The Holly Project (4 page)

“Slater’s not going to fire you.”

Not only was he a phenomenal kisser, he was also a mind reader.

“I have to go. I’m sorry.” I turned to walk away.

“This isn’t over, Ms Ashton,” he said, with authority.

I turned. His expression was impossible to read. “Pretty sure it never began, Mr Davenport.” Satisfied at having the last word, I turned on my heel and quickly made my way to the bathroom.

Once I’d freshened up, I made my way back through the noisy bar. I could see Jason and the others standing near the entrance to the courtyard. As soon as I touched Jason’s arm, he turned and took a step away from the group.

“Oh my God, Holly,” he said, with concern in his voice. “I was about to come looking for you. You just missed Mr Davenport.”

I took a long sip of the drink he handed me before responding in a casual voice. “Oh, really? He can’t have stayed long.” I desperately hoped it wasn’t obvious how hot and flustered I was. “What did he have to say?”

Jason glanced over his shoulder. “No idea. He had a quick word with Slater then left.” He grinned cheekily as he sipped his beer. “Eva looked really pissed that he was oblivious to her existence. You would’ve loved it.”

“Jase, I think I’m going to head home. Do you think I’ve put in enough time?”

“Absolutely,” he said, without hesitation. “I’ll come with you.” He sculled his beer and deposited the empty glass on the table next to him.

“Don’t you want to stay and put the moves on the blonde by the bar?” I gestured towards the stunning woman who had been eyeing him since I returned from the bathroom. “She’s gorgeous.”

He just shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “I chatted to her while you were in the bathroom. She’s nice enough, but I’m not interested.” He held my coat out for me. “Let’s go.”

Just as I was buttoning up and getting ready to leave, Slater approached.

“Can I have a word, Holly?” He looked at Jason and raised his eyebrows. “A private word?”

Jason held up his hands, taking the hint. He made his way over to Michelle and Piers, leaving me alone with our boss.

“You just missed Ryan Davenport,” Slater said when Jason was out of earshot.

“I know,” I cringed. “Jason told me. Mr Slater, I didn’t get a chance to say this after the meeting but I wanted to apologise for my emotional outpouring during the presentation today. It’s not like me to bring my personal life into work and I’m sorry. I really hope I didn’t embarrass you or the firm in any way.”

Slater looked at me like I was from Mars.

“What are you talking about, Holly? You blew me away with your speech. I had no idea you had that in you. And you clearly blew Mr Davenport away too. He chose your design.”

My jaw dropped, rendering me speechless for a few seconds as my poor sobering brain tried to process the enormity of what he had said.

“Um, really? I mean, seriously?”

Professional, really professional…

“Yes, Holly. Really. He’d like you to come to his office on Monday to go over your design in more detail. He was really impressed with you. Congratulations.”

Still in a daze, I said my goodbyes then Jason and I headed out. The whole city buzzed with people enjoying drinks after work. The later it got, the messier it got. It was only ten-thirty, but the streets were already full of drunken suits.

“I’ll walk you home then get a cab from Oxford Street,” Jason offered.

“Sounds good to me. Thanks.”

Jason wrapped his arm tightly around my shoulders and we worked our way through the crowds.

“So what did Slater have to say?”

“That Ryan – I mean Mr Davenport – has chosen my design.”

Jason stopped and turned. “Oh, that’s amazing, Hol. Congratulations! Your design was perfect. Mr Davenport obviously has great taste.” He hugged me tightly.

“Thanks, Jase. I’m still a little shocked.”

When we reached my apartment building, I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t want to come up and hang out. I was exhausted. I just wanted to curl up in bed and recover from the day.

“Thanks for coming to get me this morning. Didn’t turn out so bad in the end, I guess.”

“You’re welcome. For what it’s worth, I think your mum would be proud of you regardless of your work successes.”

I gave him a quick hug. “Night, Jase.”

As I opened the front door into our quiet, dark apartment, I was struck by the view, as I always was. The wall opposite was floor-to-ceiling glass and you could see right over Hyde Park to the city skyline, lit up in all its urban glory. I love beach and water views when I’m on holidays, but for me, there has always been something soothing about a cityscape. Maybe it’s the architect in me.

Despite being emotionally drained, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. All I could think about was that kiss. I had never been so attracted to a man before, and I was finding it unsettling. I was no virgin – I enjoyed the company of men and I enjoyed sex. I just never allowed any kind of emotional connection. Serious relationships were of no interest to me. It was just safer that way. But with Ryan, there was an irresistible attraction beyond anything I’d experienced before. He made me feel completely exposed yet strangely exhilarated, all in a single glance. It had me rattled. The fact that I was going to be working with him was terrifying.

Glancing over at the clock, I realised it was after midnight – I had made it through another birthday.

Instead of feeling relief at having survived the day, I felt… I didn’t know how I felt. A light knock on my door jolted me out of my thoughts.

“Come in.”

“Hey babe, just wanted to check that you’re okay,” Audrey whispered, crawling into bed with me.

“Honestly, Aud, I don’t know. It’s been a full-on day and I’m all over the place.”

“So is it hot guy related or work related?”

“Believe it or not, they’re one and the same. Hot guy from the café turned out to be Ryan Davenport, CEO of Davenport Property.”

“Holy crap, Hol. That’s who your design was for, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. What were the chances?”

“Sounds like fate to me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh God, not you too. Ryan thought the same thing.”

She flicked on my bedside lamp, flooding the room with light.

“Holly Rose Ashton. Spill it.”

Squinting, I pulled the bed covers over my face, trying to stifle a strangled laugh. When I edged them back and peeked over the top, Zara was there too. So I was in for the Spanish Inquisition.
Excellent.

“What’s going on?” Zara asked.

“Nothing is going on. I met a hot guy today who turned out to be a client.”

“Ryan Davenport. Let’s google him!” Audrey suggested excitedly.

Zara tapped away at her phone then showed Audrey the search results. I had to clamp my hands over my ears to drown out the squealing.

“Oh my God, Holly! He is a god,” squealed Audrey. “You have to have sex with him, then tell us everything, so we can live vicariously through you.”

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen. I’m not going to have sex with him. He’s a client. End of story. He’s a really good kisser, though,” I winked. I knew I was adding fuel to the fire, but I couldn’t resist.

“Shut up!” they said in unison.

Audrey was suddenly serious. “Hang on a second. That’s a bit risky, isn’t it? Kissing a client is very out of character for you. Did it have anything to do with it being a particular day of the year?”

“That’s what I was deliberating when you came in. I wasn’t myself all day,” I said. “We made some crazy, weird connection that totally freaked me out. Then, in my presentation, I found myself opening up to him about how Mum inspired my architectural style.”

Audrey and Zara glanced at each other quickly, but said nothing.

“Then he was at the bar tonight and all I could think was how much I wanted him to kiss me.” I touched my lips briefly. “Even though I knew it was wrong, I didn’t care. The whole day was one big out-of-body experience.”

Nervously pulling at the stitching on my bedspread, I glanced up. My two best friends were staring at me.

Audrey put her arm around my shoulders. “It sounds really romantic. I’m so happy someone is making a crack in the Great Wall of Holly.”

Zara climbed off the bed and picked up a photo of Jason and me at the go-kart track from my dresser. “Jason will be jealous. Pretty sure he thinks he has the monopoly on you.”

“Nothing is going to happen with Ryan. He chose my design so I’m going to be working at his office on Monday. It’s not like I’m going to risk my career over a man.”

“Oh my God! That’s massive. Congratulations,” Audrey said, hugging me excitedly.

“That’s so awesome, Hol,” Zara said, smiling. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks, guys.”

“I wonder how Jason will cope with you working with the smoking hot Ryan Davenport?” Zara asked.

“Jason and I are just friends. He says he’s happy just hanging out with all of us.”

“Well, you know him best, I guess. But I’m pretty confident he’s biding his time until you’re ready to commit,” Zara said.

“Don’t worry about Jason. It’ll be fine.” I hoped that was true. He, Audrey and Zara were my best friends and I didn’t want to hurt any of them, ever.

“It’s so unfair,” Audrey complained. “Why can’t my work colleagues look more like Jason – or Ryan, for that matter? I’m surrounded by the kind of specimens you find at the singles table at a wedding.”

