The Importance of Being Married (13 page)

And with that, he and his flunkies left Anthony’s office.

“Marcia, see him to the door, will you?” Anthony asked. Marcia opened her mouth as if to complain, then shrugged and half jogged out of the room.

Immediately Anthony rounded on me, enveloping me in a huge bear hug. “Jarvis Private Finance. We’ve got fucking Jarvis Private Banking! Jessica Wild, you’re an asset to this company.”

“I am?” I asked breathlessly.

“Yes, you are,” Anthony said. He clapped Max on the back. “Jarvis Private Banking,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s not just blue chip. It’s royal blue chip. Think of the money! No more problems, Max. It’s going to be plain sailing from now on.”

“Let’s hope so,” Max said, picking up his papers. “A good job all around, I think.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “A brilliant job,” he said, turning back to me. “So, Jess. Handbags, eh? Inspired. Ingenious. And that whole charade at the beginning—amazing. Risky strategy, but totally worked. Kept us all guessing, didn’t she, Max?”

His eyes were twinkling at me, like we were sharing a private joke.

Max nodded. “She certainly did,” he said, but he wasn’t grinning anymore. I looked at him uncertainly, expecting a big smile, a nod of congratulations, but instead he didn’t meet my eyes. He simply walked toward the door.

Anthony, on the other hand, couldn’t stop slapping me on the back.

“Our new best executive,” he said as Marcia reappeared through the door. She looked at him, happily, then her expression blackened slightly as it dawned on her that he wasn’t talking about her. “And well done, Marcia, for suggesting that Jess do the presentation,” he continued. “That shows real insight.”

Marcia smiled weakly. “Well, yes, it does,” she said, after a slight pause. “I thought it would be a good idea. And I’m sure she’ll be of great help to me on this account.”

“You’re…I mean…you’re still leading the account?” I said, before I could stop myself.

“Well of course I am,” Marcia said. “After all, it was my pitch.”

“I thought you said Jess wrote it,” Max said, hovering in the doorway, a little smile playing on his lips.

Marcia frowned. “Well, she did, I mean she put it together, technically, but it’s still my account. Isn’t it, Anthony?”

Anthony looked at her for a moment, then turned to me. “Well,” he said thoughtfully, “if Jess wrote the pitch, it makes sense for her to take on the account, doesn’t it?”

“Really?” I stared at him in delight. God, I loved Anthony. You know, in a not-wanting-to-marry-him kind of way. Oh, what the hell, even marrying him was beginning to seem like a good idea. “Me, leading the Jarvis Private Banking account? Are you serious?”

“Of course I am,” he said immediately. “The Project Handbag account. What do you reckon, Marcia? Means you don’t have to lead a…what did you call it? A boring finance techie account?”

That was it. I was in love. Marcia stood stock-still. “Project Handbag?” She swallowed awkwardly, then forced a smile onto her face. “That’s not really finance, is it? I mean, not anymore.”

“Not once our star turn Jessica Wild got her hands on it, no!” Anthony said, grinning at Marcia. “So that’s settled then. And I know you’ll help Jess out if she needs it, right, Marcia?”

“Right! I mean, if you think it’s the right thing to do, then yes. Of course!” Marcia smiled weakly, as Anthony winked at us both.

“Nothing like great teamwork, is there?” he asked benevolently.

Marcia and I both smiled back brightly. “Teamwork,” she said. “Nothing like it.”

Chapter 8

“SO?” HELEN WAS WAITING
for me at the door when I got home that evening.

“So?” I replied nonchalantly.

“So what happened? Did you talk to him? Did he notice your hair?”

My face broke out into a huge grin. “Helen, this was the best day ever. I’m leading a
major account,
” I squealed. “I presented to Chester Rydall, who’s the chief executive of this huge private bank, and it was nearly the worst hour of my whole life, but I thought about your handbag and had all these ideas and now I’m leading the account. And Max told me I was the best account executive.”

Helen looked slightly nonplussed. “He did?”

I gave her a quick hug, and as I took off my coat I told her everything. “It was the best day ever,” I concluded happily. “And if it wasn’t for you, I never would have thought of any of it.”

“An account director,” Helen said flatly. “So, what, that’ll be more money?”

I nodded. “Lots more. At least ten thousand pounds a year more.”

“Wow. So that’ll really make a difference, then.”

