The Bonus Read online

“What?” he said. “I'm just being honest.”

  She glared at him. “Did you think fifty quid would buy your way into my knickers?”

  He smiled.

  “That's it isn't it?”

  “No. Nothing like that.”

  “So you didn't want to get into my knickers?”

  “Well yes, but you're making this sound bad.”

  “Oh, I'm sorry. I thought for a moment you'd mistaken me for a hooker.”

  “I find you attractive. That's it.” He finished the rest of the Whisky. “Is that a crime?”

  “I'd better get back to the shop.”

  “What about the job offer?”

  “Let me get this straight. You couldn't get me into bed for fifty quid, so now you're offering fifty thousand?”

  “The job offer is genuine. I really do need a personal assistant.”

  “I don't know the first thing about being a PA.”

  “It's not difficult. You just have to do everything I ask.”

  “Like dropping my knickers?”

  “No. I'm talking about your work duties—nothing else.”

  “This whole thing is crazy, but I'll humour you for a few minutes. If I did take the job, and I'm not saying I'm going to, but if I did, would you promise not to try anything on?”

  He hesitated a few seconds too long.

  “I knew it. Forget it!” Lacey was out of the seat and on her way to the lift.

  “Wait!”

  “What now?” She spun around to face him.

  “You have my word. I promise not to do anything you don't want me to.”

  “I'll let you know,” she said as the lift doors closed.

  **********

  “Lacey. What happened? Was it okay? What did he say?” Carlos was in her face as soon as she walked into the shop.

  “Hold on. Let me get in the door. Who's watching the front?”

  “I've suspended deliveries for an hour. Tony's on the counter.”

  “He'll love that.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Nothing much.” Lacey took a bottle of water from the fridge, and took a huge swig.

  “What do you mean nothing much? He's not going to close me down is he?”

  “Close you—? No. What makes you think he's going to close you down?”

  “Raw has a reputation for closing any branch he thinks is under-performing. He's ruthless. A friend of mine had his shop closed last year.”

  “Raw? Did you actually call him Raw?” Lacey laughed.

  “That's his name.”

  “Of course that's not his name. Who the hell calls their kid Raw? It's not even a name! His name is Rory, and he never said anything about closing you down. In fact, he was very complimentary about the pizza.”

  “He ate it?”

  “Actually, I did.”

  “Are you insane? He'll sack your arse.”

  “That's where you're wrong. He offered me a job.”

  “What kind of job?”

  “He wants me to be his personal assistant.”

  “Very funny. Why would he offer you a job as his personal assistant?”

  “Hey! I'd be a great PA. How difficult can assisting be? I can assist.”

  “So are you quitting?”

  “No. I told him I didn't want his job.”

  “You turned him down?”

  “Yeah. I told him I was way too happy working here.”

  “You did?”

  “Course I didn't. Do you think he'd have believed that?”

  “So why didn't you take it?”

  “I don't know. It didn't feel right.”

  For the remainder of the shift, Carlos continued to press her for more details. She didn't tell him the real reason she'd turned down the job offer. It was a fantastic salary—far better than any of the jobs she'd applied for, and then there was the company car. The truth was she wouldn't trust Rory (call me Raw) as far as she could spit him.

  Chapter 4

  “Tell me you're joking,” Suzy said. “You said 'no'?”

  “Of course I did,” Lacey said.

  “Why? It's not like you've been snowed under with job offers.”

  “It wasn't a real job.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do. He wanted to get into my knickers.”

  “Do you fancy him?”

  “No,” she said with no conviction at all.

  “You never could lie. If you fancy him, why not take the job?”

  “Would you sleep with someone just to get a job?”

  “Not with just anyone, but if he's half as hot as you make out, my panties would have been off for the fifty quid tip.”

  “I'm not you,” Lacey said.

  “You're certifiable. You do know that, don't you? This kind of offer comes up once in a lifetime—if that. If you don't say yes, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Did you actually give him a definite 'no'?”

  “Yes,” Lacey lied.

  “Then you're a fool.” Suzy sighed. “I'm going to meet Steve.”

  “Don't go calling him Daggers by mistake.”

  Suzy flipped Lacey the finger before disappearing out of the door.

  What the hell did Suzy know anyway?

  Lacey had almost worn a path in the carpet as she paced around the room. She was replaying recent events in her mind. Two days ago she'd been perfectly happy. Well—not exactly happy. More like: broke, bored with no future. Why did he have to come along with his good looks, body-to-die-for, riches and job offer? Who did he think he was disrupting her life by offering her a highly paid job? Who did he think he was telling her he wanted to take her to bed? She wished she'd never laid eyes on him or heard his name. Raw? What kind of stupid nickname was that? Seriously—the man needed to grow up.

  What time was it? Ten AM. She'd promised to let him have a definite yes or no by three that afternoon. She already knew her answer. A great big 'No'. She could just as easily call him now and tell him. So why didn't she? There wasn't any rush. She'd make him wait until the very last second, and then call and say:

  'I've given your offer very careful consideration, and I've come to a decision. Go fuck yourself!'

