Finding You Page 5

  “I presume you didn’t mention our conversation to him.” I’m still wondering if I still have a job—

  “Conversation?” He laughs. “I would call it a rant. However no, I didn’t say anything to him, because I also feel somewhat at fault. We will talk about it tomorrow morning.” He doesn’t leave me time to reply. “Valentina, I forgot. Thank you for the espresso.” He already hung up.

  This man is really disorienting me. Since he arrived my proverbial patience and rationality are going to hell. His mood changes are driving me crazy. Perhaps it’s simply like that: beside him I am not myself any more.

  Arriving at the office, I go directly to my desk with my head down. Where is Emma? I see her purse but there is no trace of her. James’s door is open. I take my coat off and give a quick glance at his office. Thank god he isn’t there. I can safely return to my desk.

  “Good morning!” someone suddenly thunders from behind my back.

  “Ahhh! Oh my god!” It’s him. “Are you crazy? Do you want to give me a heart attack?”

  He laughs. “To kill you? Not yet. Maybe later. At the moment I need you.” And those adorable dimples appear on his face.

  “Perhaps you made your plans without consulting me. I’m not sure yet if I will co-operate.” I reply sharply.

  “Something is telling me that you will co-operate. Come in and close the door, please.” He put a little too much emphasis on the word, please. But he has been polite, so I follow him to his office.

  “Please, have a seat.” I sit while he’s taking off his coat and scarf. How is it possible that everything he wears looks so good on him? God! I must concentrate on work, not on my boss. But I can’t take my eyes off of him. So I try to stare at his tie. Better. Yet, from this perspective, I can also see his pectorals. Jesus! Why is it so hot today? He puts his elbows on the desk with his hands folded. Damn you! This position reveals his biceps. I unbutton my shirt. My neck is burning. I begin waving my hand.

  “Something wrong?” God, he understood. Bad scene, but I give up.

  “Umm… No, it’s only the rubber band that doesn’t hold my hair in place.” While I fix it, I don’t dare look at him, but hear him softly laughing.

  “I apologize for my behaviour yesterday. I promise that I will seriously try to limit my cursing in front of you. No more whistling. No more finger pointing at you. Is that ok?” Strangely he seems serious.

  “Yes. I want to apologize too for my way of expressing my feelings. I should have been calmer.”

  “Let’s say we are both guilty and let’s start over.”

  I feel better now. He updates me about his conversation with Vic and the reason for the meeting this afternoon. Then he adds: “Since we have different opinions, it would be wise to discuss our common strategy. I don’t want to risk an argument with you in front of the CEO and the creative team.”

  I never attended those kind of meetings with Susan. I just brought her the documents when she asked for them. Nothing more.

  “James, sorry, but you are the boss. You don’t need my approval.”

  He adjusts himself comfortably in his chair and looks into my eyes before beginning to speak.

  “Listen, I want to explain something to you. I came to Italy for another position. Then Susan made this mess and here I am, taking her place. My objective is to fix it and complete this task as soon as possible and return to New York. Your objective should be to demonstrate how good and competent you are, so you can take over Susan’s position after I leave.”

  I knew he was crazy. I want to reply, but he continues. “In my opinion you need to show your face around the agency. Don’t remain in the shadows, if you believe in your ideas.” He smiles. “Do exactly what you did yesterday with me! You will come to this meeting. If you have something intelligent to say, say it. Don’t be a wall-flower. So we won’t appear inconsistent, we must decide on a mutual strategy.”

  I nod, although I don’t feel completely sane after what he just said.

  Thankfully the telephone rings.

  “Spencer.” He answers and I can’t avoid looking again at his biceps. He checks his watch. “I will come right now. Sure. See you later.” He hangs up and turns. “I need to see someone in the legal office. His name is Calligaris and he wants to discuss the terms of our proposed contract with me. When I come back, we’ll finish this conversation.”

