Ithrowthefeatherduster across the room with more force than I mean to and cringe when it lands with a loud thwack against one of the larger crystals. ‘Yes. No. Sorry. No. Of course, you meant that.’
Feck!Feck!Feck!
Oliver shifts away from me. ‘I need to offer some sort ofproofto my board of wankers, that I’m actively co-operating with their request for me to take some time off work to focus on my mental health. They are playing theburnt outcard in the hopes that they can overrule my strategic decisions.’ He shakes his head as he stares out of the window. ‘Obviously, we wouldn’t have to go through with actual sessions. Just book me in, I’ll pay and you sign something at the end that says I’ve attended. It’s a win-win for us both. I get to keep my job. You get to keep yours.’
How embarrassing.
‘So much for honesty being one of your cornerstones. And I thought you hated your job and wanted out?’ I’m pleased to see him blush.
'I do. I did. I just… I'm not sure I can just leave like that. It's complicated. I've been there a long time.'
'Like I said, that's what life coaching is for. I can help you find the right path.'
He looks surprised. He must have a low-to-no opinion of what we do.
‘I mean, Icouldbut I’m fully booked,’ I say, backtracking.
‘Are you? I thought you had no clients yet, which is why you wanted me to pretend,’ he says, before politely waiting for me to think up a quick way out of the fib.
‘No, you’re right. I’m not actually fully booked, but I don’t think it’s a good idea because we have,’ I dare to look at him. ‘We havehistory, you know? It would be very unprofessional, not to mention very dishonest.’
Pot. Kettle. Black.
My cheeks redden even more as I get a flashback to our rolling around on the forest floor and him skilfully teasing my nipples into a frenzy. How could he have forgotten ourhistory? I was at my sensual peak, while he was caught up in a total and utter cyclone of female erotic pleasure-giving.
‘But you just said, “if Nidi has no objections” it would be okay. And besides, I hardly think a bit of fooling around constitutes grounds for turning away legitimate business. We’re all adults here.’
Fooling around?
I leap up, and he mirrors my actions. I push him out through the door into reception.
‘Thanks for being a good sport, goodbye!’ I say, hastily closing it behind me. I wait five whole minutes until I’m sure he’s gone and march over to the reception desk. I need Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen tonotbook him in should he ever try to, but she’s too busy catching up with all of her relatives, including second cousins twice removed, on the phone. I’m furious with myself.How could I think that Oliver would be asking me on a date?And fooling around? FOOLING AROUND?
My fury is temporarily interrupted by Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen. She is tutting loudly, then shouting angrily, and now she is hissing weirdly. I will never understand this language.Never. I’ve told her, no personal calls at work. So far, she has smiled, nodded and carried on as if I simply did not say it. I am stood right in front of her, catching her red-handed in the act of not working and yet she is not bothered in the slightest.
I glare at her. ‘Put that phone down!’
‘But Miss West…’
‘Now!’
I watch as she slams it back into the receiver, her eyes wide like a startled bunny rabbit.
‘How many times have I told you no personal calls?’
‘No fue personal. But Miss Weston…’
‘Don’tbut Miss Westonme, Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen!’ I squeal, just about getting to the end of her bloody name without passing out. That’s another reason Nidi should have hired someone else. Someone with a much, much shorter name.
‘Era tu hermana!’ she yells back, full of fiery Spanish cheek that takes the wind right out of my sails.
‘Oh,’ I say shocked. My sister? We have not spoken for over two weeks. Not since the day I left for Spain, in fact.
‘What did she want?’ I ask sharply. I stow the little nugget that Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen can only lie in Spanish away for now. ‘And don’t think for a second that I don’t know you were talking to your mother afterwards. My sister speaks even worse Spanish than me,’ I state triumphantly.Shite.I forgot I’m supposed to have a secure working grasp of the language.
Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen smiles insolently. ‘YoursisterAbba,’ she says with a dramatic pause. ‘As in the sister you say you NO have.’
Double shite.
