“No, you won’t,” chips in Guy, shaking chocolate onto a cappuccino. He looks up. “You’ll be in Hong Kong.”
“What?” I say stupidly.
“Samatron are delighted you’re back and they’ve asked for you on this merger. We’re flying to Hong Kong tomorrow. Has no one told you?”
“No,” I say, taken aback. “No one’s even mentioned it.”
Guy shrugs. “I thought you knew. Five days in Hong Kong and then on to Singapore. You and I are going to be wooing some new clients.” He takes a sip of coffee. “You need to start pulling in business, Samantha Sweeting, equity partner. Can’t rest on your laurels.”
I haven’t even started the job yet. And they’re already talking about resting on my laurels?
“So … when will we be back?”
Guy shrugs. “Couple of weeks?”
“Samantha!” says Elldridge, coming up. “Has Guy mentioned, we want you on a corporate shooting weekend in September? Up in Scotland; should be fun.”
“Right. Um, yes, that sounds great.” I rub my nose. “The only thing is, I’m trying to keep some weekends free … keep a bit of balance in my life …”
Elldridge looks puzzled.
“You’ve had your break, Samantha,” he says. “Now it’s back to work. And I must talk to you about New York.” He pats me on the shoulder and turns to the girl manning the coffee machine. “Another espresso, please.”
“Realistically, I’d say you’re not going to have a free weekend till Christmas,” puts in Guy. “I did warn you.” He raises his eyebrows meaningfully and moves away to talk to Hilary.
There’s silence. I don’t know what to say. Everything’s moving too fast. I thought it would be different this time. I thought I’d have more control.
“Christmas,” echoes Nathaniel at last, looking thunderstruck.
“No,” I say at once. “He’s exaggerating. It won’t be that bad. I’ll rearrange things.” I rub my brow. “Look, Nathaniel, I’ll be back before Christmas. I promise. Things might be busy—but I’ll do it somehow. Whatever it takes.”
He flinches at my words. “Don’t turn it into a duty.”
“Duty?” I stare at him. “That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Two minutes!” Hilary comes bustling up with the makeup artist, but I ignore her.
“Nathaniel—”
“Samantha!” snaps Hilary, trying to pull me away. “You really don’t have time for this!”
“You should go.” Nathaniel gestures with his head. “You’re busy.”
This is awful. It feels like everything is disintegrating between us.
“Nathaniel, just tell me.” My voice trembles. “Tell me before I go. That day in the farmhouse—what did you say to me?”
Nathaniel looks at me for a long moment, then something in his eyes seems to close up.
“It was long and boring and badly put.” He turns away with a half shrug.
“Please do something with those smudges!” Hilary is saying. “Could you please move?” she adds sharply to Nathaniel.
“I’ll get out of your way.” Nathaniel lets go of my hand and retreats before I can say anything.
“You’re not in my way!” I call after him, but I’m not sure he hears.
As the makeup artist begins her work, my mind is spinning so fast I feel faint. Suddenly all my certainty has vanished. Am I doing the right thing?
Oh, God. What is wrong with me?
“Close, please.” The makeup artist is brushing at my eyelids. “Now open …”
I open my eyes to see Nathaniel and Guy standing together, some way away. Guy’s talking and Nathaniel is listening, his face taut. I feel a sudden stab of unease. What’s Guy saying?
“Close again,” says the makeup artist. Reluctantly I close my eyes and feel her brushing yet more shadow on. For God’s sake. Hasn’t she finished? Does it matter what I look like?
At last she withdraws her brush. “Open.”
I open my eyes to see Guy standing in the same spot, a few yards away. But Nathaniel’s vanished. Where’s he gone?
“Put your lips together …” the makeup artist instructs, producing a lipstick brush.
My eyes are darting in panic around the crowded drive, looking for Nathaniel. I need him. I need to talk to him before this press conference goes ahead.
“Ready for your big moment? Got your statement?” Hilary is upon me again, smelling of freshly applied scent. “That looks a lot better! Chin up!” She taps my chin so sharply I wince. “Any last-minute questions?”