CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
‘What do you mean she’s gone? Gone where? I’ve only been away for four days,’ Marco snapped at Charlotte as he paced the floor like an expectant father.
‘I’m not sure. I think she might have resigned. The letters you sent out weren’t a hit, surprisingly,’ she added. ‘And for some reason Sapphire seems to have taken it personally.’
Betty bustled in as Charlotte finished speaking. Marco covered his face with his hands and groaned as he headed for his own office. He wasn’t sure he could cope with Betty right at that moment. She followed him in and slammed a mug of coffee down on his desk so close to his laptop that he had to shield it with his hand. ‘Careful.’
‘Careful?’ Betty echoed. ‘I should be saying that to you. How careful have you been recently?’
For a split-second Marco thought she was referring to his sex life and thoughts of Sapphire quickly filled his mind. Surely she wasn’t pregnant? He wouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised if Betty were to know such a thing before he did – before Sapphire did, even. He tried to quash his unease in case Betty might spot it and use it against him. ‘Sorry?’ He stared at Betty, taking in her flashing eyes and her lips set in a determined line. Even her grey curls bounced with indignation.
‘Sacking people left, right and centre as if you’re bloody Alan Sugar.’
‘Ah, that.’ He breathed out silent thanks. He could handle the employees, although if the comments being bandied around the corridors were anything to go by, he wouldn’t be up for a popularity prize any time soon.
He had almost forgotten about the redundancies, being too busy attending to other business needs and his impending divorce. ‘It was necessary,’ he said, before tempering his words with an exaggerated smile.
It had no impact whatsoever on Betty, who folded her arms and set her stance to fight mode. ‘And what have you done to that poor girl?’
‘Poor girl?’ The timbre of his voice wasn’t entirely steady as he felt his hopes lifting. ‘You know where Sapphire is?’
‘Depends.’
‘Depends? How can it depend on anything? You either know where she is or you don’t.’
He stopped dead in his tracks, remembering the tickets he’d meant to chase up. He stood up once more and headed back to the reception area where Charlotte sat. ‘You did put the airline ticket in the envelope for Sapphire, didn’t you?’ He directed his comment to Charlotte, Betty snapping at his heels.
‘Oh, err, no. Not yet, anyway. I started to, but the printer was playing up as usual and then I got side-tracked. Sorry, blame the baby brain – I can’t think clearly these days.’ She patted her bump, totally unaware of the chain of events she’d caused. ‘And then, Sapphire swept out in such a flurry of indignation that I wasn’t sure if she’d even need them.’
Marco slapped his forehead. ‘Damn it! Have you no idea where she’s gone?’
Charlotte shifted in her seat uncomfortably. ‘No. I just know she left with Finbar who used a lot of choice words when he returned.’
Marco groaned again and ran his fingers through his hair as he swung Charlotte’s computer around so he could check the screen. He clicked through to the email to see that the first-class airline ticket attachment was indeed still sitting there. He knew Charlotte would be telling the truth so wasn’t quite sure why he’d felt the need to double-check.
‘I couldn’t get a signal in the mountains so I haven’t even had a chance to speak to her,’ he muttered, half to himself. He hadn’t told anyone about his relationship with Sapphire, and by the look on Charlotte’s face as the cogs in her brain turned, putting two and two together, neither had Sapphire.
Charlotte’s eyes widened as she stared at Marco, but she didn’t say a word.
Betty just threw him a knowing glance. She probably knew everything there was to know about Sapphire and Marco’s liaison – gossip was what cleaners were really employed for, after all, he decided with a grim smile.
But he didn’t care about office gossip; he just wanted to find Sapphire. He cursed and headed towards the door, tapping in her phone number as he went, his irritation dissolving with the anticipation of speaking to her. But her mobile rang and rang and there was no answer. It didn’t even click into voicemail.
He thrust his phone back into his pocket, becoming seriously alarmed as he headed back into the office, unable to hide his irritation.
‘Dammit, Charlotte, that ticket made all the difference. I sent her a text telling her to clear her desk, meaning for her to find the envelope with the flight details in it. She’s now going to think I sacked her instead of intending to take her away on holiday.’
Charlotte gawped as she took in Marco’s words; he wasn’t even trying to deny they were having a relationship.
