Page 78 of Where She Is
“Matthew?”
“Hi, Hannah. How have you been?”
“Um, all right, thank you. What brings you to darken my door?”
“Don’t be like that. I had a meeting on this floor and thought I’d call in to see how you are. I haven’t seen you for a while.”
My avoidance has been intentional. I itch to get shot of himbecause there’s something about Matthew that oozes sleaze? Maybe it’s the overly waxed hair or the three-piece camel coloured suit standing out like a sore thumb. It might even be the amount of aftershave I appear to taste in the surrounding air. Or was I desensitised from his bullshit. I’ve seen the real him, warts and all.
“I wanted to check we were okay, you know—”
“It’s forgotten. Please, Matthew. Let’s move on. It seems such a long time ago.” I’m impatient and short. I just want him to go.
“I hear you and Daniel Grant are… together?”
I bite my tongue.If I can only get through these next few minuteswithout referring to him as ‘arsehole’, I’ve done well.There’s no way I’dlet him in on my current domestic crisis, so I lie. “Yes, we are.”
“I’m delighted for you, if that’s what you want, Hannah.”
“It is.”
I turn back to my laptop and type in the hope he’ll bugger off. Instead, he taps his fingertips on my desk.
“Is there anything else, Matthew? It’s just I need to get on and—”
“Oh, it is embarrassing really. I don’t want you to look like a fool.”
I lock my lips together, raising a brow, “hmmm?” If I use actual words, they won’t be pleasant ones. Whatever he has to tell me will be unwelcome news or gossip.
“I’m certain you’ve seen it for yourself so… I wanted to make sure you were okay, you know, after the article about Daniel and his ex-girlfriend.”
My blood is on fire as it circulates around my clenched limbs, but somehow, I keep my composure. Curling my index finger, I signal for him to come closer, which he does more than eagerly. I whisper, “Fuck. Off. You. Smarmy. Little. Shit.” I wish he’d not outstayed his welcome. He pulls back, sighing brieflyand with a condescending chuckle. He stares into my eyes with such a smirk, although I give him nothing but defiance in return. I stand from my chair with crossed arms, now beyond boiling point. “Run along Matthew, there’s a good fella.” He walks towards the exit, shaking his head and smiling from ear to ear. “Fringed bitch,” he mutters and seems far too smug. I can’t let him get away with it.
“Ahem, hang on a minute Mr!”
He turns around and over-confidently says, “I’m sorry, Hannah. I thought we’d finished this conversation.”
If my cheeks aren’t red, and there isn’t steam coming out of my ears, I’d say I’m doing bloody well, but the thing is, there’s another reason I haven’t quite blown my top. I have one last ace up my sleeve and with the best sarcasm I can muster, it’s time to deliver a double helping of egg all over his pompous face.
“No. We’re not done.”
“I see,” he says, standing with tight, folded arms across his expanded chest and his legs are apart in an extra wide stance.
“I’m not sure you do, Mathew, because I’ve been checking up on you.” His chest puffs out further and the corners of his mouth drop. “I would let it go, but I saw you take so much satisfaction in the misfortune of others, I can’t. When you don’t get what you want, you are nasty. That’s what happened here and I won’t have it. You wanted in my knickers, I wouldn’t entertain the idea and funny enough, there’s a reason for that.”
“Oh, share, why don’t you.”
“Love to. Now how do I put this… bluntly, I think. There was something I didn’t like about you from the start. I couldn’t put my finger on it initially because you just irritated me. Then I found out about your scheming, backstabbing ways which repulsed me. Tell me Mathew, why would any women find that trait attractive?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he scowls.
“Well now, I had a conversation with our mutual friend a fewdays ago.” His blank expression tells me he hasn’t cottoned on. “Mr Jacobs?” I love this moment. Realisation dawns, and he’s quiet for someone who normally likes the sound of his own voice. “It seems you have no business scruples. Those deals you ‘won’ in the UK were not yours to claim.”
I’ve never seen a man lose the colour to his cheeks so quickly. His skin is almost grey.
“Apparently, you were brilliant with legalising your underhanded deals.” I smile while I pace courtroom style, “Oh, and should we mention your dirty cocaine habit?” I stop in my tracks. “No?”
He’s shocked into silence, a moment I’ve been waiting a while for. “It’s very obvious why you had to transfer out here, Matthew. You used your colleagues and made so many enemies you had no choice. Before you challenge me about my private life and, in particular, my personal relationship, I suggest you consider how you run your own affairs. Now, as per my previous request. Fuck. Off.”