  “Ok. Good luck with your meeting!” His eyes narrow. Too much familiarity? I never know what the correct behaviour is with him. Never sure about the right distance. Head down I return to my desk. Emma’s voice interrupts my stream of obsessive thoughts.

  “Hi Tina. Do you feel better today?” I look at her and I am shocked! One of her eyes is blacker than the other and her cheeks are bright red.

  “God, Emma! What happened to you?”

  “Tina!” She impatiently says, “I just put some make-up on—”

  She had applied a lot of dark eye-shadow and mascara and she is a mess.

  “Emma, come to the mirror to look at yourself. Your mascara is running.”

  She follows me to the bathroom and as soon as she sees her face, she realizes that the make-up has to go!

  “Can you explain to me why you applied all that stuff? This is not you!” I smile at her. “Did you meet someone?” She looks down. So I am right.

  “Not exactly. I just wanted to look prettier. Yesterday the boss smiled at me—”

  Our eyes meet in the mirror. “Emma, men like James Spencer don’t look at simple girls like us. They want women on their level.” This thought breaks my heart. And not only for Emma. “Women like those on the eighth floor are right for him.”

  “Oh!” When my colleague thinks, her expression is always oh. The more deeply she thinks, the longer the oh.

  When I return to my desk the telephone rings.

  “Harrison!” It’s James. “This meeting is taking longer than I expected. We meet Vic at two thirty this afternoon. We can discuss our strategy over lunch. Ok?”

  “Ok. See you later.” Today I will have a quick sandwich for lunch again.

  James appears at one o’clock. “Are you ready? I’ll get my coat and then we leave.” He goes into his office at lightning speed and comes back with his coat over his arm. “What are you waiting for? Hurry up, Harrison. We will be late for the meeting. I’m taking you out for lunch so we can discuss the details.”

  Is he taking me out to lunch? Oh boy!

  As soon as I step out into the cold my face stings. I wrap my scarf carefully around my neck. But James leaves his coat open and his scarf waves in the wind. He’s talking on his cell phone. His stride is so resolute and I’m not even sure where we are going. I follow him and observe how he’s joking and laughing with some person on the phone. I guess it’s one of his many women. So what? Why should I worry about it? Yet, I think it’s kind of rude to invite someone to lunch and spend all the time on the phone. Well, we are here for business. He’s my boss and can do whatever he wants. I am paid to do this. I am completely absorbed in my thoughts, when I feel someone from behind grabbing my wrist. My body automatically reacts: I turn my hand to free my wrist and then with both hands I grab the person’s arm pulling it up sharply- behind them.

  “Fuck! That hurts! Are you crazy?” Oh my god! It’s James. I let go of his arm. Before I was cold, now I am burning up. I am so embarrassed.

  “Sorry James! I am really sorry. I am so absent-minded.” I fix his coat. I breathe in his smell. Now I am sure, it is almond oil. That familiar shiver runs down my spine. “Hope I didn’t hurt you. Please, forgive me.”

  He’s laughing. Only at this point dare I look up.

  “Don’t worry. It takes more than that to break me. But what was that?”

  “I took a Krav Maga course in self-defence. That was one of the holds.”

  “You didn’t deck me, but we made a scene!”

  I look around and see intrigued passers-by who have stopped to observe us.

  “Better go. Someo
ne recommended a restaurant in this street on the left”

  I follow him pretending nothing happened. I can’t believe I really assaulted my boss!

  The restaurant is very modern. It reminds me of a Kartell store. Everywhere there is colourful Plexiglas: lamps, chairs and stools. Tables are all white contrasting with black plates and silverware. I confess I don’t especially like things out of the ordinary.

  “Have a seat.” James is behind me holding my chair like a true gentleman. His behaviour still puzzles me. How can this man be so gentle and so arrogant at the same time? His contradictions confound me.

  I thank him and give my coat to the waitress who is looking at me in an unfriendly way. What did I do wrong? I see that James also gives his coat to her. I didn’t make a mistake. I observe her and understand. She wonders why this insipid woman is with this attractive man. I have to accept it. This is what happens being with James. I put my glasses away and massage my temples.