‘Mr Cavarelli, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know the tickets were that important. You never said what they were for, and I assumed it was just business.’
‘It’s okay, Charlotte. It isn’t really your fault.’ Marco felt he had to placate her, even though it was her bloody fault. He’d specifically told her to print off the ticket as soon as possible.
Betty cleared her throat and took a step nearer to Charlotte, obviously feeling some female solidarity was called for, but Marco was already one step removed from them, his focus entirely on finding Sapphire.
Why was she so damned headstrong, and how did she not understand what she meant to him – after everything they’d talked about? She really should know how fiercely loyal he was to anyone he loved. He sighed in frustration as it dawned on him that he hadn’t actually told her he loved her.
He would rectify that oversight the minute he spoke to her. He now realised he’d also underestimated her insecurities and her expectation that life would always serve her lemons. His text would have been exactly what she expected in life: disappointment and broken promises.
Finbar strolled in and Marco closed his eyes and heaved out a calming breath. He was going to have to tread carefully with Finbar if he wanted information on Scarlett. Charlotte threw him a wan smile and Betty shrugged her shoulders. They all watched wordlessly as Finbar disappeared into Marco and Sapphire’s office.
Marco followed him in, to find Finbar sitting in Sapphire’s chair, his feet up on her desk, painting his nails with purple varnish. He blew on his fingers indolently as he looked up at Marco, his eyes rimmed with charcoal eyeliner.
‘Where is Miss Montrose?’
‘Sapphire Montrose?’ Finbar gave Marco the innocent wide-eyed treatment as if he had lots of Miss Montrose’s to choose from.
Marco was never so close to punching him. He balled his hands into fists, controlling his temper by breathing in deeply and slowly. He glared at Finbar’s feet on Sapphire’s desk, wanting to knock them off it. He was really close to losing it, especially when Finbar casually looked out of the window as if he might find her loitering beneath it.
‘It appears Sapphire didn’t appreciate the way you treated her and decided to quit.’ Finbar shook his fanned-out fingers and blew on his nails once more while leisurely raising his feet off the desk and planting them on the floor, all the time holding Marco’s gaze. ‘She’s a terribly fragile person behind that tough veneer, you know.’
Marco clenched and unclenched his fists, itching to grab Finbar’s collar and shake him until his teeth rattled. ‘I know her well enough to realise that, thank you. Get me her file,’ he barked out, knowing he shouldn’t speak to a member of staff that way, but he couldn’t help himself; he was too agitated for niceties.
‘Of course.’ Finbar minced over to the filing cabinet and pulled open a drawer, lifting the file out with a flourish.
Marco knew Finbar was camping it up deliberately to infuriate him. He wished all over again that he’d included him in his list of redundancies; he’d only refrained because he knew Sapphire would have been livid with him.
‘Ooh, it’s ever so light, her file; there’s hardly anything in it.’ Finbar held it between his forefinger and thumb, shaking it slightly. Marco glared at it but didn’t take it from Finbar. He shrugged his jacket back on, having taken it off only two minutes before.
‘She’s moved out,’ Finbar said, anticipating Marco’s next move.
‘What?’
‘Her flat. She’s moved out, I believe.’
‘Why?’
‘Err, she has no income to pay for it?’ he suggested.
‘Silly girl,’ Marco muttered.
Finbar shook his hair out of his eyes, picked at a nail, and gazed out of the window as if nothing Marco Cavarelli had to say was worth taking in. ‘Do you still want her file?’ He picked it up again.
‘Will it tell me where she is?’ Marco glowered at Finbar.
‘I don’t believe so.’
‘You know where she is, don’t you?’
‘Me?’ Finbar’s eyes widened in innocence but Marco wasn’t fooled – of course he knew where she was. He narrowed his own eyes but Finbar just raised his eyebrows and shrugged. ‘Can’t help you, I’m afraid.’
‘No problem.’ Marco ran a hand across his jaw, directing all the hot coals from hell onto Finbar’s head. He sighed; this was getting him nowhere.
He sat down at his desk, trying to think straight. He supposed he hadn’t handled the situation as well as he should have, taking off to Italy without explaining himself, and he had been rather preoccupied on their last day together. Maybe she was more than a little upset with him, but she would soon phone him up and he could tell her he loved her and she would come back to him.