Page 78 of Third Time’s a Charm

I deliberate for a moment. She’s understandably, justifiably, furious. I don’t want to say anything to make it worse. But I need to cut through the potential brush-off.

“Because if you do, there’s a chance we—”

“We?” she interrupts, tone sharp.

“You. I mean you. There’s a chance you can get Tate to give the rights to you and get this idea off the ground. I meant it when I said I thought it was brilliant. It is. But you need to act fast, Louise. Please. Fifteen minutes, that’s all I ask.”

There’s a loaded silence on the end of the line. I can almost hear her thinking this through. Weighing the pros and cons.

I wait her out, silently begging her to agree.

Eventually, she huffs out a loud sigh.

“Alright. Meet me at my apartment in an hour. And you’d better make it good, Jasper. Because right now, I can’t imagine how anything you might say will fix this.”

My chest loosens with relief.

“It’s good. I promise. I’ll see you in an hour.” A tiny flicker of hope ignites in my heart for the first time since Louise overheard half a conversation and burst into my office.

According to the internet, it’ll take me twenty-five minutes to get to Louise’s place by taxi at this time of night, so I jump in a quick shower and change into fresh jeans. I discard three shirts—one of which is the one she admired because it matches my eyes, which might be a bit provocative—and settle on a white T-shirt under a lightweight V-neck cashmere jumper that I didn’t take on our road trip.

Then I throw my new laptop into its sleeve along with a USB containing what I hope Louise and I—together—will show Ben Carter, and take the lift down to the street. It’s quiet and I have to walk to the end of the block to find a taxi, but even that little bit of exercise helps settle my anxiety.

Louise must have been watching for me because the door buzzes open without me even ringing the bell.

She’s standing in the open doorway of her apartment when I emerge from the stairwell, a tall blond guy with a face like thunder behind her.

I don’t know how she manages to look beautiful and at the same time spectacularly awful. Her hair is awry, her eyes red and puffy, her cheeks unusually pale.

The urge to hold her, comfort her, is almost overwhelming. My arms lift of their own accord before I realise how inappropriate it would be and drop them to my sides. If her expression is anything to go by, all a hug is likely to get me is a knee in the balls.

I look questioningly at the guy behind her, jealousy stirring in the pit of my stomach. She notices the direction of my gaze. Maybe my expression.

“This is my friend Ant.” I remember who he is. She mentioned him and his wife, Lil, often during our trip. My eyes drop to his left hand, and sure enough, there’s a chunky, still-shiny ring on his wedding finger. He nods, but says nothing.

“You have fifteen minutes.” Her lush pink lips pull into an angry pout, making her look about eighteen. And adorable. She steps back from the door, allowing me to enter. “And you’d better not be wasting my time because I have job vacancy sites to search.”

Ouch.

We settle on sofas at right angles to one another, Ant beside her, arms crossed. The room is exactly how I would have imagined Louise’s apartment. Colourful artwork covers the walls. Bookcases are stuffed to bursting with well-loved books and an eclectic collection of colourful ornaments and framed photos.

The sofas are plush and comfortable, and after the couple of days I’ve just had, the temptation to lie down and sleep is strong, but that will only get me kicked out in short order.

Most appealing of all, it smells of her. I take a deep breath of it, holding her scent in my lungs like I wish I could hold her in my arms.

“Fourteen minutes.” It’s a wonder she’s not tapping her foot. It hasn’t escaped my notice that she didn’t even offer me a glass of water, let alone a cup of coffee.

I swallow my nerves. Mea culpa time.

“I admit, I was sent here to shut the Australian operation down. The deal was, if I could get it done quickly and quietly, I’d be given the European operation to run.”

Louise looks like she might interrupt but subsides as I continue.

“At the time, it didn’t seem unreasonable. The figures, as you pointed out yourself, weren’t good. It was all such a rush; I didn’t get the chance to question why, or why Tate was desperate to get it taken care of so quickly. But now I know.”

I open up my laptop and turn it for Louise and Ant to read the documents I have on screen. John Mackelden’s HR file. It doesn’t take long for Louise to turn away from the screen. Not that I can blame her. It’s unpleasant reading to say the least.

“Fucking predator,” mutters Ant.