Page 20 of Van Cort

RIVER

Home. Safe.

I text April as soon as I dump my case in the bedroom, but I guess it’s not going to help her concern, judging by the stream of messages that’ve come through since switching it back on.

My phone starts to vibrate before I’ve even made it to the other room, and it makes me grin at my friend.

“Well, that didn’t take you long,” I scoff.

“Be satisfied that I waited and haven’t called the police.

You’ve been radio silent for far too long.

Now…” Her tone changes, and I know she’s settling in to get the details.

“Spill. I want to know what’s caused this change.

Because I thought he was this monumental jerk, not the type to surprise you and whisk you away. ”

“Oh, you got me. Because if I’m honest, I don’t know what the change was all about, but I can’t say I’m sorry.”

“Was it romantic? Was it hot?” She fires off the questions, and it makes me smile. “Because you’ve not really filled me in on all the deets of this side of the relationship. We’ve focused on the ‘he’s a jerk and you need to forget him’ side.”

“Fine. I give you that. Well, he’s good-looking. Ridiculously so, I’ve told you this. That hasn’t changed; if anything, he’s even more handsome. Although he has this quality about him, maybe it’s his ego, but he definitely thinks he’s better than a lot of the people around him.”

“That could be hot.”

“He’s very confident. And it’s a turn on. Believe me.” A giggle escapes, and I hope she isn’t going to push further. I won’t be telling her everything that happened on our trip, and nothing of my mental breakdown I had thinking I was stuck in the bathroom. It turns my stomach just thinking over it.

“So, serious?” The tone is steely, matching the question.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” My voice rises in question. Because I don’t know. That’s the big question and even Everett seemed to side-step it while still answering it.

“You sound at a loss.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to get with him. One minute, it’s like he’s the smart and successful businessman I know he is. Then, he shows me this other side to him. It’s… daring. And fun. But it makes me wonder if I can trust anything about him.”

“Do not trust this man with your heart, River!”

“Oh, I will do no such thing,” I assure her. “He’s high risk, I know this, I’ve seen it play out.” But as I say it firmly, I hope my heart is, in fact, listening. “I’m going to get an early night. It’s going to be a busy week.”

“Oh, sure is, considering you now need to work out what’s going on with you and Mr Van Cort.”

“I know.”

“And you need to find time to come and see me. Don’t get sidetracked by Mr Rich.”

“I will. I promise.” But this weekend away cost me more than I’d considered, losing money and a little of my pride at the claustrophobia meltdown. “Speak soon.”

We say goodbye, and I unpack, glad that I took the red dress. It might not have been very me, but it fit the weekend perfectly.

***

I’m the first in the office, as usual, and I run my usual programme. As I review the figures and the market, there’s a shift in how I feel, as if I’m standing at that table again, about to slide the stack of chips onto another number.

It’s so similar to what I do, yet so different.

Placing bets, or taking bets, isn’t something I’d usually consider, but there’s spontaneity and a tangible feeling to everything that happened at the weekend – Everett’s words, his actions.

Here, in my office, it’s ordered and clean.

Formal. And I can’t help but see the two different sides of both the world I work in and the relationship I’m now in.

“Ah, you’re in. Good. There’s a meeting I need your input on at ten,” Antony announces at the edge of the door to my office, pulling at the cuff of his shirt.

“Is there an agenda?” I ask, still looking at my screen. “It would be helpful to know in what capacity I’ll be needed in the meeting.”

“Are you still holding a grudge over the Taylor account. You need to let that go.” I look up.

“I’ll do no such thing. You don’t get to treat me like you did.” I stand firm against his authority.

“Don’t worry, you saw that my department won’t be handling that in the future.”

“Good. You don’t deserve it. And you should never have lied or put me in that position. You’re a—”

“I’m a what, Andie? Because I’m still your boss. Remember that.” He gives me an uncomfortable stare that has me wanting to turn away or smack him around the face. A flash of Everett and the look he gave me in the bedroom, and I steel myself from backing down. I don’t want to be here.

He drops his gaze to my chest before he turns to leave. “See you at ten,” he calls back to me.