  “Don’t you feel well?” He seems sincerely interested. If he only knew the cause of my migraine…

  “Everything is fine. How did your meeting with Calligaris go?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Calligaris has objections to everything!” The arrival of the waitress interrupts us. She wears tight black jeans and her dark shirt is unbuttoned enough to reveal a laced aquamarine bra. With a sensual gesture she passes the menu to James. She almost throws it at me. Yet he doesn’t seem especially interested in her. I think he’s hungry and concentrating on the menu. When he realizes the girl is still standing there, he finally looks up and with one of his smiles says: “Can you give us a few minutes to choose, honey?” Hearing that word honey, she’s caught in his net. With a kitten look she turns and walks away seductively. Another victim.

  “What do you want?”

  “Spaghetti Carbonara.” I close the menu and look at him. He is grinning. “Why do you laugh?” I think for a moment and I get it! “I suppose your guests usually order salad without dressing.”

  “Just with lemon juice.” He adds laughing.

  “I forgot. That is the touch of class!” I sharply reply.

  “Are you ready to order?” The sexy girl is back.

  “Yes. Two Spaghetti Carbonara’s. Thank you. Tina, would you like some wine?”

  My heart starts to race hearing his deep, warm voice calling my name. I shake my head.

  “Only a bottle of sparkling water, please.” He says to the waitress.

  I need to relax and keep talking about business. “So, did Calligaris give you a hard time?

  “I think he is a ball-breaker. We were all there looking for solutions to save the agency and he found every possible technicality to reject each proposal.”

  “Yet I think he’s very competent at his work.” I say. He raises one eyebrow.

  “Why that face?” I ask, taking a piece of bread.

  “If you like that kind of guy—” I almost choke myself. He pours me some water and changes the subject. “Why do you speak Italian so well?”

  “I have dual citizenship. My father is English and my mother Italian. You too speak perfect Italian.”

  “American father and Italian mother. But I learned Italian at school in Switzerland.”

  “I assume you use your Italian, at least with your mother.”

  He looked at me, silent for a moment, then he says: “I can’t, since she died when I was three years old.”

  I feel deeply embarrassed and look down, staring at the table cloth. Why do I always say the wrong thing? I was trying to be nice, to demonstrate that I can be sociable. On the contrary I am just stupid. I don’t know what to say. The silence is interrupted by the arrival of the waitress with our pasta. James seems serene and smiles at her. I have lost my appetite. I keep turning my spaghetti over on the plate.

  “Do you still live with your parents?” Thank god he breaks the silence. Perhaps I didn’t hurt him too much.

  “No, my parents divorced many years ago. My father returned to live in London. My mother is a marine biologist. When I was eighteen she was invited to be part of a research team in Sydney. She was supposed to be there for one year only, but she met Stewart. She re-married and they live there now.” He seems to want to know more. “My sister and I remained in Italy. The plan was to finish school and then join our mother in Australia. But Marta met Simon and got engaged. I started at the University in Milan… so we never moved. It’s six years now that I have been living alone.”

  “Why didn’t you move to London?” Today he really makes an effort to be kind in showing all this interest in me.

  “My father travels a lot for business. And, although I love to be with him and his wife, I don’t feel at home there. I feel Italy is my home. Also I really like where I live.”

  “And where is it?” Jesus, so many questions!

  “Barconate. It is a small town of two thousand inhabitants, between Como and Varese.”

  “Did you know my apartment is in Varese? It’s not too bad. Close to it there is a beautiful park where I jog every morning. The view is spectacular and there is so much green all around…The only problem is that I need to drive more than thirty miles twice a day to get to Milan and back.”

  We continue for a while to chat about things: university, vacations and places we love. I feel much more relaxed now and I must admit he is pleasant company.

  “Going back to the subject of work—” He begins, but I interrupt him. I want to mention my faux pas about his mother. I feel guilty.