  Curiosity had got the better of Lacey, so she went through to Suzy's room and grabbed her flatmate's tablet computer from the bedside table. Suzy had forbidden her to use it. Tough titties—this was payback for the brown jumper. The news articles came thick and fast. Rory Westgrove was a pop star of the service industry.. It didn't take Lacey long to realise Chipmunk Pizza was only one of the companies in his portfolio. Many articles speculated on his wealth, but there seemed to be no consensus. Estimates varied between one hundred and three hundred million. Bloody hell! No wonder he could afford to tip her fifty quid. It was no more than loose change to him.

  Lacey continued her research, but now she was focussed on his private life. There were far fewer articles about the man himself. He'd never been married, and according to several sources, he'd never had a relationship which lasted more than a few months. There were any number of photos of him with a beautiful woman draped over his arm. The man was a player—Lacey decided. If he had his way she'd be just another notch on his bedpost. Why her though? That's what she didn't understand. All of the women in the photographs were beautiful—catwalk model beautiful. She wandered over to the full length mirror. She wasn't unattractive, but she wasn't in the same league as the women in the photos.

  Lacey was bemused and even shocked by some of the stranger articles she came across. In one, there was even a suggestion that Rory Westgrove had murdered his own parents in order to inherit the business which was to become the foundation of his current business empire. That first business had been none other than the pizza chain. At the time of his parents’ death—in a car crash—the pizza chain had been only a dozen outlets, and had been called Catcha Pizza. No charges had been laid against Westgrove, and a few months later he'd re-branded the chain to Chipmunk Pizza. The rest, as they say, was
history.

  Lacey was still scrolling through articles on 'Raw', as most of the reporters insisted on calling him, when there was a knock at the door. The battery on the tablet was almost flat—she'd have to recharge it before Suzy got back or she'd be in trouble.

  “Mr Clemens?” Lacey said. “It's only the seventeenth?”

  Archibald Clemens was their landlord. He looked like a man in his seventies, but he was actually only fifty-four years of age. Lacey's mum had dated 'Archie' in her youth. The years had been much kinder to her mum than they had to him.

  “I'm not here for the rent.”

  It was just as well. Lacey didn't get paid until the twenty-sixth, and she wasn't going to use the fifty pound note.

  “What is it then?”

  “Can I come in?” He didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he squeezed past her and walked through to the living room. Lacey followed him inside.

  “I'm sorry,” she said. “It's a bit of a mess—”

  “It doesn't matter. I've come about the lease renewal.”

  The lease was renewed every year at the end of August. He'd better not be about to tell her he would be raising the rent. She could barely meet the payments as it was.

  “I won't be renewing your lease,” he said.

  “What?”

  “At the end of August, you'll have to find alternative accommodation.”

  “Why? You can't do that.”

  “I think you'll find I can. It's all in these papers.” He handed a thick, brown envelope to Lacey. “If you have any questions, please refer them to my solicitor. His card is in the envelope.”

  “But—”

  He was already on his way of the door.

  “Fuckity fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Lacey hurled a cushion across the room. “He can't do this! You can't do this!” she yelled at the door. “Oh God!”

  What the hell was she going to do? She grabbed her phone.

  “Suzy?”

  “Lacey?” Suzy's voice was little more than a whisper. “What's up, babes?”

  “I can hardly hear you,” Lacey said. “Where are you?”

  “I'm in the cinema.”

  “We need to talk. It's urgent!”

  “Hang on. Fuck you too!”

  “What?”

  “Not you, Lacey. Some arse hole here is giving me grief. Shut your mouth or I'll shove your popcorn down it. Hang on, babes.”

  “Suzy?” Are you still there?”

  “Right. I can talk now. What's up?”

  “Clemens just came around.”

  “Rent's not due—”

  “He didn't come for the rent. He's chucking us out at the end of August.”

  “He can't do that.”

  “He reckons he can.”

  “Oh well. Fuck it. Never mind.”

  “What do you mean never mind? What are we going to do?”

  “I'll move in with Steve. He's been asking me to for ages.”

  “What about me?”

  “I don't think there's room for you too.”

  “Suzy!”

  “Sorry. Bad joke. You'll find something.”

  “Where? I can barely afford this place.”

  “I don't know. I'll help you look. I'd better get back or I'm going to miss the movie. Catch you later, babes.”

  “Suzy! Wait!”

  “Talk later. Don't worry. It'll be okay. See you.”

  The line went dead. Lacey stared at her phone in disbelief. It was only the previous day that Suzy had been screwing Daggers, and now she was going to move in with Steve. Un-fucking-believable!

  She sat on the floor with her back resting against the sofa. It was easy for Suzy to tell Lacey she'd find somewhere. It had taken her forever to find this place—it had been the only flat in her price range which hadn't been overrun by vermin. She was pretty sure Clemens couldn't just throw them out, but she'd no idea how to fight it, and had no money to pay for a solicitor.

  Lacey tapped the number into her phone, and pressed 'Call'. This was insanity, but what other choice did she have?

  “Can I speak to Mr Westgrove in the penthouse please?”

