbag in her fingers.
Was she worried she might lose the contents? Or lose his account card?
‘When I return I’ll get straight to work on the spreadsheet.’ She hurried off into the crowd.
Jarrod stepped into the building, returned to their office suite and made the obligatory phone calls. They netted exactly the results he had expected—namely none.
It galled him to feel his business was even slightly at the mercy of someone’s whispered words. The sooner he and Molly got out there amongst it to set things to rights, the happier he would be. He would talk up business, while Molly spouted facts and figures and information she stored in vast quantities in that geek-girl head of hers.
On these thoughts, Jarrod immersed himself in investment strategy. If once or twice he paused to wonder how long Molly would be, or what her dress would look like, he quickly pushed the thoughts aside.
* * *
‘I’m back.’ Molly spoke the unnecessary words in a sudden fit of nerves as she reentered her office space almost an hour after leaving Jarrod outside the building. She wished she could ask about his parents, about that chilly meeting earlier, but she doubted Jarrod would welcome any questions.
Maybe the couple warmed up when they weren’t in public. ‘I tried not to take too much time. How did the phone calls go? And has anyone else phoned for appointments or anything?’
He sat behind his desk, an array of printed reports spread before him as he clicked through various screens on his computer. At her words he got to his feet and strode towards her. ‘The phone calls went predictably. No one would reveal anything. There have been no other requests for appointments. You got all you needed?’
His gaze shifted to the bag in her hands, and Molly wished she hadn’t spoken at all. She wanted to forget about tonight until she absolutely had to face it. Maybe by then her nerves would be under control and her defences back in place, as she needed them to be.
What if the event was really swanky and she did or said something stupid—stepped on the hem of someone’s designer gown and ripped it right off, like you saw in the movies?
‘Perhaps there won’t be any more damage from the rumours, and, yes, I got a dress.’ And at a reasonable price that wouldn’t make her cringe too much to know he’d paid for it. ‘Right. Well, the first client isn’t due for fifteen minutes, and I’d best study that phone-system so it can’t spring any more surprises on either of us.’
They’d had enough of accidental eavesdropping for the day. ‘But I’ll do it quickly and then get onto the spreadsheet, unless you have other instructions for me?’ She hovered beside the desk and wished he would go back to his.
‘No other instructions for now.’ Jarrod gestured to the bag in her hand. ‘Would you like to hang up your purchase? I have spare hangers in my dressing-room closet.’
‘No!’ She tried to pull herself together. ‘I mean, no thanks. The dress looks quite crushproof, and, if it isn’t, I’ll iron it tonight.’
She didn’t want to go into the inner sanctum of Jarrod’s dressing room. That would require her to walk through his gym room and past his bathroom, which she had avoided doing for the past three years.
Her boss often came to work early, exercised and showered and dressed right here. Molly knew this from the office’s alarm time-records, and because she had glimpsed the rooms now and then when he had his rear-office door open. She didn’t want to get any closer or more knowledgeable, didn’t want to visualise him working out, or under that spray of water.
She had enough trouble to deal with! ‘I have to get moving. There’s a lot to do this afternoon. Seventy-two pages of PDF manual, the spreadsheet, your appointments, plus any other work you want me to do.’
‘And despite today’s disruptions I have investments to manage, which will result in that handing off in about—’ he glanced at the clock on the wall ‘—an hour from now, if I can have my first appointment back out the door in half that time.
‘Good work, Molly. The dress, I mean.’ He turned, walked the few paces to his office and stepped inside. ‘For the rest, I’ll find a way to make up for losing Daniels’s business. I won’t allow these rumours to win out over me.’
‘I know you won’t. I’ll get to work.’ Molly stuffed the bag into her drawer, drew a shaky breath and brought up the phone-manual file on her computer and started to read it.
The first appointment came and went. The client didn’t withdraw her business, but Jarrod’s jaw was tight when Molly made coffee and took it in to him. Appointment number two was worse. The elderly man had made up his mind before he even came through the door. He was out again five minutes later, and Molly knew they’d lost him.
Two more phone calls came in requesting urgent appointments, and they had a walk-in as well whom Jarrod saw immediately.
When the last appointment finally left for the day, Molly had five minutes to go if she wanted to catch her bus. She made her way to Jarrod’s office and stood just inside the door.
He sat strong and straight behind his desk as always. It was only because she knew him so well that she could see the tension beneath the surface.
