Page 14 of Bedding his Innocent Mistress

“Shoot,” she snapped, but at the other woman’s look of abject apology, she forced a smile to her face. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

Mentally, she tried to recall what she had in her desk drawer at work. She generally kept a couple of spare outfits for the rare days she remembered her gym membership and went to a spin class. A cardigan would suffice.

Her security card wasn’t working when she reached GBRTV and now she felt like she could almost cry. What a flipping day, and it wasn’t even nine o’clock.

“Problem, Ivy?”

Reg, the ancient security guard strolled over at a pace a snail would have found meandering, his broad smile making his chin whiskers wobble.

“You could say that. My card’s broken.” It’s not his fault, it’s not his fault, she told herself, fidgeting her fingers as he took the piece of crappy technology and scanned it on his computer.

“You’ll be needing a new one then,” he nodded, pulling drawers out and looking through them with a confused yet intent air. “You’ve got coffee on your front,” he added helpfully. As though she had somehow been doused in liquid and not realised. Or perhaps dressed in a dirty outfit.

“Thanks,” she nodded crisply, watching with mounting frustration as his rifling continued with the enthusiasm of a vegetarian at a steak-house. “Any chance you can just buzz me up and I’ll grab it at lunch? I’m really late for a meeting,” she explained, suppressing her impatience with real effort now.

“I wouldn’t usually,” he said, and Ivy held her breath. “But for you…” He pressed a button and the metallic barrier swept open, allowing Ivy into the building.

“You’re a star,” she waved, hurrying to the bank of lifts. With the morning Ivy was having, she expected the lifts to conspire to keep her waiting, but one pinged open as she arrived and, for a moment, she wondered if perhaps her luck was changing.

“You’re late,” Ronda chimed as she emerged on the twenty-seventh floor. “And a mess.”

“I know. Bloody tube. And yes, I know.” She grimaced. “Do you think I’ve got time to grab a change of clothes.”

“Sure. Margerite loves being interrupted.” Ronda rolled her eyes. “Spilled coffee is definitely better than blood. Get in there.”

Every curse Ivy knew fired through her head as she walked quickly through the studio offices. Cubicles were filling up, including the one she’d occupied when she’d first started working at the company. Her office was on the mezzanine overlooking the rabbit warren of computers. She flicked a gaze to it, thinking longingly of whatever clothing she could have put on that might have presented a slightly more professional air, then deciding her lateness would scupper it anyway.

The meeting had started. She could see, through the frosted glass doors, Margerite’s face as she spoke. The woman was never more at home than when addressing a crowd. Whether two or two hundred, she was a natural pontificator, always best-pleased when extolling her knowledge to a captive audience.

Ivy pushed the door inwards, mouthing, ‘sorry!’ towards Margerite as she stepped into the room.

“Ah! Good of you to join us, Ivy.”

Ivy winced. “The tube was a nightmare this morning,” she mumbled, not daring to look at her colleagues. She could feel her face flushing with heat.

“Yes, well.” Margerite’s words rang with stern disapproval. “You’ve missed the announcement so let me get you up to speed. As of last night, the network was sold. We have a new chairman. Perhaps you’ve heard of him.”

It was like a lightning bolt had slashed right through her. Because she just knew!

Before Margerite even said his name, a strange and unmistakable presentiment flooded her body. She turned to look at him and it was as if she might faint.

Because it was Rafe Santoro staring right back at her.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE SURPRISE WAS MUTUAL.

Any idea that Ivy might have known who he was and why he’d been flying back and forth to London for the past six months flew from his mind when all the colour drained from her face.

She hadn’t expected to see him again.

No, she hadn’t wanted to see him again.

It was as abundantly clear as it had been the morning she’d crept out of his apartment, without leaving a card or number.

“Ivy’s just been promoted to director of online content. She’s really got her finger on the pulse of all that stuff.”

Something in the way Margerite said it brought Ivy back to earth. She did have her finger on the pulse of online content. She was great at what she did; and what she did was one of the most important aspects of modern-day media. Digital was a department that was growing exponentially.

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