Bound by Their Love (10 page)

Jeff pulled her into his embrace and she rested her head on his chest. His fingers stroked lazily down her arm. The touch mesmerised her, lulling her to relax against him. She closed her eyes and let herself enjoy this last touch and embrace.

Within minutes, the car pulled out the front of her building.

‘Well, here we are,' she said brightly. ‘Thanks for seeing me home.'

‘I'll walk you in.'

Greta didn't want him to do that. It was only prolonging the pain. ‘Please don't.'

‘Why?'

Conscious of the driver sitting patiently, she didn't want their conversation overheard.

She reached out and laid her hand on his cheek. ‘It's for the best if we say goodbye here.'

Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss on his lips. ‘It's been fun.'

Greta wrenched the door handle open and got out, not giving Jeff a chance to say anything. If she did she'd give in and continue to have a fling with him.

As she made her way to the entrance of her building she wondered if she was walking away from the only man who would make her happy.

She looked over her shoulder. The door to the car was still open and her eyes locked with Jeff's. Greta lifted her hand in a small wave, wishing things could've been totally different.

Chapter 11

Greta lifted the glass of water and took a small sip. She'd thought her upset stomach would've settled down by now. Her presentation had been two days ago and she still felt queasy.

She'd arrived at work after her night with Jeff to find out her father and Graham had rushed off to do damage control for a mining company who had suffered a serious workplace accident.

Now her father was back in the office and she was waiting, or more correctly, wondering if he'd bother to come and see her. She wasn't holding her breath.

Her mobile phone buzzed with an incoming text message. Sighing, she picked it up.

Hey, I'm leaving tonight. Drinks 6 pm at Palazzo bar? J

She stared at the message for endless seconds. She'd expected to hear from Jeff yesterday. Every time her office phone had buzzed she'd jumped out of her skin, picking the receiver up with part trepidation, part excitement. She'd never heard his voice over the phone. She had no trouble imagining it would have that sexy just-woken-up sound to it.

Her body vibrated with desire at the thought of hearing his voice again. His hands touching her body again.

Her heart wanted her to respond,
yes.
Her mind was telling her
no
. It would be a huge mistake to meet Jeff again. She knew it wouldn't just be drinks. It would end up being much, much more. For the sake of her sanity and her career, she needed to be strong.

She typed her reply.

Sorry I can't. I need to work late.

It was a lame excuse but at least it wasn't
I have to wash my hair
.

A knock on the door had her dropping her phone.

‘Greta, have you got a minute?'

Finally, her father had come to her. Surely now he'd be telling her he was proud of her.

‘Sure Dad.'

‘Good,' he responded brusquely. ‘Come to my office and bring your ideas for the Morelli/Courteux account.'

‘Absolutely, I'll be there in five minutes.'

He nodded and walked out of her office. She took a couple of deep breaths to quell her still churning stomach. Why on earth she was nervous to see her father?

Once she had the churning under control, she opened her drawer. Extracting all her presentation information and the notes she'd made over the last two days.

As she went to leave her office, Graham appeared in her doorway.

‘Good morning, Greta. We need to talk.'

‘Hi, Graham. I can't talk I'm on way to a meeting with Dad.'

‘You'll want to hear what I have to say.'

His tone had her paying a little more attention to him. He'd always had an arrogant, slimy demeanour about himself. Today, standing in her doorway, it was more pronounced.

She placed the materials back on her desk and then sat down. ‘What is so important? You know Dad, he doesn't like to be kept waiting.'

Graham sauntered into her office and shut the door.

‘If you don't want to hear what I have to say, I'm sure your father will, and when he does, well, let's just say he'll know what I've always known.'

‘And what's that?' Impatience fired through her like a bullet out of a gun.

‘That you sleep around to get your accounts.'

Greta bit back a gasp. She'd only ever slept with one client.

Jeff.