  “Wait. First I want to say to you I’m really sorry about your mother. I apologize for asking. It wasn’t my business.” I keep my eyes looking down.

  “You don’t need to apologize for anything. How could you know? It happened a long time ago. Can we concentrate on work now?”

  “Sure! Common strategy. I agree with you.” I reply.

  While waiting for the coffee we discuss the line to adopt during the meeting with Vic and the creative team. When James leaves to pay, the waitress comes to the table and asks me: “Excuse me, can you give this note to the man with you?”

  Shocked by her courage and audacity I take her note. I would never have the nerve to do something like this!

  When my boss returns, I hand him the note without a word. He opens and reads it. He has a strange grin on his face and shakes his head.

  “Can you do me a favour?” I’m not sure what he has in mind, but I nod. I follow him and before leaving the restaurant he takes my hand. All the sensations I experienced with him before: shivers down my spine, fast beating heart, vertigo, are now amplified. His hand is warm and vibrant. His scent envelops me. I am melting out of control. Yet I don’t feel butterflies in my stomach. I mostly feel pins in my chest. Perhaps because my rational self is more powerful than my emotions. My brain is sending a message to my body: you can’t have this man, so don’t indulge yourself in these exciting sensations. Those feelings will never come back. Not with him. And with whom? When? I want them! Now that I know those emotions, I don’t want to give them up. I never experienced anything even close to this with Carlo.

  James is touching the girl’s shoulder. She turns with a glowing smile. I hide behind him. My nose is just one inch apart from his coat. I breathe his smell. I will never have another chance like this. I’m conscious of it. I stay still, as if I wanted to delay our imminent separation, while he carries on with his performance.

  “Thank you for your kind invitation, but as you can see,” he raises our clasped hands, “I already found my soulmate.” In this moment I would give anything to make this true! Oh boy, what’s happening to me?

  He continues: “You should be careful making these kind of proposals. Women are not always as understanding as my fiancée.”

  The poor waitress’s face turns from pale pink to bright red. I can’t enjoy my moment of victory. I know it’s all fake. Sadness is behind the corner.

  When we are out of the restaurant I realize he still holds my hand. I immediately remove
it. If this stream of emotions has to end, I prefer to have the last word. I resolutely put my hand in my coat pocket.

  “That was funny.” I say with an uncomfortable smile.

  “Next time she will think twice before shamelessly throwing herself at a man.” He comments. “Sometimes you, women, surprise me with your audacity!”

  “I agree.” I reply. Even though I too, dared to dream that something could happen between us.

  Chapter 10

  James

  It’s my first weekend in Italy. During the week I called an old college mate from Switzerland, Sebastian. He is the only friend I remained in touch with.

  He has been living in Lugano for two years. We agree to meet today in the afternoon. After dinner in a downtown restaurant not far from the lake, I find myself in a club. I immediately understand this is not a regular club. Sebastian tongues every woman he meets. This is basically a bordello. I have the confirmation of it, when a knockout brunette brings me into a VIP section of the club. I spend the night with her. An extraordinary night of sex! Just now I wake up and I realize the girl is sleeping beside me. I don’t even remember her name. I am used to similar situations. The only difference is that here you pay for it. In New York, when I hit on a girl in a club, I never bring her home. After sex women become demanding: they want to shower and to have breakfast. They snoop around and if they smell money, they want your telephone number. It becomes difficult sometimes to get rid of them. For this reason I usually take them to a suite at the Hilton Palace Hotel. This way I avoid problems. Yet, before leaving the room, I write a note saying that everything has been paid for and I suggest they should leisurely enjoy their time and breakfast. Sometime I add that it has been a fantastic night, etc. etc. Only one simple rule: never without protection. I try to remain rational enough, even after several drinks.

  While I get out of bed, the brunette turns to the other side. After a shower, I leave the room wondering where Sebastian may be. Then I check my cell phone and see his text message: