A Chance Encounter by Rae Shaw (e manga reader TXT) 📗

scurried back to her seat in a huff. When Chris and Jackson walked past her to leave, Jackson gave her an annoyingly perceptive grin and wagged his finger at her. Julianna squirmed uncomfortably in her chair.

Later, back at the company’s HQ, Moran had hauled Julianna over the coals, reminding her not to engage in “arty farty chats about paintings”. Just because she had spent time with the boss and his family, that didn't exempt her from a rollicking.

Julianna had arrived home despondent. Her salvation was Mark. He dispelled her misery with a sublime kiss on her lips, and a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Forget it. Go have fun with Hettie, don’t think about it.’

Julianna picked up her car keys, and the bottle of plonk she had selected from the shelves of the local supermarket.

Half an hour later, she slammed the flat of her hand on the leather steering wheel. ‘What am I doing here?’

The seats were leather, and the dashboard flashed with all the latest instrumentation and the best satellite navigation system. She didn't feel out of place parked outside an exclusive area of the city. Indoors, she might feel different. She had never stepped foot inside the Holland Park house.

‘Move,’ she said in a tone reminiscent of her father’s bark when he trained her to kick her legs as high as his throat, countless evenings spent in his customised gym where she had learnt to protect herself from an unknown, unforeseeable menace. She never questioned why it might one day be important.

She approached the iron gate, punched in the keycode for access and waved at the CCTV camera; the guy on duty would recognise her. She drummed her fingers on the gate until it swung open, then strode across the drive under the leafy trees. The doorbell chimed like any other, summoning her host. She straightened her sleeves and flattened the lapels of her coat.

Hettie waved her in. ‘Julianna, come in, come in. You’re the last to arrive.’

She kicked off her shoes. There was a neat line of footwear along the wall from Jackson's hand-stitched loafers to a pair of boy's shoes. Using her toes, she straightened hers.

‘I’ve bought a bottle of wine.’ She held out the red.

Hettie thanked her and showed her to the kitchen, her bare feet pattering on the tiles. ‘That’s thoughtful of you. Jackson has a substantial wine cellar.’

The wine was a stupid mistake. She should have bought cake or chocolates.

Hettie put it on the kitchen worktop. ‘Sorry, I sound ungracious. His wine collection is a little intimidating. I pick bottles up and put them back because I don’t know if I’m about to throw back a hundred-pound bottle when all I want is to get a little pissed. So we’ll open this one.’

‘No, it’s fine. Silly of me. I didn’t know if I should bring anything or—’

‘You don’t have to bring anything but your company.’ Hettie smiled. She could charm anyone with that smile. ‘Please, Julianna. I know you’re used to calling me Mrs Haynes. But I’m Hettie tonight.’

‘Fine. Thanks,’ she said awkwardly.

The kitchen was spotless to a clinical level of cleanliness, which made Julianna wonder if food was ever prepared on its surfaces.

‘We're in the breakfast room. It's the sunniest room in the evening.’ Her eyebrows bunched together. ‘Thinking about it, it shouldn't be.’ Hettie opened the bottle. ‘You’ve not been inside this house, have you?’

‘No, actually. I haven’t. I kind of throw you out of the car, don’t I?’

‘I suppose you do.’ Hettie led her into the adjoining room. There was, unsurprisingly, artwork mounted in polished frames and hung on meticulous walls. Everything shouted wealth, except the kitchen, which at least resembled some kind of grand version of normality.

The other two guests were nearly touching foreheads, nattering away in hushed tones. They broke apart when Hettie introduced Julianna.

‘Hi,’ said a thin woman with letterbox glasses. ‘I’m Zoe.’ She shook Julianna’s hand.

‘And I’m Eva,’ said the other woman. Her hair was dyed red. The roots were black.

The introductions completed, Hettie shoved the door shut with her hip. Hettie could wear anything and look graceful, even the casual attire of leggings and a low-cut sweater probably came straight out of a fashion magazine. Julianna had chosen straight slacks and a pin-striped top. She wished she had worn jeans and a t-shirt, like the others.

‘Gin rummy.’ Hettie offered Julianna a seat next to her at the table.

About them on the floor were boxes stuffed with toys and children’s books. Unlike the kitchen, the breakfast room was lived in and family orientated.

‘You shuffle too well, Zoe,’ Eva said. She lowered her cards but didn't hide them well. Julianna concurred – Eva had nothing in her hand. ‘Hettie says you’re her bodyguard?’

She cleared her throat. ‘Occasional bodyguard. Most of the time I do investigative stuff. Uncover financial irregularities, and other… stuff.’ She glossed over the work of Opportunitas. Recently Tess had returned to work so Julianna was finally allowed a project of her own and, given the sensitive nature of the investigation, it meant reporting directly to Jackson.

‘Which do you like best?’ asked Zoe. ‘Leaping into action at the wheel of a car or... fraud?’

Julianna hadn't leapt into anything since Dublin. ‘Both, I suppose. I don’t like being behind a desk too much.’

‘She doesn’t like driving me about too much either.’ Hettie nudged Julianna's shoulder. ‘Boring.’

‘No!’ Julianna said. ‘It’s not boring—’

‘Don’t lie. What an earth do you get from sitting in a car with a stressed mum and two screaming kids. Wine anyone?’ Hettie asked.

‘Gives you the chance to easily wipe snotty noses. Just a little, please,’ said Julianna, accepting a couple of splashes in her glass. ‘I’m driving back. I would be hung out to rot for drink driving.’

‘You brought the bottle though,’ Zoe said.

‘I know, crazy choice of gift.’