“Wait, so let’s get this straight,” Zara said. “For the first time in a long time, you let down your defensive wall just a little and put yourself out there on the one day of the year you normally hole up with ice cream and TV. On this particular day, you also happen to have a massive win at work and you kiss a sex god. That’s got to tell you something, right?”

“It’s time, Holly,” Audrey added.

I had a nauseating feeling of deja vu. “Time for what, exactly?”

“It’s time to break your own rules and let someone in. You’re missing out on life,” she continued.

“Don’t argue, Hol. Just think about it, okay?” Zara said.

They both hugged me and then left before I could respond.

Knowing sleep would elude me for a while yet, I reached for my bedside drawer and took out a box. It had been a long time since I last ran my hands over the smooth, dark wood. My fingers traced the initials engraved into the lid: ARW. Anna Rose Wilson. We shared a middle name as well as many physical features. Lifting the lid, tears immediately welled in my eyes. She looked back at me from the photo I had stuck to the underside of the lid. She was a beautiful woman, tall and slim with light-brown hair that hung in glossy waves down her back. I got my darker hair from my father, but my distinctive eyes came from Mum.

But these physical features were not what made her so breathtaking. She was lit from within. That’s what I remember about her. Everyone she met loved her, and her energy was infectious. Wiping away the tears, I picked up her charm bracelet. It was the one piece of her jewellery I had asked to keep. Each charm reminded me of a time with her that I treasured. We found our favourite one at the London Silver Vaults on Chancery Lane when I was ten years old. Carefully, I held the silver oyster and opened it up to reveal the tiny pearl inside. I remembered her delight as she first discovered that it could be opened. I hadn’t thought about her infectious laugh in so long.

Still holding the bracelet, I picked up my journal. Lifting it to my nose, I breathed in the nostalgic smell of leather and was immediately flooded with memories of Mum teaching me to ride a horse. The smell of the tack room, full of saddles and bridles, was intoxicating. Slowly peeling back the soft leather cover, I read the poem I’d written for Mum’s funeral service almost a decade ago.

You’re safe on your pedestal, Mum. You’re frozen in time.

A beautiful life snuffed out in its prime.

My heroine, my teacher. You were my protector and friend.

Life going forward, I just can’t comprehend.

You were creative and generous. You were thoughtful and kind.

I can’t help feeling you’ve left me behind.

What will we do now, from our own private hell?

These words are nothing more than a reluctant farewell.

Breathe in and breathe out, one step in front of the other.

My broken heart’s bleeding for the loss of my mother.

I ran my finger over the words and was stabbed with the familiar mixture of emotions – grief, anger and betrayal. This poem had become my armour, deeply etched into my damaged heart.

Snatched from sleep by a buzzing sound, my brain eventually worked out that my phone was vibrating on my bedside table. The lamp was still on and my journal lay open on my chest. I was still clutching Mum’s charm bracelet; it had made tiny impressions on my palm. My head was pounding and my eyes were puffy. Trying not to move too quickly, I reached gingerly for my buzzing phone. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hi, sweetheart. I just wanted to say happy birthday for yesterday. I know you don’t like us calling on the day…”

“It’s okay, Dad. How are you?” I asked, feeling the tightness in my head worsen.

Each year, the grief Dad felt on the anniversary of Mum’s death was exacerbated by the guilt he felt for not wanting to celebrate my birthday. We spoke irregularly and said very little. Every time we spoke, I was reminded of how much he missed my mother, and how lost he was without her. Just like I was. It wasn’t what he said – it was what he didn’t say. He was distant and detached, a shell of his former self. In the years following her death, I tried to hold it all together for my sisters as much as I could. But for Dad, I knew I was a constant reminder of her. It felt like every time he looked at me, he slipped further into his grief. When I finished school, I moved out and went to university. I saw them less and less. It seemed better that way.

“I was hoping you could come over tomorrow for lunch. April and Jamie will be there, and Connor, of course. We haven’t had a meal together in ages. Bring Audrey if she’d like to come. I’d love to see her too.”

“Um, yeah, okay, sure. Sounds good. I gotta go though, Dad.”