“Asshole,” I mumble, reaching for my coffee, the caffeine needs to flow after my adrenaline spikes and then plummets at the mini-standoff. The lack of sleep from the weekend isn’t helping.

The meeting with Antony is tolerable, and I’m pleased to say that there was no throwing me under the bus this time. But having to work on a new client team with him, rather than run it myself, still aggravates me. Especially after what happened last week.

Leaving the office swiftly, I grab some lunch but go straight back to my desk rather than taking my allotted hour.

I’ll need to go for a run tonight, considering the workout this weekend was limited to the sweat I worked up with Everett.

More than satisfying, but I’d like to get back to a sense of routine as well.

As if he can hear my thoughts, my phone rings with a withheld number on the screen, prompting a grin to cover my face.

“Hello, Everett,” I say as I answer.

“Good guess.”

I smile. “I don’t get many withheld numbers on my phone. Let’s just say I was hopeful.” I stand back up to close the door to my office, not wanting anyone to overhear our conversation.

“I wanted to check in after the weekend.”

“Worried that I didn’t have a good time?” I tease.

“Oh, I’m sure you did. Despite the bathroom incident.”

I close my eyes as fresh mortification runs through me, and the shiver of panic that the door wouldn’t budge returns. “There were plenty of other parts of the trip to bring up. Let’s forget about that one.”

“You were upset.”

“I remember. Can we change the subject?” The pitch of my voice rises with hope.

“Fine. How’s your week starting out?”

“Well, the call from you is the highlight so far. My boss is being his usual self, and it looks like I’ll have the pleasure of his company on a new client project.”

“You sound less than happy about that.”

“I’ve told you he’s an asshole. That hasn’t changed.”

“Yes. I remember.”

“Anyway, what about you? Busy week?”

“The usual. A few logistical issues to resolve. There’s a rogue partner in one of my businesses that I’m going to have to deal with.”

“Sounds interesting.” And I realise I am genuinely interested in what he’s telling me. And that this might be one of the most normal conversations we’ve had. A simple phone call.

“I was hoping we could see each other this week.”

“Wow, I’m still getting over the last surprise you pulled, and you’re talking about another date.”

“You didn’t like that it was a surprise?” Although it’s a question, it feels more like he’s checking if it was his surprise, or surprises in general, I was referring to.

“Sometimes surprises can be a lot to process. But I loved the fact that you did it, perhaps because it seems so out of character for you.”

“I see. How about drinks then? Nothing involving an overnight bag this time.”

“That sounds nice, I appreciate you calling, too.”

“I meant what I said; you put the ball in my court.”

“And you’ve delivered.” My grin is annoying.

“I’ll send you the details. And don’t let your boss ruin your day.”

With that, he hangs up, but I don’t even mind the abrupt ending.

Everything seems to be different now, and maybe something in my chest relaxes that he’s not going to drop me, and I’ll never hear from him again.

Annoyingly, for the rest of the day, and even during my run, Everett’s the one filling my thoughts, and despite my better judgement, he’s certainly made an impression.

Ever since my outburst at Andre, things have shifted. And I’m caught between liking that and annoyed that it took my intervention for things to change. But the fact that he’s calling, that he’s taking me away, is seeing me more and more – shouldn’t that all mean something?

No. I’m reading too much into this. He was happy to fuck me and never speak to me again. That’s what I have to keep grasp of.

The evening passes in a blur of numbers and research for the new client team I’ll be part of. There’s a pitch and presentation in a few weeks, and I’ll be required to do a preliminary financial review and pass it off to the investment division for their take.

Maybe this is the opportunity I need to be recognised. Or the additional line on my resume that will get me in the door, even though I know it’s not my resume that failed at the last interview - that was solely down to the fact that I had morals and wouldn’t whore myself for a promotion.

The next day starts just like Monday, minus the interruption from Antony, which is a bonus.

At just before eleven, my desk phone rings, which it barely ever does. I pick up.

“Yes?”

“There’s a Mr Van Cort in reception for you. He’s insisting he has an appointment.”

