Salvation

To those that have graced my life and left it too soon, and to those who continue to bless me with their presence every day. This is for you.

“WISH I HAD a best friend as awesome as me.”

My good friend stood in my private office doorway. Deep chocolate brown eyes twinkled with mischief, and a huge self-satisfied smile adorned her pretty face. It was a look I often saw when Mai Harvey was interfering in my non-existent love life. I was sure it was her favourite pastime. “What have you done now?”

“Just hooked you up with a meeting on level fifteen.” Making her proud announcement, she tottered in on sky-high tangerine stilettos that added at least four inches to her five-foot frame, the skirt of her yellow fifties-style dress swishing as she moved. “You can thank me later.”

“Shouldn’t Michael attend that?”

“The sleazeball’s been called elsewhere, so I volunteered you take his place.”

Slipping off my glasses, I raised a disapproving brow. Michael Cole was the Finance Director and our inconsiderate boss. Married, mid-forties and slightly overweight, he had a roaming eye for the younger ladies.

“What,” she moaned with a flick of long poker straight hair that matched her eyes, “he’s pervy.”

“He isn’t that bad. I’ve never had any issues with him.”

“You intimidate him. He knows he doesn’t stand a chance, but thinks us less-blessed in the looks department are grateful for some attention.”

Mai was half-Hawaiian, a sensual and exotic beauty who received more than her fair share of attention. According to my father, I was the quintessential English rose—creamy skin, large green eyes and caramel blonde hair with a natural wave that gave Mai serious hair envy.

“Anyway,” she continued, hopping onto the corner of my desk and knocking over my photo,
“
level
fifteen!”

“Is that supposed to mean something?” I returned the picture to its upright position. It had been taken in the garden of the family home in Oxfordshire six years ago on the day I moved out. A moment of great sadness for my parents, but great excitement for me.

“The top floor, Kara!” Mai clapped her hands and did a little wriggle in childlike excitement. “You might see
him
!”

“Ah, Blake,” I said. She was referring to the founder and owner of RED, the leading brand management consultancy in North America, and the man we both worked for.

“Hell, yeah!” Mai swung her legs, all distant and love-struck. “You say you’ve sworn off men, but wait ‘til you see him up close.”

“He’s that good?”

“Well, I sure as hell wouldn’t kick him outta bed in a hurry.”

“Are there many you
would
?” I shot back.

“I’m a happily engaged woman,” she exclaimed, wafting her left hand in front of my face as a visual reminder. I pushed it away. Mai was engaged, but nowhere near as happy as when we first met. With an encouraging grin, she went on. “Remember that photo I showed you on the company website?”

I nodded. It had been Mai’s warped way of persuading me to apply for my job. Wavy, dark chestnut hair, immaculately groomed back off an angular face, highlighted eyes the most vivid shade of electric blue. Corporate profile photos rarely made people look good.
Except him
. He looked sinfully good—not that I ever admitted that to Mai.

I’d seen him once, albeit from the rear across the marbled lobby one morning. Every female employee unashamedly lusted after him, and judging by the heavy flirting going on between him and the main receptionist, Blake was arrogant enough to know it and not afraid to take advantage of it.

Definitely
not
someone I should waste my time on.

“If he doesn’t get you tingling between the legs you may as well turn lesbian,” Mai stated emphatically, strolling back to the door.

I rubbed my temples, trying to soothe a headache, and put my glasses back on. “What time’s the meeting?” I asked, not wishing to engage her further in this conversation.

“Two. I’ve updated your schedule with the details.” Mai was employed as Michael’s PA but insisted on keeping me organised, too. It was greatly appreciated. She accepted my weak smile of thanks and wobbled out of the office.

I pulled the relevant files off the server and created a new folder on my computer to store them all in one place. Luckily, it was a project I was familiar with. With my tablet syncing, I spun my chair to face the window.

Associate Finance Director, West Coast, USA – my job title sounded far grander than it was. RED handled some of the most recognised corporate brands across the globe. No two days were ever the same and I thrived on the variety. I could be involved in the upfront assessment of a prospective client’s brand value one day, then preparing budgets and forecasts for a Marketing campaign being implemented another.

Deciding the late July California sunlight streaming through the tinted windows was too much for my delicate head, I stood and drew the cream blind shut.

“Take these,” Mai insisted as she returned, “you look like shit.” She set two Advil and a glass of water on the desk and dropped into the visitor chair opposite.