“Loads,” I agreed, then frowned when Helen flicked me in the forehead.

“The same difference as four million?”

“Helen, this is real, not some crazy plan,” I said seriously. “If I make account director, I’ll be set for life.”

“Project Marriage is not some crazy plan, Jess. And if you inherit four million pounds, believe me, you’ll be more set.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Don’t be pleased for me. See if I care.”

“I am pleased,” Helen relented. “But tell me more about the coffee. Tell me more about Anthony.”

“Anthony?” I said, a little smile playing on my lips. “Well, he was the one who gave me the account. And he was great, too—I mean, he really knows how to get people excited about the company—”

“Not the pitch,” Helen said, wearily. “Tell me about you and Anthony. You know, Project Marriage?”

“Oh, right.” I blanched slightly. The whole “I love Anthony” thing seemed a bit childish now, but I figured I owed Helen something. “Well, um…”

“Yes?” Helen said impatiently.

“He bought me coffee!” I said suddenly, a note of triumph in my voice as I remembered. “And he said he liked my shoes. And my hair.”

“He did?” Helen asked excitedly. “Really?”

I nodded. “And he smiled at me a lot, too.” I looked encouragingly at Helen, who appeared mollified.

“Did anyone else notice your hair?” she demanded.

“Everyone,” I assured her. “Max didn’t recognize me. And Marcia wanted to know who my hairdresser was.”

“You didn’t tell her, did you?” she asked accusingly. “Pedro’s my secret.”

“I told her you did it.”

“Me?” She was smiling now. “And she believed you?”

“I think she might be giving you a call sometime.”

“Good. She’s competition. I’ll give her a crop.”

“See?” I moved closer to Helen and leaned back on the counter next to her. “It’s been a good day. A really good day.”

“Fine,” she said with a sigh. “But you have to focus, Jess. This is not about work, this is about Anthony Milton falling madly in love with you.”

“Sure, I know.” I pulled out two mugs and put tea bags in them. “But the better I do at work, the better Anthony will like me. You know, he was so excited about my presentation, whereas Max didn’t say anything about it,” I said casually, as I boiled the kettle. “He didn’t even smile once.”

“No?” Helen asked. “So what? Why do you care what Max thinks?”

“I don’t,” I said quickly. “I don’t care.”

“Good. Because you have to stay focused on Anthony here.”

“Sure, I know that,” I said just as the phone rang. Helen immediately swooped on it.

“Hello? Oh, yes. Just one moment.”

She handed it to me, pulling a face as she did so, and I pressed the receiver to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Milton? It’s Robert Taylor here. Of Taylor and Rudd.”

“Mr. Taylor.” Immediately I reddened. “Hi. How are you?”

“It’s about the funeral, Mrs. Milton…I mean, Ms. Wild. It’s on Wednesday afternoon—er, tomorrow—at three
PM
. I do hope that’s convenient.”

“Oh, the funeral,” I said, reddening even more. “Tomorrow? Yes, of course.”

“I’m so pleased. It’s at All Saints Church, in South Kensington. Do you know it?”

“Yes. Yes, I think so.”

“And perhaps if there’s time afterward, we might discuss the paperwork? Around Grace’s will?”

I swallowed nervously. “Right. Um, yes. I mean, I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to stay—work commitments, you know. But let’s see, shall we?”

“Indeed,” said Mr. Taylor. “Let’s.”

I put down the phone and returned to the counter.

“Shit. That was him, wasn’t it? The lawyer,” Helen asked worriedly. “I knew it was as soon as I heard his voice. I should have said you were out.”

“It’s okay. He just wanted to tell me that Grace’s funeral is tomorrow,” I said quietly.

Helen nodded sadly. “Oh, right.”

I bit my lip. “He was also hoping we might go through some paperwork.”

“You can’t!” she said quickly. “You can’t go. You’ll have to think of an excuse.”

“I have to go,” I said crossly, folding my arms. I felt tawdry, all of a sudden, planning Project Marriage with Helen when poor Grace wasn’t even buried yet. “Some things are more important than money.”

“But you’ll have to leave early,” Helen continued. “I mean, you have to get out of signing anything.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want to talk about it now,” I said, turning on the television. “Don’t worry about Mr. Taylor. I’ll think of something.”

Chapter 9

PROJECT: MARRIAGE DAY 4