“Um, yes. Yes. I mean he does. I can come and meet him.” My cheeks heat, and my eyes widen that he’s actually here. “Thank you.” I hang up and brush my skirt down, as I stand, and leave the office for the elevator.

What’s he doing? How does he even know where I work? The small smile at my lips that he’s come here is, once again, annoying. Being this happy to see him again isn’t safe for me.

He’s standing with his back to the reception, looking out onto the street beyond the two-story high glass window, and I take a moment to appreciate him. The lines of his suit are as sharp as always.

I clear my throat, and he turns to face me, a slight lift to the corner of his lip. He steps towards me, his hand offering a tall takeout coffee.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“This is a… surprise. I thought we were going to have drinks later in the week?” I think back to our conversation from yesterday.

“Perhaps I couldn’t wait. I was in the area.” Really?

I walk us through security and head towards the elevator that will take us up to my floor. “And you thought coffee would be nice?” I press the button to the sixth floor.

“It is a drink. I said drinks. If I need a reason to see you other than to see you, you might need to let me know.” His eyes lock onto mine, and my body heats at the intensity. “I also thought I could do you a favour.”

“Oh, wow. Coffee and a favour in one visit.” I try to mask the pounding of my heart. “My office is down here.” He holds his arm out for me to pass, ever the gentleman, and I lead him towards my office, but see Antony lurking near the conference suite – there’s no way we’ll be able to avoid him.

“Typical,” I murmur, as I turn to Everett, who’s already got his eyes pinned on my boss.

“Andie, I didn’t know you had a client meeting.” Antony stands in front of us, crossing his arms to prevent us from getting into the safety of my office, and is already sizing up Everett.

“Ah, it’s not quite—” I start.

“Yes, it is. I’m Everett Van Cort. Miss Anderson’s client.

” He doesn’t hold out his hand but steps forward to Antony, as if he’s sizing him up.

I’m left to watch as Antony takes in the name, the suit and the introduction as a client.

I’m not in the business development department, and I’ve never brought in my own client before.

“Well, Mr Van Cort, let me say that perhaps you might prefer your business to be handled by a more experienced team and not just a senior analyst. As the head of the analytics department, I’d be happy to sit down with you—”

“No. My business, if I choose to move any of my assets, will be under Miss Anderson’s control. She, and she alone, will handle me. Do I make myself clear?” He puts an edge of authority behind his words and Antony shrinks back. His eyes bulge and flick between me and Everett.

“Of course. She’s a great asset to Thornton’s. I’ll personally ensure she’ll prioritise your work.”

Everett stares at him, and the tension builds as he holds his gaze but doesn’t answer. I see the flex of his jaw and don’t need to know that whatever he wants to say can’t be good.

“Mr Van Cort, this way?” I smile at him as I inch myself between him and Antony and watch as his eyes dart back to mine.

He takes another long second before answering. “Lead the way, Miss Anderson.”

He follows as we head back to my office, and I gladly close the door behind him, before taking a breath.

He looks at me with murder on his face.

“Want to clue me in on what that was about?” I ask. “I mean, I’m not upset about the way you disarmed him. I don’t know whether to kiss you or throttle you, but that was intense.” I shake my head.

Why is it that just a few words from Everett and Antony behaves. Yet he’d argue and question every word from my mouth.

“You told me he was an asshole.”

“I did. And he is. But I think he’s met his match with you.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Sorry?” I frown at him.

“Well, you said he was an ass. I wanted to see you and wanted you to introduce me to your boss.”

“To make him be nice to me?” My mouth obeys and doesn’t just hang open in shock.

“Just to give you some more ammo to throw at him. You’re more than smart enough to set him up to fail.”

“Thank you. Seems like you’re back in the habit of rescuing me from badly behaving men.”

It’s his turn to chuckle as he pulls out my chair for me to sit. “Maybe. Perhaps you need to stop associating with bad men?”

“I don’t.” I protest, but then my eyes rake over him sitting there in his pristine suit.

“You do. And I’m the worst of them all. Or have you forgotten the weekend already?”

“That’s different,” my eyes bounce anywhere but at him, even checking the door’s still closed, as the heat flashes over my cheeks.