Page 118 of The Surrender

“Stalking you?”

“Yes, Gary. And if he continues, I’ll have no option but to report him.” I’m not fucking around anymore, walking on eggshells to save someone else’s feelings to my own detriment. I’m done.

With a heavy frown, Gary nods slowly. “Okay. Let me speak to the partners.”

“Thank you,” I breathe.

“No problem. Now let’s pick up where we left off on Jude Harrison.”

Don’t flinch!“Where was it left off?” I ask, peeking at my phone when it rings again. I slam my thumb down on the red icon and switch my mobile to silent.

“You didn’t want me to tell Leighton you’d met with him.”

“Oh, yes.”Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“He’s going to have to know.” Gary laughs. “As soon as a client signs, a memo gets circulated. You know that.”

I’m so relieved Leighton interrupted my impromptu meeting with Gary and stalled me telling him about my relationship or I’d feel like even more of a fool. “I know that,” I murmur. Problem is, now I have to break the news that Jude Harrison won’t be a client at all.

“So are you telling him or am I?”

“Telling who?”

Gary frowns around a half smile. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” I step into the elevator, Gary following.Get it together!“My meeting with Tilda Spector is tomorrow. My head is full.”

“You must let me know how that goes.”

“I will.”

“So . . . Leighton?”

Fuck, how the hell am I going to tell Gary that Harrison isn’t going to be a client? “I’ll let you know,” I say, smiling. Dying.

Gary gives his phone his attention, blessing me with a break and an opportunity to pull my shit together. And, luckily, he stays engrossed all the way to our floor. I dip out, calling a goodbye, and slide into my office, shutting the door. Breathing.

And coughing when I see a bunch of peonies in the middle of my desk. I creep towards them like they might leap off and attack me, my eyes scanning for the card. No card.

Lowering to my chair, I stare at them, getting angrier by the second. If I was completely heartless, I’d pluck every bloom off the stem and crush them with my bare hands.Fuck you, Jude Harrison.Except the compassion in me refuses to allow it. And that’s only because I know these flowers were Evelyn Harrison’s favourites. How screwed up is that?

I pick up the bouquet and put them on the floor behind my chair so I don’t have to look at them, answering my desk phone when it rings. “Amelia Lazenby.”

“I have Tilda Spector for you,” the receptionist says.

“Thanks.” I get my game face on and rest back in my chair as she’s put through. “Hi, Tilda,” I say, injecting a ton of enthusiasm into my voice. “Good to hear from you.”

“Amelia.”

I still in my chair as Jude’s voice washes over my skin. I don’t need to ask how he got past reception. Is there nothing Anouska won’t do for him?

“Please, just hear me out. Give me a chance.”

A chance to fuck me over again? No. That would be perfect for him, wouldn’t it? The biggest and most successful fuck-you to Nick. I slam the phone down and stand from my chair, heading for the kitchen to get a coffee, feeling all the emotions I’m fighting to keep restrainedcreeping back up my throat. My mobile vibrates in my hand. Him. I shake my head, silently begging him to leave me alone. Let me lick my wounds in private. Let me at leasttryto get over him.

Gary’s in the boardroom with Leighton when I pass, and both men look up at me. I force a smile but frown when Gary waves me in. Pushing the door open, I hang on to the handle and the doorframe.

“You two look cozy,” I say in jest, rejecting another call from Jude.