Pure Feeling

skirting the issue

Email from: Sasha Ginsberg (sginsberg@waterhousedesigns.co.uk)

To: Rachel Franklin (rachel.franklin@stylesinternational.com)

Rachel,

I need to schedule a final design brief for dressings and furniture. The outfit of the building structure will be finalised within the next 8 business days but Mr. Styles has indicated he would like it finished within the week. The contractor is happy to provide men to work through the weekend but additional contracts would need to be signed. Can you check with him about this and get back to me? The carpet layers are on standby once everything else is complete and painters will be in as soon as the building work is signed off.

Sasha Ginsberg
Senior Designer, Waterhouse Designs

Email from: Rachel Franklin (rachel.franklin@stylesinternational.com)

To: Sasha Ginsberg (sginsberg@waterhousedesigns.co.uk)

Sasha,

I've cleared part of his afternoon for you tomorrow from half three, but he's going out of town tomorrow evening so would you be able to come to SI House? If not I can take the meeting later in the week. Proceed with the contracts. As with the bathroom, Mr. Styles is happy to pay four times their usual rate. Will you have them tomorrow? Otherwise Mr. Styles won't be in town to sign them.

Rachel Franklin

Executive Assistant to the CEO, Styles International

Email from: Sasha Ginsberg (sginsberg@waterhousedesigns.co.uk)

To: Rachel Franklin (rachel.franklin@stylesinternational.com)

Rachel,

Tomorrow is fine. I'll bring the contracts.

Sasha Ginsberg
Senior Designer, Waterhouse Designs

The week and a half following the confrontation outside my house found me going to and from work and nowhere else. I was too scared to open the door for the postman early one morning and I flinched every time someone rang the doorbell. I was back to living on edge, the way I had in the years after my mother had died.

I didn't feel safe in my own skin, let alone my surroundings.

Eight o'clock Wednesday night found me securely locked up in my office waiting for Nadia to turn up and take me home. Gen was in Singapore for work and relying on Nadia was giving me plenty of late nights at the office. She was staying late as well, but I suspected it was much more enjoyable for her because she was getting naked with her boss rather than catching up on her email correspondence.

I'd pulled skirting the issue out of Gen's home nail polish collection and anticipating my boredom at the end of the day, I tucked it inside my handbag that morning. It seemed fitting given that I was avoiding everything in my life except work. I hadn't seen Harry since lunch with his sister, but I had been in his home. After burning the photos Drew sent me I'd retreated back to the land of absolute denial. Admitting there was sexual chemistry between Harry and I, fessing up about Drew's latest threats, as well as recognising that the man who murdered my mother might get released on parole were all things that had been shoved into a box marked 'deal with later'.

My fingernails were drying, and I was contemplating whether or not to take off my shoes and paint my toes too when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harry exit the lift. I rose from my chair and let my hands fall to my sides, careful not to hit my nails on anything incase they were still wet enough to smudge. I stepped out from behind my desk, my eyes following Harry as he marched through the office. He was walking with purpose, his stride long and sure, and the closer he came to entering my office, the more my body came to life. I was standing next to my desk when he came bursting in, but it wasn't until he was standing inches from my body that I realised his breathing was uneven and there was a wild, unkempt look to his hair. It looked as though he'd been tugging at it and running his fingers through it constantly. He looked restless, a flurry of motions, unable to keep his hands still.