The Christmas Party (8 page)

She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead.

‘I’m just waiting for Bud Harman to fill me in on the final details. There’s a new international director on board too, and I need to talk to him.’

‘Who?’ She hadn’t heard anything about this either. ‘When did this happen?’

‘Last-minute, but we’ve been trying to poach him for a long time. Now we’ve got him. Everyone has their price.’

She was sure Tyler knew nothing about this either.

‘He’s supposed to be coming along tonight,’ Lance added. ‘I thought it would be a good opportunity for them to meet. I don’t want to say anything to Tyler until I know what the full deal is.’

‘Are you going to tell the rest of the staff tonight that you’re leaving?’

‘I don’t know.’ Lance sucked on his teeth to show his indecision. ‘It might put a downer on things. I’ve got such a good team at Fossil Oil. They’ve got tremendous respect for me and are so dedicated too. I think they’ll be sad to see me go and it could well spoil the party mood if I announce my imminent departure now.’

‘Well, as you think fit.’ If he delayed, at least it would give Melissa some breathing space. She needed to speak to Tyler before there were any shock announcements. And a day’s grace might not seem like much, but it would at least give her time to think and make contingency plans.

Lance didn’t need to know, but she was looking forward to this party more than she ever had before. And for all the wrong reasons. It had been more than a week since she’d last seen Tyler, when they’d spent a hurried and torrid few hours together in a hotel in Bayswater, and it felt like a lifetime. She hoped that tonight they’d manage to snatch some time alone. Tyler Benson was a fantastic lover and one she couldn’t let go of lightly. He was young, energetic, eager. His body when he held her was firm, hard. The sex was fantastic but, though she didn’t want to acknowledge it, it meant more than that. Much more. Even now, sitting next to her husband in his lavish company car, she wanted to feel the hands of his young pretender on her. If she closed her eyes, she could replay every second of their last tryst in her mind. He’d pushed her to the bed, his mouth hot on hers, kissing her with a passion that had been missing in her marriage for many a long year. She could picture him hitching her skirt, his skilful, tantalising tongue finding places that made her gasp with pleasure.

‘All right, honey?’ Lance asked.

Melissa, mouth dry, forced her eyes open and licked her lips. She was getting all hot and bothered just thinking of Tyler and there was only so much you could blame on the menopause.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Here we are,’ Lance said as Martin pulled up outside a spectacular mansion. ‘Are you ready to face the troops, honey?’

She nodded, unsure of her voice. The truth was that with every fibre of her being, she yearned for Tyler’s touch. Melissa didn’t think she’d ever truly yearned before. Now she was going to have to leave him, and the thought was unbearable.

Chapter Seven

‘Who the hell is paying for all this?’ Tyler Benson complained. ‘That’s what I’d like to know.’ He was keen to make sure he took all the credit for it, and equally keen to make sure that none of it came off his budget. ‘Look at it.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ Kirsten breathed.

It was certainly the most spectacular venue yet for the office party. Normally they’d use one of the chain hotels in the area near the London office, something perfectly functional but pretty bland. Anything else had been deemed ridiculously expensive for a staff knees-up. Clearly the budget had gone out of the window this time. Wadestone Manor was stunning, and Tyler had seen some pretty impressive places in his time. This surpassed them all.

‘It looks like a French chateau.’ Tyler gazed around. ‘This is the sort of place I’d like to live in. If only I’d been born into a banking dynasty or been the child of a publishing magnate.’

Instead, his dad had been a lowly electrician, his mum a school dinner lady. No chance of owning a chateau there. Though they had once owned a static caravan down on the coast. They’d thought that was the height of decadent luxury. His dad would have fainted if he’d still been around to see all this.

‘It does seem more lavish than the usual Christmas party,’

Kirsten noted.

‘Tonight’s supposed to be a no-expenses-spared thank-you to all the staff for relocating from London up to the wilds of Milton Keynes. Lance’s idea. There was a lot of grumbling about it at the time, but then people grumble about everything. It seems to have worked out OK.’

Lance’s personal assistant, Veronica, had co-ordinated the whole thing and whichever company she’d drafted in to pull it together had done an amazing job. Even Tyler, who was a take-it-or-leave-it kind of man when it came to Christmas, couldn’t fail to be impressed.

