Page 50 of The Grand Duel
Scott chuckles. “You’re showing your ass, Aldridge.”
I am.
Lissie Elton has well and truly screwed me.
Lissie is nowhere to be found when we get back to the office, which only pisses me off further. I told her I wasn’t angry, that I needed to speak to her after the meeting, and she left early?
I’m angry now.
I try working, remaining at my desk until gone seven, but when Daisy comes to me and places her head on my knee, telling me it’s time to go home, I shut down my computer and head home for the night.
I go through the motions, eating dinner and then showering. I try to work on the case some more, a way to distract myself from the fact I spent all of last night and the best part of today talking myself into telling Lissie it was me in the club, and then she left me there at the meeting.
My work does nothing to distract me, and I resort to the twenty-four-hour gym that’s close by my building instead.
I’m on mile nine, drenched in sweat, when I decide the entire situation needs to be addressed.
Tonight.
I leave the upper level of the gym and have tunnel vision as I head for the changing rooms. I don’t even peel off my T-shirt before I start digging around in my gym bag for my phone.
I pull up my work emails and type out her new address.
Miss Elton,
My apologies for the late email. Unfortunately, you left our meeting this afternoon before it was at its end. I find your approach and overall attitude under these circumstances unprofessional, and I do not appreciate your lack of communication. Had I known you needed to leave early I would have made arrangements to travel separately.
As requested earlier today, there is a matter I do need to discuss with you, and I expect you to remain present until the end of your contracted hours tomorrow so that we can address this.
Regards,
Charles Aldridge
Director
Charles Aldridge Ltd
I read over the email, my heart still a little erratic from my run.
Tossing the phone, I run my hand through my hair, huffing out a long breath.
She’s driving me crazy.
I undress and shower, taking my time in the hope it will wash away whatever this lingering, simmering, burning feeling is.
I knew working with her would be hard, but this is impossible. I can’t look at her without thinking about her in the club. Us together. Her hands on my body. Mine on hers.
And yet every time she opens her mouth, it’s like I’m seeing her for the first time.
I scrub at my face, the hot water running over my head and back. When I pull my hands away, I see my phone lit up in mybag and make a quick dash for it, wiping my hands on the towel and opening her email.
Dear Mr Aldridge,
A polite reminder that it is Lissie, not Miss Elton (as stated previously).