I Owe You One (Page 35)

But there are lights on. A few, at least.

My heart pumping, I press the buzzer and someone—not sure who—lets me in. I rise up in the lift and emerge, all ready to say, “I’d like to see the CEO, please,” in my most cutting tones—but he’s there. It’s him. Seb. He’s waiting for the lift, looking fairly astonished to see me.

“It’s you,” he says. “I thought—”

“Hi,” I say curtly. “I wanted to see you. If that’s convenient?”

There’s a short silence. Seb’s pleasant gaze doesn’t waver, but I can sense his brain is working.

“Sure,” he says at last. “Come on in.”

As I follow him to his office, I notice he’s looking slightly rumpled, as though he’s spent too long at work, and his brown frondy hair is askew.

I fight an urge to put it straight. That would not be appropriate. Anyway, I need to focus. I need to come in fighting.

His office is warm and inviting, just like it was before. The coffee-cup sleeve is still on his desk, I notice, and I feel a pang of indignation. Some favor. Some favor that was.

“So,” he says as we sit down, and from his wary tone I sense he knows exactly why I’m here. It seems only about five minutes ago that I was here with Ryan, feeling so joyful that everything was working out. The memory fuels my rage, and I take a deep breath.

“I simply wanted to say,” I begin in my most castigating tones, “that I think when you enter into an agreement with someone you should do it in good faith. That’s all. You should have honest intentions.”

“I agree,” says Seb after a pause.

“Oh, you agree,” I say sarcastically.

I know sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but I’ve never actually known what that means, and I don’t care. Low is fine. Low is good.

“Yes,” says Seb steadily. “I agree.”

“Well, I don’t,” I shoot back—then instantly realize that’s wrong. It’s his fault. He’s flustering me. “I mean, I do,” I amend. “I do agree. But that’s not how you’ve treated Ryan. It’s a travesty! Just because he’s a man of the world, you can’t cope with him? Just because he has ambition and vision and knowledge in areas you don’t? Were you so threatened you couldn’t find a way to make it work? Or is he right and you never intended to keep him on at all?”

As I break off, I’m breathing hard. I’m expecting Seb to spring to some feeble defense, but he’s staring at me as though I’m talking gibberish.

“What?” he says at last.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” I say, incensed. “I heard all about it! I know you blocked Ryan from coming to meetings. I know the staff were asking his advice. I know he could see all the flaws in your company. He’s got charisma and experience and you couldn’t cope! So you get rid of him!”

“Oh my God,” says Seb. “Oh my God.” He gets up, running his hands through his hair, walks to the window, and gives a weird laugh. “OK, where do I start? Do you know the disruption that Ryan Chalker has caused to this company? Do you know how obtuse, how stupid … how inane he is? If I had to hear one more anecdote about some tech guy in a pool in L.A.… I was going to go bonkers!” He wheels round, his face animated. “I didn’t ban him from meetings—the staff did! They petitioned me! He wouldn’t bloody shut up!”

“Maybe you didn’t listen properly!” I say defensively. “He has massive experience—”

“In what?” says Seb incredulously. “Eating lunch at Nobu? Because that’s all he ever talked about.”

“OK,” I say tightly. “Well, you were clearly never going to give him a chance. He was right. You never even tried to make it work.”

“I didn’t try?” Seb sounds outraged. “Here’s what I did. I gave him a mentor. I gave him advice. I sent him on training days. I discussed financial exams with him. And what does he do? Mock our ethos. Derail every meeting he goes to. Name-drop us all to death, fail to complete a single one of the assignments I actually gave him … and start sleeping with not one but two members of my staff! Not one, but two!” He clutches his hair. “It’s been turmoil here! One found out about the other; we’ve had tears at meetings—” He stops and peers at me. “Wait. You’ve gone very pale. Are you OK?”

I’m staring back at him, my head thudding. Did he just say—

He didn’t— He couldn’t have—

“Wh-what do you mean?” I say at last. “Sleeping with who? Who do you mean?”

“I don’t think it’s relevant who they were,” says Seb, eyeing me curiously. “I’ve been too indiscreet already.”

“I don’t believe you.” My voice shakes. “I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t believe me? Why on earth wouldn’t you—” Seb sounds incredulous—then his face suddenly changes. “Oh strewth. Are you and Ryan … You’re not—” He breaks off, looking agonized. “He said he was single. He told the whole office he was a single guy. I would never have … I’m sorry. That was …”

He stops again, as though he doesn’t know how to finish, and there’s silence.

My eyes are hot. My gaze is flitting around the office. I can’t look at him. I’m thinking: He’s lying. He’s lying.

But I’m also thinking: Why would he lie? Why would he lie?

I’m remembering all the times Ryan was “too tired” for sex. And how understanding I was. How I made him lamb hot pot and rubbed his back and thought, Give it time.

Have I been the biggest, stupidest fool in the world? Did I want the famous Ryan Chalker so badly, I blinded myself to the facts?

“Can I just ask a question?” I manage at last. “Do your staff play pool together three times a week?”

“Three times a week?” Seb seems taken aback. “No! Not that I know of. Maybe once a month. Why?”

“No reason.” I swallow hard. I’m trying to stay composed, even as everything comes crashing down inside me. Ryan wasn’t playing pool. He was with other women. Maybe that Erica he kept talking about. He never wanted to be cozy and intimate and domesticated. I was a free meal and a back rub twice a week.

At last, Seb moves forward a step. I shoot a glance at him and see a troubled, earnest gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But that man is … He’s not good. In my opinion. How long have you known him?”

“All my life,” I retort roughly. “Since I was ten.”

“Ah.” His face crinkles in an expression I can’t read.

“We were only in a casual thing,” I say quickly. “It was no big deal. So.”

But it’s far too little, far too late. I can tell from Seb’s face that he knows I’m devastated. His woodland eyes are alive with sympathy. His brow is furrowed with pity for me. I can’t stand it.

“Anyway. Clearly Ryan and you didn’t work out professionally. Which is a shame. Thank you for explaining it all to me.” I gather my coat and bag with trembling hands.

“Fixie, I’m so sorry.” Seb is watching me. “I didn’t mean— I had no idea—”

“Of course not!” My voice is shrill. “And that’s not why—I simply wanted to find out what had gone wrong professionally with you and Ryan. I was simply interested. You did me a favor, and it went wrong so—” I break off as a new thought hits me. “You did me a favor,” I repeat more slowly. “You hired Ryan. And your company suffered as a result. So now I owe you one.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Seb with a short laugh. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I do.”

“You don’t! Fixie, we’re even.”

I can sense his eyes trying to meet mine, his smile trying to lighten things, but I can’t be lightened. I’m heavy and sad and there are tears gathering behind my eyes.

I grab the coffee sleeve, not meeting his eye, and take a pen from his desk. Underneath the Paid I wrote before, I scribble some new words:

I owe you one and I’ll never be able to pay you back. So. Sorry about that.

I sign it, then drop the pen down.

“Bye,” I say, and I turn and go. I can hear Seb saying something else, calling something, but I don’t stop to listen. I need to leave.

—

By the time I get back to Acton, I feel exhausted. I’ve tried out every phrase in my head, every accusation. I feel as though I’ve had about six rows with Ryan already.

I’m already mentally batting away the patronizing response that I know will come my way. He’ll try to look all surprised, like I’m being possessive and unreasonable. He’ll say, “Fixie, I said we shouldn’t rush things, remember?” The thought makes my heart pump with outrage. Not rushing things is not the same as sleeping with two other women on the side. It is not.

When I think how I believed his version of everything, how I rationalized everything he said and did, I feel warm with stupidity. But he was so convincing.