  Chapter 5

  It was the first time she'd visited the Commodore in anything other than her Chipmunk Pizza uniform. She was wearing the white blouse and grey pencil skirt she'd bought specifically for job interviews. This was their first official outing. It was the first time she'd visited the Commodore via the main reception. At least today she wouldn't have to put up with the obnoxious security guard in the car park.

  The sound of her heels on the polished wooden floor seemed to echo around the enormous reception. Lacey was so nervous that she almost forgot how to walk as she made her way to the desk. 'Left foot, right foot, left foot – don't trip up'

  “Good morning madam,” a young man with a dazzling smile and overpowering aftershave greeted her

  “Morning.” Her throat was so dry she could barely speak. “I'm here to see Mr Westgrove in the penthouse suite.”

  She'd barely slept. All night long she'd been tossing and turning—wondering if she was doing the right thing. While she'd lain awake, she wondered if she should cancel this appointment. Several times she'd decided she would, but still here she was.

  “To see Mr Westgrove?” There was an unmistakeable hint of surprise in the young man's voice. Didn't she look like the kind of woman who would visit Westgrove? Of course she didn't. She'd seen the photos of the beautiful women who usually accompanied him.

  “That's right.”

  “Is he expecting you?” the young man asked.

  “Yes. I have an appointment at ten thirty. My name is Lacey Simpson.”

  “Just a minute please.”

  He picked up the phone and punched in a single number. Lacey wondered for a moment if he was calling security to have her ejected.

  “Mr Westgrove. Sorry to disturb you. This is Simon on reception. I have a Lacey Simpson here. She says—. Oh? Right. Of course. I'll send her straight up.”

  Simon was all smiles now. “Mr Westgrove is expecting you.”

  'Told you so—you smarmy bastard,' Lacey thought, but she actually said, “Thank you.”

  Westgrove was seated at the head of the boardroom table. He was all alone in the room.

  “Come in.” He beckoned her to take the seat to his right. “I'm pleased you changed your mind, although I don't mind admitting it came as something as a surprise. You didn't seem too keen.”

  “I wasn't. I'm still not.”

  “So why are you here?”

  “Look. Can I be straight with you?”

  “Of course.”

  “I don't really want this job, but I need the money. My landlord decided to give me the boot yesterday.”

  “Well, that's honest at least.”

  “Can you tell me what the job would entail exactly?”

  “There'll be plenty of time for that later. I have to say you're looking very elegant this morning.”

  “Because I'm not wearing my Chipmunk uniform, you mean? I do have other clothes. By the way, those uniforms suck big time.”

  “I like them.”

  “You would. You don't have to wear them.”

  “I prefer your hair when it's down.”

  Lacey had decided she'd look more business-like with her hair in a bun.

  “There is one thing I want to know before I decide if to take this job,” she said.

  “What's that?”

  “Is this all some elaborate scheme to get me into bed?”

  “Of course.”

  “In that case.” She was stunned by his bluntness. “You can forget it. I'm not a hooker.” She stood up.

  “Wait!”

  “What?” She spat the word.

  “Where will you live?”

  “In a cardboard box if I have to. What business is it of yours anyway?”

  “Sit down, please. We can discuss this.”

  “There's nothing to discuss. I know your type—”

  “My ty
pe?”

  “Shut the fuck up. I'm speaking.”

  She saw a smile flit across his face. How she would have loved to slap him.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I'm listening.”

  “I know your type. You think because you're rich you can buy anything or anyone. I've seen photos of you with a million and one different women. Were they PAs too? Does it make you feel better to call them PAs rather than hookers? Can't you get a woman without flashing your wallet? You're pathetic!”

  He was about to speak, but Lacey continued, “There's one thing I don't understand. Why me? I'm not in the same league as your usual conquests. Or do you only have your photo taken with the beautiful ones—?”

  “You are beautiful.”

  That took the wind out of her sails, but only for a few seconds. It was just words—he didn't mean it.

  “Did you fancy a bit of rough? Is that it?”

  “Can I speak now?”

  “Are you going to deny it?” She glared at him.

  “You're right.”

  “Of course I am.”

  “But not about everything.”

  She took a seat. “Go on then. Let's hear it.”

  “You're right—I do want to go to bed with you. But that's not because I think you're a bit of rough. The moment I saw you walk through those lift doors, I knew I wanted you.”

  “Because I looked so sexy in my Chipmunk uniform?”

  “You'd look great in anything.” He smiled. “Or in nothing at all.” The smile turned to a grin. “Look, I admit that I wanted you the first moment I saw you. But that has nothing to do with the job offer.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “Okay. Well maybe it has something to do with it, but the offer is genuine. I do need a personal assistant.”

  “What about all of the other women? Were they PAs too?”

  “No. They were just friends. Dates. Whatever you want to call them.”

  “Did you go to bed with all of them?”

  “You're very blunt aren't you? That's none of your business. Do you want the job or not?”

  “No.”

  “What if I made certain promises?”

  “Such as?”

  “That our relationship would be strictly professional.”