"We'll continue this conversation then." The door shut with a firm, cool click.
Over my dead body. She stared at the closed door bleakly. Definitely over my dead body. The moment had come and gone and she just wouldn't have the courage to admit the truth with no lead-in. Besides which, what if he should subsequently ask why she had been looking so wretched when he and Elda had left his office? What could she say then? That she was jealous? The thought shocked her into an immediate denial. She wasn't. Of course she wasn't. How could she be jealous of someone she didn't even like? She bit her lip hard. She might find him physically attractive but that was all, and no doubt there were hundreds of men who were just as attractive but normal human beings as well. Not blocks of ice. And he had wanted an efficient, capable secretary for a few _months. Which she was. That was all that mattered to him. She sank back in her seat despondently. So why did she feel so horribly guilty?
When Wolf returned just before two she lowered her head immediately to her work after a cursory good afternoon, her cheeks flushing scarlet, hoping he'd let the matter drop.
"I'd like a word in my office, please, Lydia."
She didn't move as he strode across the room but as he opened his door she spoke quickly, her voice steady. "If it's about what was said earlier, I'd rather not." She raised her head slowly.
He turned with his hand on the door-handle, his big body taut and straight and his eyes cold.
"What was said earlier? I wasn't aware anything was said. That is precisely--' " And I think it's best that way. I'm sorry. “A faint trace of Elda's heavy, musky perfume had come into the room with him and that, combined with the oblique sarcasm in his dark voice, strengthened her resolve.
"I see." He eyed her grimly.
"And if I think differently?"
She stared at him, faintly nonplussed.
"Well, why should you?" She gestured towards the word processor in front of her.
"My work isn't suffering and my private life is my own concern. I only work here and that's temporary--' “I’m well aware of that! “The words had been a sharp bark and his eyes glittered dangerously for one long moment before she saw him take an almost visible control on his temper.
"You do understand I can't afford your concentration to be anything less than one hundred per cent?" he asked stiffly, after a long taut moment of silence.
"Yes." She stared up at him, trying to keep calm.
"And I've already said that my work isn't suffering."
"I heard you." He glared at her as though she had just admitted to some heinous crime.
"But would you accept that you aren't the best judge of that at the moment?"
He raised his hand as she went to reply, his face autocratic.
"It is well known that a marriage breakdown causes the sort of stress that is only a little less than a bereavement. You might feel you're coping fine, but surely to talk to someone else, an independent stranger if you like, wouldn't do any harm? If only to find out exactly what you do want."
"There is no need." She called on every shred of willpower she possessed and managed a bright, dismissive smile which in the face of his dark frown was
Oscar- winning stuff.
"I've told you I'm all right and I am-- Hannah too. I've been used to coping with things on my own for some time now." That much at least was true. "The last few weeks haven't changed anything."
He opened his mouth to reply just as the telephone rang shrilly by her side, and never had she been more pleased at an interruption. She whisked it up before he could say a word, her face as blank as she could make it.
"Good afternoon. Mr. Strade's secretary speaking."
"Is he there?" The husky female voice didn't bother to identify itself but it didn't matter. Lydia would have recognised it anywhere.
"I've left my gloves in his office."
"It's Elda." She raised cool eyes to his.
"Missing gloves?" He swore, softly but vehemently, and strode into his office.
Wonderful. She sat quite still as the heavy thudding of her heart began to settle. Absolutely wonderful. No amount of money was worth this.
_The rest of the afternoon passed in comparative peace for the simple reason that Wolf didn't step out or his office once and she didn't venture in. At exactly five o'clock she slipped the cover on the word processor and left an impressive pile of finished work at the side of it. She was going home now and nothing was going to stop her. She'd had enough. He'd probably berate her on Monday because she hadn't taken the work in but she couldn't, she just couldn't. She needed at least forty- eight hours to charge up her batteries before she faced him again.