Well … maybe a bit.
Goodie shoved the cup onto the tray and put the tray up on the reception desk, then gave Bertie a gentle shove in the direction of the lifts. He gave the reception and catering staff a cheery wave and a couple of ‘What ho!’s, then trotted off towards the open lift doors and an impatient Nick. Goodie slipped in next to him and the doors swiftly closed. She felt the familiar panic claw at her throat, and fought it down. But with the way she was feeling, and the fact she hadn’t eaten in ten hours, this proved harder than normal. She felt for Salem, leant into him, and he licked her hand.
‘You okay, old girl?’ Bertie asked her, and she stiffened.
‘I’m fine,’ she rasped out, feeling a trickle of sweat run from her forehead down to her cheek.
‘If you don’t mind me saying, you look a bit squiffy.’
Goodie wasn’t sure what ‘a bit squiffy’ meant; she felt like shit but there was no way she was admitting that in the confines of this lift with Nick listening. Luckily she was saved by the doors opening, and was the first to step out so she could check the foyer. She was about to move to the side and let the suits pass when she felt her upper arm enclosed by a large, warm hand. She looked up at Nick and blinked to try and clear the aching feeling behind her eyes so she could focus.
* * *
‘Bloody hell,’Nick swore as he stared down at her flushed face and bloodshot eyes. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘Nothing,’ she croaked out with visible effort, before swallowing and trying to jerk her arm away from him. The half-hearted attempt made him frown. He had no doubt that if she was operating at full par he would have been shoved halfway across the building by now.
‘You’re sick,’ he said in amazement. In truth it was difficult to comprehend any illness having the guts to brave this woman’s immune system, but as he laid his hand across her forehead (much to her visible horror) and felt the burning skin beneath, he had to conclude that shewasactually ill. She dropped her eyes from his and shoved her free hand into Salem’s fur, something he noticed she did whenever she felt uncomfortable or stressed. He had long since stopped insisting that Salem stay in the car on these trips, for that very reason. Every lift they went in he could feel the tension radiating off her; it would only ease if Salem was next to her and she could lean against him in some way.
Little did Goodie know, but Nick had actually wasted a fair amount of time and even made a few threats in order to have advance permission to allow that mongrel into buildings which were otherwise always dog-free zones. But there was something almost obscene about seeing someone as powerful and in control as Goodie tense up with real fear. For some reason he couldn’t abide it and would do anything to stop it. Even if that meant he was now labelled ‘that eccentric billionaire with the dog obsession’.
‘I think,’ she rasped out, then cleared her throat, ‘I think I need to talk to Sam.’ Nick barely heard her; he was mentally going through the day and trying to remember if he’d seen Goodie eat or drink anything at all.
‘Goddamn it,’ he muttered as he dropped her arm and turned on his heel to walk back to the group of investors, who were staring at him like he was a few sandwiches short of a picnic. After a couple of curt explanations and a bit of manoeuvring on his part, he turned back to Goodie.
‘Ed, Bertie,’ Nick snapped. ‘Let’s go.’ Goodie was on her phone. He resisted the urge to touch her again, knowing how much it might annoy her and not wanting her to build up any sort of defence against what he was planning, and instead simply nodded towards the exit. She shoved her phone back in her pocket and followed them. But before they could leave the building, Sam and that Geoff bloke Katie had brought up to the house strode through the double doors and blocked their exit. Sam’s eyes zeroed in on Goodie and he frowned.
‘Geoff’ll take over now,’ he said to her, and the big man next to him stepped forward towards Nick. ‘Go home, get some rest.’
As always Sam’s tone was brusque, and his words to the point, but those last were much softer than was his norm. Nick flicked the enormous Geoff an annoyed look and stepped around him to get to Sam.
‘She’s not going anywh –’
‘She’s sick, mate,’ Sam snapped, stepping between Nick and Goodie. ‘Geoff’s going to take over. She needs to go home; she can’t work like this.’
Nick glanced over Sam’s shoulder at Goodie; she was looking worse by the minute, and arguing in the middle of a busy foyer probably wasn’t helping matters. He looked back at the three key investors he had almost convinced to come on board, and rubbed his jaw.
‘Okay, fine,’ he bit out. ‘But someone should go with her, she’s –’
‘I can look after myself,’ Goodie rasped, her eyes flashing with anger. ‘I have a fucking cold. Go to your meeting.’ With that she spun on her heel and left the building, Salem trotting along behind her.
‘Well?’ Nick asked Sam.
‘What?’
‘Well, aren’t you going to go with her, you prick?’
‘She’ll be fine, Nick,’ Sam said, his eyes losing some of their former annoyance and looking suspiciously bright with humour. ‘I promise; she can look after herself.’
‘I don’t think –’
‘Listen, big man,’ Sam cut him off, ‘we have to stay withyou. Understand? That’s the deal with this gig. We’re not here for shits and giggles, okay? Goodie can look after herself; she’s been doing it her whole life.’
Nick clenched his jaw and his hands balled into fists by his sides.
‘Um … listen, Nick, mate,’ Ed mumbled, rubbing his unshaven face and shifting uncomfortably on his ratty old Converse. (Nick’s attempts to coax Ed out of his ironic science-geek T-shirts, ill-fitting jeans and falling-apart trainers had not been successful. To be honest as soon as he started describing the science behind the idea, his stutter dissolved, genius shone through, and nobody in the room gave a fuck what he was wearing anyway.) ‘Maybe we should get going.’
‘Um … ’ Bertie put in. ‘Think old Ed might have a point, Flopsy; the natives are getting a bit restless.’