“Well, thanks,” I retorted, finding her straight-talking as endearing as ever. “Exactly what I needed to hear before heading upstairs.”

“K, I’m kidding. Even with a hangover, you’re still gorgeous.” Ignoring her flattery, I sat down and took a tablet. “Sooo,” she began, leaning forward, “Jay was
seriously
into you last night. Lemme give him your number.”

“Do
not
give him my number.” Last night, after yoga, we’d belatedly celebrated my one month anniversary of full-time employment at the bar Mitchell—Mai’s fiancé—worked as Head Bartender. Their friend and roommate, Jason, had popped in and ended up keeping us company. Thanks to his trust fund, which covered the rental payments, he was the sole reason they could afford to live in their serviced building.

“But Jay’s cute,” Mai whined. She was insistent I needed a good lay to get me over my
drought
, but I disagreed. Meaningless sex wasn’t the answer to my problems.

“Honestly, I don’t recall much of the evening. If I were interested, I’d have taken more notice.”

With a defeated sigh, Mai muttered, “Shame. He can go
all
night long. I’ve heard him through the walls…”

I pursed my lips at her wiggling eyebrows. “I’d better prepare,” I said, checking the time. “Thanks for the Advil.”

AT a quarter to two, I made my way to the top floor. Standing in the empty lift, I fussed with my hair, wishing it wasn’t tied back in a ponytail that drew attention to my tired face.

At least I was wearing trousers. Paired with a black polka dot blouse, I was comfortable and professional, someone to be taken seriously—more appropriate for dealing with a group of businessmen than a skirt or dress.

When the metal doors opened, I stepped out into a small bright vestibule with the word
RED
sandblasted onto double glass doors. A young man with jet black hair styled into a high quiff peered up from behind the reception desk. He reached across it and the doors swung open. I was hit with the fragrance from the extravagant lily display on the glass table in front of me as I entered.

“Hey.” He pushed to his feet. “Can I help?” His smile was confident, his manner easy-going. I introduced myself and waited patiently whilst he verified my attendance on his computer. His style was slightly quirky, a pale lemon shirt, patterned tie and taupe slacks. The light shades set off his Hispanic skin and dancing brown eyes.

“This way, Miss Collins.” He stepped from behind the desk and led me to a waiting area. Jonathan Booth, Chief Finance Officer, sat engrossed in the latest edition of business news streaming from a huge wall mounted plasma television. The sound of my heels on the cherrywood floor announced my arrival.

He nodded and gave a curt, “Hello,” before going back to his programme. Thankful he wasn’t much of a talker given my delicate disposition, I sat opposite on a cream, suede sofa, with burgundy coloured soft furnishings in line with the company branding. There was so much natural light up here it renewed the dull ache in my head.

“Can I offer some refreshments?” the man from reception asked. “Tea? Coffee?”

“Espresso please, Ramón.” Jonathan rudely didn’t take his eyes from the television, but Ramón maintained his cheery manner and switched his attention to me.

“I’ll have some water, please.” I’d had enough caffeine for the day. Ramón nodded and disappeared behind the partition wall.

At the far end of the suite, open double doors framed an executive desk and revealed plush white furnishings inside…
his office.

An unwelcome wave of disappointment washed over me upon seeing it empty. Enlightened by the knowledge that maybe I wanted to see Blake more than I cared to admit, I turned back to Ramón, who was placing our drinks on the glass coffee table. I offered my thanks and took a sip of chilled water.

A flurry of activity distracted me, drawing my attention to where some people were exiting a Boardroom, their animated chatter breaking the relative quiet. I was about to turn away when I caught sight of the magnificent vision emerging last from the room…

Striding elegantly through double cherrywood doors, wearing a navy two-piece tailored to fit his lean frame in
all
the right places, a white shirt and pale blue tie finished his stylish look. Effortlessly charming both the men and ladies surrounding him, his lips pressed together as he smiled politely and shook their hands. Mid-conversation, he glanced over in my direction, and when those intensely bright eyes locked onto mine, his eyebrows rose subtly. Tilting his head to one side, his lips parted before the ghost of a smile teased the corners.

Keen to avoid his gaze, I looked away, anywhere but at him as I squirmed in my seat, embarrassed at being caught staring. I heard his associates make their goodbyes and peeked up briefly to see him address a young blonde now joining Ramón at reception. The hair at my nape prickled with anticipation, my heart rate accelerating when he started making his way over.