Only she hadn't known that at the time. Besides, she'd already gone over her winning the account with Jeff. It didn't matter what Graham said or thought.

‘What on earth are you getting at? I've
earned
every single account by coming up with the best campaign.' Greta gathered up her things again and headed toward her door, wanting nothing more than to slap Graham hard.

‘What about Jeffrey Courteux? Certainly looked like you were going above and beyond the call of a simple advertising campaign the other night.' He walked to where she stood by her desk. ‘In fact, the two of you looked very intimate indeed at Palazzo Regent's bar. More intimate than people who'd just met that morning. I should've known there was more to you winning that campaign than just some
clever ideas
.'

Dread permeated her soul, Graham had seen her and Jeff. She racked her brain back to when they'd been in the bar. They hadn't kissed. But Jeff had pulled her to stand between his legs. Definitely not an action by two people who'd just met.

Graham wanted something in return for his silence. There was no way she was going to admit to anything going on between her and Jeff.

‘What do you want, Graham? And make it quick. I need to go see Dad.'

‘I want in on the account.'

She laughed at the absurdity of his demand. ‘That's impossible and you know it. You heard Luciano Morelli. If he finds out that you're anywhere near the account he's going to pull it.'

A sinister look appeared in Graham's eyes. A look she'd never seen before. Her confidence in being able to push him and his ideas aside wavered. ‘Then you'll have to make sure he doesn't find out, won't you?'

‘This is ridiculous, Graham. Dad wouldn't do anything to endanger the account. It would cost him too much to lose it. So why don't you run along and concentrate on your own accounts? Or better yet, gaining more accounts for the firm and leave. Me. Alone.'

‘Ah, Greta you're so naïve. I'll give some ideas you can incorporate. Later, babe.'

Graham opened the door and slunk out. He was delusional. There was no way in hell she was going to let him anywhere near the account. There was no way she would do anything to put the reputation of her father's firm at risk. She may be annoyed at her dad, but he was the only dad she had. She would never hurt him that way.

Getting herself under control, Greta strode down the hallway, heading toward Dad's office, wondering what she was about to walk into. Hoping against hope she could get through the meeting without blurting out Graham's threat. She suspected her father wouldn't believe her, no matter how convincing she could be. She would deal with the situation. She could handle Graham and his demands. Keep the account on the right track. She had no other choice.

She knocked briskly and opened the door. Her father was on the phone but he motioned her in.

Greta took a seat and placed her materials in front of her. Making sure she had everything in order for her father to look over.

‘I'm sorry for not getting here sooner, Dad,' she said once he'd hung up the phone. ‘I had an unexpected visit.'

He waved away her excuse. ‘It's fine. Now, let me have a look at what you've come up with for this campaign.' He looked over the top of his glasses at her, like her old school principal used to do. ‘This account is very important. We can't afford to have a second rate campaign.'

Still no
Congratulations. I'm proud of you honey
.

‘I think you'll find this campaign will make its mark on the advertising world. It's going to be the start of great things for the agency. Once clients see what we've done for Regents and Jeff—um, Mr Courteux, they'll be knocking on our doors, begging for us to come up with their next campaign.'

‘Hmm, we'll see.' Her father appeared engrossed looking over the drawings of how she envisaged the jewellery in television, print and online media. She hoped he hadn't heard her hesitation when she'd spoken Jeff's name.

When he finished looking over her layouts he placed them in a neat pile. ‘I don't know about this, Greta. These ideas of yours are too outlandish. How on earth do you plan to highlight the jewellery against the backgrounds you're suggesting? Are you planning on knocking on the door of one of the biggest diamond mining companies in the world and asking to be let onto their working mine site? No, I'm sorry, we're going to have to make modifications.'

Greta clenched her fists against the need to yell out at her father. Why did he always have to question everything she did? She'd come up with so many innovative ideas on so many occasions, only to have them rejected.

