The Liberation of Alice Love(48)
Author: Abby McDonald

“What? I don’t…” Julian spluttered. “I mean, I don’t know why you’re being this way. I try to do one nice thing—”

“Without asking me, Jules. You didn’t ask. And if you had, I would have told you it was a terrible idea!” Alice knew she was exaggerating somewhat; perhaps she wouldn’t have come straight out and said it was terrible—then. Now, however, Alice was hungry, worn out, and in no mood to dance politely around his strange bouts of denial.

“You’re having a bad day,” Julian told her, annoyed. “It’s OK, we’ll talk about this some other time.”

“Jules, this has nothing to do with—”

“I’ll call later, and we’ll talk.” He cut her off. “Bye.”

Alice stared at her handset, confused. He had hung up. He had patronized her, become illogically angry, and then hung up. Wonderful. She put the phone down with a clatter, only for it to ring again.

“Alice Love? This is Thornhill Collections calling—”

This time, she was the one to slam the phone down. Giving her files a final, hungry look of disdain, Alice pulled on her still-damp cardigan and headed for the door. She would need fuel to face the rest of the afternoon, that much was clear.

A thick, toasted panini, a bag of crisps, and a delicious slice of gâteau later, Alice’s blood-sugar level may have improved, but her mood certainly hadn’t. Was it her, or had the world conspired to send the most inane, tedious paperwork to her desk that day? Staring at subclauses until the print began to blur, Alice wondered if she had time to sneak away for a dance class before returning to the breach once more. It would relax her, at least, to be Ella for an hour and worry only about footwork and her line rather than the division of residual payments. But would the momentary escape be worth the risk of—”

“Alice?” The call buzzed on her intercom, Vivienne’s voice faint but determined. “A word, please.”

Leaving her gym bag untouched in the corner, Alice descended, but not without a small flash of trepidation. It could be anything demanding her attention—a contract issue or a client query or even just Vivienne wanting company for an afternoon tea at the Ivy—but just as easily, it could be concerning Rupert, and Alice’s oh-so-helpful advice.

“Sit down with me a moment.” Vivienne’s tone was even, seated behind her long, bare desk. The drapes were half open, and perfume was thick in the air; Vivienne was draped with one of her velvet shawls, her lips painted a bright red. She gave Alice a warm smile. “How are you, darling?”

“Fine,” Alice answered carefully, perching on the edge of an elaborate antique chair. Realizing her response had been rather guarded, she amended it. “I’m done with the ITV papers. Saskia should have sent them out first thing.”

Vivienne smiled. “Wonderful. I’m glad you’re back on form, after…” She cleared her throat tactfully. “Well, it’s good to see you back together.”

Alice made an effort to return the smile, but watched closely nonetheless. She’d learned all too well these past months that a placid surface could disguise all manner of ulterior emotions. “Was there something you wanted me for?” she prompted.

“Yes, yes there was.” Vivienne gave another benign smile. “I’ve been thinking about our little conversation last month, about your move to agenting.”

Alice blinked with surprise. Of all the scenarios she’d been anticipating, this certainly hadn’t featured. She sat forward, eager. “Really? Because I’m still interested, if you’ve reconsidered at all.”

Vivienne nodded slowly, her heavy gold pendant catching the light. “I have. I’m beginning to think you might be wasted up there, with your skills.”

Alice felt her hopes rise. Suddenly, the stack of contracts awaiting her back in her office didn’t seem quite so endless; the dreary routine she’d been despairing, merely temporary…

“Yes, I can always accept when I’ve misjudged someone,” Vivienne continued, her eyes fixed on Alice. “And you had so many good ideas, particularly about Rupert.”

Alice froze.

“Mmm,” she managed. “Him, among others.”

“Don’t be modest,” Vivienne chided her. “You’ve always been so…attached to him, and that can be a wonderful asset in a client relationship. So, I’ve decided that he should be your first client, to work alongside me, of course. You can handle his day-to-day business, and I’ll sort of—what do they call it?—grandfather the account. You’ll have to keep up your regular work, of course, but I’m sure you’ll manage. What do you think?”

There was no hint of malice in Vivienne’s gaze, but Alice felt her brief, giddy good humor drift away. “That’s an interesting proposition,” she replied, snapping back to reality. She could see where this was heading, and it certainly wasn’t toward the fulfillment of Alice’s every professional ambition.

“Interesting?” Vivienne repeated the word. She narrowed her eyes a little. “Darling, I thought that this was what you wanted.”

“Of course it is.” Alice was careful to keep her expression even. “It sounds like a wonderful opportunity.”

Vivienne waited, clearly expecting more effusive delight, but Alice simply sat back and forced a smile. She hadn’t worked under this woman for years not to see when trouble loomed on the horizon, but instead of anxiety, Alice was surprised to feel herself grow angry. If Vivienne knew about Rupert, why couldn’t she just out and say it, instead of artfully constructing this cruel trap?

After a moment’s pause, Vivienne recovered. “You’re right, it would have been a wonderful opportunity.” She made a regretful face. “But when I called Rupert to discuss the idea, do you know what he told me?”

“No?”

Vivienne stared harder. “Are you sure?”

Alice gazed back, unmoved. She’d spent weeks growing accustomed to lying about everything from her name to the precise reason she needed a full, itemized summary of her account history, but still, it was a shock to find just how simple it was for her to fix a confused frown to her face and ask, “I really don’t follow. Did he not like the idea?”

Vivienne seemed thrown. “We didn’t get that far. Dear Rupert has decided to leave the agency!”

“What a shame!” Alice gasped, with suitable levels of disappointment and surprise. Inside, she was seething. Vivienne had used her agenting ambitions as what? A ploy to provoke her into some sort of guilty confession? Raise her hopes, just to make the revelation that much more of a blow? For a moment, Alice was tempted to rise up out of her seat and declare it had been her all along and that Vivienne was welcome to check her own contracts from now on. But, of course, she restrained herself.