Every public room in this substantial stately home had been decorated with ornate Christmas trees – they were virtually the size of the ones in Trafalgar Square. God only knew what they’d cost. There was an enormous marquee on the back where dinner would be served. Someone had gone to town on that too. It was billowing with white fabric like a ship in full sail, and there were so many Christmas trees that it looked like a bloody winter wonderland or something. Afterwards there was entertainment. A casino was set up in one room and there was the obligatory band and a disco. Who knew what other delights awaited them before the evening ended.

‘It reminds me of our wedding,’ Tyler said. Kirsten had gone all out for that too.

‘I think our wedding was a little more tasteful than this,’ she said, nose wrinkled.

What a day that had been. Everyone said it was the wedding of the year. Kirsten was happy, excited. Sadly, it was probably the last time he’d seen her like that.

He looked at his wife. She was still very beautiful, no doubt. He liked having her on his arm. Heads turned when she walked into the room. Usually other men’s. He was proud of that. After all, he’d coveted her when she was on someone else’s arm. And who wouldn’t want a wife who looked like Kirsten? He’d already clocked the wives of his colleagues and they were mostly dumpy women squashed into dresses that were too tight and too young for them. Kirsten was class.

It was just a shame that he never felt as if she was on his side now. Her sideways glances at him were always disapproving, her mouth tightly pursed. She didn’t seem to know how to have fun any more. He couldn’t remember when she’d last thrown back her head and laughed out loud. In the early days, when they were first together, they’d laughed a lot. Hadn’t they? When had that all started to go wrong? Kirsten had everything she ever wanted and more. Now she’d told him that they needed to work on their relationship, and that was something that men – him at the top of the list – avoided at all costs.

‘The rest of the coaches must have arrived.’ Tyler nodded towards the main door, where the Fossil Oil staff were arriving in droves. Transport had been laid on to take them from the offices out to the Wadestone estate. It was clear that they were, even at this early stage in the proceedings, all high on festive and other kinds of spirits.

This anteroom where they were being served welcoming champagne and canapés was exquisite, full of towering marble pillars and ornate gilt mirrors.

‘Oh yes.’ Tyler took a canapé from a passing tray. ‘I can definitely see myself living somewhere like this.’ One day, when
he
was the one officially running Fossil Oil. ‘Look lively,’ he said to Kirsten. ‘Lance and Melissa are here.’

‘Deep joy,’ she muttered. ‘Is he sober?’

Tyler sighed. ‘It’s early yet. I can only hope so.’

He also wished, fervently, that the evening wouldn’t be too tricky. He was playing with fire there, that was for sure. How on earth had he got himself embroiled in an affair with Melissa Harvey? It had seemed like a good idea at the time; now he thought it might have been an uncustomary lack of judgement.

A waiter breezed past him carrying a tray of champagne and he grabbed two glasses. He passed one to Kirsten.

‘I’m driving tonight,’ she reminded him.

‘Don’t. Let’s stay over,’ he cajoled. ‘Or get a cab.’

‘I don’t know. I like to be in my own bed.’

‘Then have just one.’ He pressed the glass into her hand. ‘A little one. By the time you’ve eaten a turkey dinner, there’ll be no trace of it. It’ll loosen you up.’

‘I’m not sure if I want to be loose.’

‘We were going to have fun, dance, kick up our heels, remember?’

She smiled at him. ‘So we were.’ Without further protest she took the glass and gulped at the fizz.

He wanted Kirsten relaxed and mellow – preferably quite drunk – not on guard all night. Plus it would be nice to stayover in a hotel, make love in a four-poster bed. It had been too long since they’d done that. He snaked his arm round his wife’s waist and squeezed her tightly.

He downed his champagne in seconds. It was good stuff, and again he felt his paternal instinct towards his budget take a hit. This was
so
not coming across his desk.

Lance and Melissa were making their way through the ex uberant crowds, coming in their direction. The chairman was shaking hands and slapping backs as he came; Melissa trailed in his wake, a smile that was just short of sincere pinned on her pretty face. Tyler’s dearest hope was that Lance might, for once, stay sober for this evening – that had a snowball in hell’s chance – but he had no intention of being so himself. He was going to get through this night on a sublime mix of divine benevolence and strong drink.

Eventually, Lance and Melissa reached them.