Sure, getting out to the diamond mine might be difficult, but not impossible. She took a deep breath, controlling her anger. ‘Dad, Mr Courteux has an arrangement to get his pearls from Fierro's in Broome. Luciano Morelli's Regent Hotels also have an agreement with the pearl farm. Getting to that site to take the underwater shots of the pearl farm and the jewellery won't be a problem. As for the diamond mine, I was going to approach Mr Morelli. See if he can help me get a meeting with the marketing department.' She sat forward, warming to her topic. ‘I'm sure they'd like to have their product brought to the public's attention. Not only with celebrity designer Jeffrey Courteux, but with a powerful corporation like the Morelli Corporation.'

Her father laughed. ‘Granted, I think you could probably get onto the pearl farm. The diamond company is world-renowned in its own right. It doesn't need to feel
associated
with a designer and another company.' He studied the top ad layout again. ‘Nope, I think we'll have to make modifications.'

She breathed in and out five times. Releasing the anger building inside of her. ‘Dad, Luciano and Jeffrey agreed with
all
my ideas. They
liked
what I presented. They
chose
me because of these ideas and the vision I'd created. Why can't you support me in this? Why can't you actually say congratulations to your own daughter who just landed your advertising agency a huge account?'

Her father sighed. ‘I am proud of you, Greta. This is definitely a coup for the firm. We'll fine-tune your ideas. Tone them down a fraction. Maybe incorporate some of the more traditional themes of displaying the jewellery. We'll have to reconsider the models wearing the pieces at the opening.'

‘No, Dad, we're not changing a single thing about the opening gala. I won't budge on that and neither will Jeff. He loved the idea and thought it would demonstrate his collection to the best advantage.'

‘Well, we'll see.'

‘I can't believe this, Dad, why are you doing this?'

‘Because I still run this agency. It's my name associated with this campaign. If it falls flat on its face, my name goes with it.'

The urge to stamp her foot and pound her fist on the table threatened to erupt out of her. ‘I bet you wouldn't do this if it was Graham who had won the account.'

‘No, I wouldn't, because his campaign would be traditional.'

‘Boring, you mean. He can't even present properly.' Greta wanted to snatch the words back. She couldn't let her father know what Jeff had told her.

‘I don't know what's going on here, Greta, but if anyone should be upset about missing out on getting the account it should be Graham. Not you.'

Her frustration levels were climbing higher with every word he spoke. But he wasn't going to sway her to change anything.

‘You're not tearing apart my whole campaign, Dad. I won't allow it.' She stood and gathered her layout boards. ‘I created this campaign. I convinced Luciano and Jeff to take a chance on
me
. I respect you as my boss and I love you as my father. But I won't let you water down my campaign.'

All Greta wanted was to lie down and sleep for a week. After walking out on her father she'd left the office and walked to the park. People-watching was a favourite pastime, but even that didn't calm the anger festering inside of her.

Now she was home and couldn't wait to get inside. She inserted her key in the lock and was about to open it when she heard the sound of another door opening.

‘Greta. I thought it was you. Do you have a minute?'

She turned to see Sheree popping her head out the door. ‘You're home already?' Greta thought for sure the other woman would've stayed longer at the hospital.

Sheree laughed. ‘Yeah, I didn't want to hang around in the hospital. It's not like it's my first time at doing this. Besides, the birth was easy so there was no need for me to stay at the hospital longer than a couple of days. The midwife is making house calls.'

‘You call giving birth in a lift easy?' she laughed, and walked toward Sheree.

The other woman opened the door wider so Greta could enter. ‘Yes, well, I had been in labour for a while before she finally decided to enter the world. I still can't believe she's here. She wasn't due for another two weeks.'

Greta couldn't think of anything worse than being in labour. She'd seen the pain Sheree had gone through a couple of days ago. To experience that amount of pain for any length of time, well, she just couldn't. ‘So when did you get home?'

‘The hospital discharged me about three this afternoon. I had to run a couple of errands so I've not been home long.'