Page 95 of Audacity

I reacted to that one with a heart but left it unanswered. There was nothing to say, really.

The only call I placed was to Camille, who reacted exactly how I knew she would and how I needed her to: with a brisk promise to enlist the immediate assistance of Seraph’s General Counsel, the inimitable Jenny Baldwin, who would quote-unquotetake that man to the cleaners and make him rue the day he crossed you.

Despite my shitty night’s sleep, I look good. I haven’t cried, which is one positive. I haven’t allowed myself to.

Tomorrow, I’ll fall apart.

Today is about survival.

Thus, my hair is sleek and my makeup perfect and my tailored black shift dress beyond reproach. I’m so refreshed, I look like I spent the evening in a spa. I’m ready to do battle, and I shall emerge victorious as long as I can keep Gabe and his baby blues at arm’s length. That man’s warm hearted saviour complex is his greatest strength and his greatest weakness, which makes itmybiggest headache right now.

I’m sitting at my desk when George appears, holding a small to-go cup that I’m hoping is a double espresso from the heavenly Italian place down the road.

‘Liquid courage.’ He places it next to this week’s beautiful floral arrangement.

‘Angel.’

‘How are you doing? I hate this for you. Though I love that you are physically embodyingI Can Do It With a Broken Heartvibes.’

That, I realise, is exactly what I’m embodying, and it makes me feel the tiniest bit better. I’m in good company with this over-functioning martyrdom I’ve adopted.

‘I’m as well as can be expected.’

‘You look fabulous. How do you look so fabulous?’

‘Under-eye patches this morning. A lot of concealer, then light-reflecting highlighter.’

He nods his approval. ‘You’ve got this, missy. Now, do we think the Angel Gabriel is going to float in here and try to save you?’

‘Absolutely. And, of course, you and I both know that what he really needs is to be saved from himself.’

‘Ain’t that the truth. Buzz me if you need me.’

I blow him a kiss and get down to work. Happily, I have a heavy workload to keep me busy. Only a week remains until I’m due to take my leave as Gabe’s EA. The plan has been that I would segue slowly into my new role, with a temporary (non-Seraph) replacement starting after that and my handing the EA work over to him or her gradually. My current plan, formed during the sleepless hours of this morning, is to hand over gradually and remotely once he or she starts. I have no intention of leaving Gabe, or Rath Mor, in the lurch.

I’m deep in a document outlining my workflows, espresso sadly long gone, when the man himself appears in the outerdoorway to our office. He most markedly hasnotbeen employing refreshing under-eye patches this morning. He looks like shit, and my heart cracks in two so violently that I swear I can almost hear a ripping sound.

Our eyes stay locked as he pushes the door shut behind him and comes to stand in front of my desk.

‘Hi, sweetheart,’ is all he can manage. His eyes rove over me, and I know he’s trying to understand how I’m really doing.

‘Hi.’

‘Can we talk?’ He jerks his head to his office, and I rise, smoothing down my dress. ‘Of course.’ I pick up my notebook.

‘You don’t need your notebook,’ he says with an exhale that sounds downright exasperated.

Fine.

I set it down on my desk and walk through to his office, perching myself on his sofa. I hope to God he goes for the armchair, but he doesn’t, of course. He plumps himself right down next to me, the weight of his stare so loaded that I can feel it in my bones. I force myself to meet his eyes.

Oh, shit. Big mistake.

‘How are you?’ He slides a warm hand over my jaw, and I employ every fibre of willpower in my body not to rub my face against it.

Finewon’t cut it here. I’m better off giving him just enough to reassure him that I’m telling the truth.

‘I’ve been better, but nobody’s dying. I’ll survive.’

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