Page 2 of The Girlfriend Clause
“Haven’t you got an early start in the morning?” I held up a hand to James as he reached for the bottle to fill Eliza’s glass.
“Yes, Mum.” She rolled her eyes in a way that implied I was both boring and not worth the effort of a full-blown facial expression. “Haven’t you got work?”
I grabbed the remote and turned up the volume. Even Eliza put down her law book and paid attention.
“One of the UK’s fastest growing pharmaceutical firms, Novexia Pharmaceuticals, may soon have a new owner,” began Amara Patel, the newscaster. James and I looked at each other, his face part excitement, part grimace. Exactly how I felt. Somehow, our employer being on the news made it all seem more real.
Amara continued.
“The London-based company, best known for its work in emergency and trauma medicine, is reportedly in advanced talks to be acquired, though no buyer has yet been identified. Novexia’s portfolio includes the widely used pain medication Traumex, the rapid-acting hemostatic agent ClotRx, and several other emergency drugs, such as Cardionex for shock prevention, and Respirex, a respiratory stimulant used in opioid overdose cases.”
Hearing the names of our flagship products enunciated with the authority of a BBC anchor triggered a conflicted sense of pride, and we knocked our glasses together again, our eyes still fixed on the screen.
“Go Traumex,” James said, as if hypnotized. But Amara wasn’t done.
“The potential sale comes at a time when the company has drawn scrutiny for its pricing practices, particularly aroundTraumex, which remains one of the highest-margin emergency drugs in the UK market. Analysts say a sale could signal either a change in leadership direction or pressure to realign with shifting global attitudes around drug affordability and access.”
“Go capitalist exploitation of trauma victims,” I said, raising a brow at James, who shot me a look and put a finger to his lips to shush me.
“The universe is but an animal. It grazes on the ordinary,” said Eliza sagely, her eyes back on her books.
“As are you, and you owe me five quid for the pizza,” I replied. She ignored me, as I knew she would.
“Nietzsche?” asked James.
“Close,” replied Eliza. “Why don’t you ask Google? It’s free.”
I turned back to Amara Patel.
“Novexia has declined to comment, issuing only a brief statement saying it is ‘reviewing strategic options to support long-term growth.’ While the identity of the prospective buyer remains unknown, sources suggest discussions have been ongoing for several months. We’ll continue to follow this developing story and bring you updates as they come in. Now, turning to Westminster, where a new report into NHS emergency funding is sparking debate…”
“Well, that’s it then.” I looked at James. “It’s definitely happening.”
“Seems that way.” James threw the remains of his wine down his throat. “Explains the significance of my dream.”
“Your dream?” I replied warily.
“It was about the all-company meeting tomorrow,” said James. “I’ve been sleeping with amethyst under my pillow, did I not say?”
“Very medical of you,” I said. “I’ve always thought it wasstrange you didn’t need a science qualification to work for a pharmaceutical.”
“Only if you’re gorgeous, darling.” He winked. “Anyway, I work in HR, and they don’t care. Now, the meeting tomorrow, at nine. Don’t tell me you forgot?”
“Nope.” I pushed aside a pile of romance novels on the coffee table and put my glass down. James was filling it up before I had a chance to stop him. “Believe it or not, I’ve preselected my work outfit. Everything’s washed, pressed, and ready to go.”
I could be organized when I had to be, but only out of necessity. If something wasn’t in my calendar, it wouldn’t happen. Especially given all I did to look after Eliza, too.
It was tragic. I mean, I was twenty-six, and I owned a label maker.
“Ooh, don’t forget you can use Saskia’s parking pass tomorrow,” James said. “In the public car park next door. She left for Bali yesterday. That’ll save you fifteen minutes. I’ve got it here somewhere.” He dug in his backpack looking for it.
“Who’s Saskia?” asked Eliza, yawning.
“Works at the design agency next to Novexia,” I said. Technically, I wasn’t supposed to use it, but James called itstrategic asset sharing. And Saskia didn’t mind. Even if the parking attendant might.
James threw the pass at me, and I stuffed it into my bag. “Lifesaver, thanks, James. But Gerald’s email never mentioned what the meeting was for. Please say your dream can enlighten us?”
“Well, clearly, it’s to announce the sale. Why else would he be in such a flap about having everyone on-site and on their best behavior for a two-hour meeting? Especially nowthat this has been leaked to the Beeb.” He gesticulated loftily toward the TV.
