You Don't Own Me (The Russian Don 1)

I run up the stairs to the first floor and knock on the second door. The first door is the conference room and the third door is where Ellen and Ruby work. They run the TV and films rights department.

‘Come in,’ Fey calls briskly.

I turn the handle and enter Fey’s office. The same books and photo theme downstairs is carried over into Fey’s office. She is sitting at her desk looking absolutely immaculate. Every single strand of hair is in place and her makeup is flawless. Nobody really knows how old she is, but she must be in her fifties or perhaps even older if rumor is to be believed.

‘Come and sit down,’ she invites.

I take a seat and quickly tell her about my sister going missing.

‘Oh dear, you poor thing,’ she says worriedly, her intelligent grey eyes narrowing. ‘How absolutely awful.’

‘So basically,’ I add quickly. Too much empathy could undo me. ‘I need to take a week off and go home to be with my mother.’

‘Of course,’ she agrees immediately. ‘Of course, you must go home. You will go quite out of your mind with worry if you stay here.’

Her phone rings. She picks it up. ‘Yes, ask her to wait a while. I won’t be too long,’ she says into the phone.

I jump up. ‘Thank you so much. I should be off. I’m leaving this afternoon.’

She stands. ‘I hope they locate your sister fast.’

‘So do I,’ I say and feel as if I am about to burst into tears.

‘Please keep me informed. If there is anything at all I can do to help don’t hesitate to ask,’ she offers kindly.

‘I will keep you informed and thank you for offering to help.’

I stand and walk to the door. There I hesitate.

‘What is it, Dahlia?’ she asks.

‘Would it be all right if I worked from home for one month the way Elizabeth does? It might not be necessary, but if I needed to?’

She scowls. ‘You mean from your mother’s house in the States?’

‘No, I’ll be in England. I’ll come in two or three times a week to collect the manuscripts and I’ll read them at home. There’ll be no difference in my work output.’

‘Ah,’ she says softly, and I can imagine her brain trying to process why I might need to do that. I hold my breath. If she says no, I’ll have to leave my job and I really would hate that. I like this agency and my job.

‘Well,’ she says finally, ‘as long as it is just for a month. I’m rather fond of the idea of a bustling office. If everybody starts working from home, I’ll be rattling my old bones here all alone.’

‘I promise it’ll only be for a month,’ I tell her with a thankful smile.

‘All right,’ she agrees. ‘If it’s just for one month.’

‘It might not even happen, but if does it will just be for the one month.’

She smiles and I detect pity in that smile.

‘Thank you again,’ I call, and run down the stairs.

I wave at Wendy from the hallway and keep going down the stairs into the basement. None of the girls are in yet, and it is dark and cold. I switch on the lights, turn up the radiators and go to the back where my desk is. I stand for a moment looking at my work station with its view of the small walled garden, and feel a horrible sense of sadness. You’re just going away for a few days, girl.

I quickly tidy up my desk and put away the pile of unread manuscripts in my drawer and leave a note for the girls. I will miss them, their laughter, our tea breaks, and our many forays into the biscuit tin. It was how the girls solve all their problems. ‘Have a biscuit,’ they’d say with a smile. I open the tin and even the smell makes me heave. I close the tin, bade Wendy goodbye and exit the front door.

Outside the agency I call Mark. He picks up on the first ring.

‘Hey, Mark. Do you think I could see you sometime today, before lunch if at all possible? Maybe we can grab a quick coffee somewhere.’

‘I’m free now,’ he says immediately.

We agree to meet in Kensington high street Starbucks in twenty minutes as it is convenient for both of us. I am first to arrive and I take a seat at the back by the toilets where most people prefer not to sit. Mark arrives five minutes later.

‘Sorry, I’m late,’ he apologizes. ‘Horrendous traffic.’

‘It’s OK,’ I say letting my eyes rove over him. He is dressed for work in a white shirt, tie, black slacks, black shoes and a brown leather jacket.

He kisses me lightly and casually on the lips. ‘Want anything other than the usual?’ he asks.

I shake my head.