‘Tyler, my man!’ Lance reached out and held his arm and his elbow in a vice-like grip. He shook his hand until Tyler’s fingers throbbed.

For someone who abused his body so much, Lance was a strong, fit man. He could drink everyone under the table – and had done so many times at conferences – and still be as fresh as a daisy the next morning. For a man of his age, his recuperative powers were truly astonishing.

Next to him, Melissa was embracing Kirsten. The ladies air-kissed and he heard them exchange a friendly greeting. That was all fine. Now all he had to do was make sure that he kept them as far apart as possible for the rest of the evening.

Lance turned his attention to Kirsten. She smiled warmly and kissed Lance’s booze-flushed cheek.

‘Hello, Lance, it’s lovely to see you again. You’re looking very well.’

‘That’s what I like!’ he boomed. ‘A nice bit of flattery from a pretty young thing. It makes my heart glad, even though you don’t mean a word of it.’ He winked at Kirsten.

Quickly Tyler grabbed two more glasses of champagne and handed them to Lance and Melissa. With only a moment’s hesitation, he took another one for himself.

‘Cheers,’ he said and they all clinked glasses. Melissa brushed her body against his arm and smiled at him.

This was no good for his heart. Even for him, a man who always liked to follow his impulses, hooking up with Melissa Harvey was a step too far. There was a phrase that he should have heeded about not doing doo-doo on your own doorstep. He’d remembered it far too late, but there’d been something afoot at Fossil Oil that he wasn’t party to and he didn’t like it. Tyler had always prided himself on keeping his finger on the pulse. It seemed only sensible to have an intimate informant on the inside track, and Melissa had proved very useful in converting her pillow talk with Lance into pillow talk with him. If he was honest, it was easier to have a conversation about the business with Melissa than it was with Lance. She was one sharp cookie, and anyone who went to Fossil Oil board meetings knew that nothing was ever passed until Lance had taken it home and run it by Melissa. She’d have done a better job as chairman than her husband did. That’s why initially he’d hooked up with her, but now he was in this up to his neck and didn’t know what to do.

She was a player, Melissa, and he was too. They had a lot in common. And, for a time, it had been mutually beneficial. It wasn’t just about the sex – though there was a confidence in an older woman that he admired – they also both enjoyed the cut and thrust of Fossil Oil and he could talk to her about his doubts and fears in a way that he never could with Kirsten. His wife saw Fossil as the enemy and didn’t want to hear anything about it.

Now, however, Melissa had become clingy. She demanded to see him more and more. She phoned him at inopportune moments. More than once he’d had to duck into the bathroom and run the shower while he spoke to her so that Kirsten wouldn’t hear.

There was no doubt they’d had some fun together, but now it had to end. Melissa just didn’t seem to understand that. He’d tried not returning her calls, wriggling out of her constant pleas to see him. She was older than him and much wiser: you’d think she’d know the score. He loved Kirsten, of course he did. This was something else entirely. Something very separate to his marriage.

‘Hello, Tyler,’ she said. ‘How lovely to see you.’

Her eyes held his for longer than was sensible and he hoped no one had noticed. Kirsten in particular. He and Melissa had to have a talk tonight. He wanted this to be a clean break where they remained good friends and, more importantly, she didn’t feel the need to confess all to Lance.

Lance’s PA appeared. Veronica was a competent woman as well, far too dedicated to Lance and completely impervious to Tyler’s charms. Not that he hadn’t given it a good go. Yet, whatever he did, there was no way that she’d part with any useful inside information for him.

‘Do come and have your photographs taken,’ she urged and ushered them towards an area of the reception room where a studio set of a winter wonderland had been created, with a backdrop of a snowy scene complete with twinkling stars and Christmas trees laden with fake snow. The floor was covered with fake snow an inch deep.

They were shown past the waiting junior staff and Veronica slotted them into place at the head of the queue until the photographer was ready for them.

First, Lance and Melissa stepped forward. Both grinned obligingly for the camera, staged faces that they were used to showing to the world. Then he and Kirsten joined them. Kirsten stood next to Lance while he went to Melissa’s side. Fake snow engulfed his shoes. Melissa slipped her arm around him and he felt her fingers forage beneath his dinner jacket to caress his bottom. Not good. Not good at all. He needed to stop this
now
. Before Melissa thought it could go any further. But how?