CHAPTER8
Leon
For the first time since taking a real job, I don’t look forward to being at the office. Keeping a low profile, I do the work Gus demands of me and deliver my projects on deadline. I don’t do less or more.
Carter arrives mid-morning, cutting across the open space to Gus’s office. Gus steps out to greet him. He waves for Elliot, who comes out of his office.
“Brilliant job, Elliot,” Carter says. “Absolutely brilliant.” He rubs his palms together. “When am I going to see the second phase?”
Elliot’s lips stretch into a cardboard smile. “Second phase?”
Carter’s laugh is boisterous. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t pick up that you left that program open-ended with the possibility of selling me an expensive extension?”
Gus slaps Elliot on the back. “He’s working on it.”
“I want it before Easter,” Carter says.
“Greedy.” Gus chuckles. “Who says you’re the only bidder?”
“Nasty,” Carter deadpans. “I want exclusivity. Give me the first option. I’ll match any offers you get for the package deal.”
“We’ll talk about that later,” Gus says, ushering Carter into his office. “Let’s have a look at that accounting software you wanted.” He nods at Elliot. “Join us. I need your input on the backend functionality.”
Elliot drags a hand through his hair, following unenthusiastically in Gus and Carter’s footsteps.
I sit back, enjoying the show. Of course Gus and any client worth his salt would pick up that the software is missing a second phase. I’d like to see how Elliot lies his way out of that.
The junior programmer from desk three drops a file on my desk. “There’s a glitch in the system. The boss wants it fixed by tomorrow.”
He continues handing out work, doing the morning round.
An hour later, Carter leaves and Elliot goes back to his office. The prick has a sweat stain on the back of his shirt. Good. I hope he stews in his lies. He doesn’t look at me. He’s been avoiding me since yesterday, pretending I don’t exist. Maybe he’s scared the truth will show on his face if he glances in my direction. As always, the thought leaves me bitter and feeling done in. It not only reminds me that Elliot is a fraud, but also to what lengths Violet was willing to go to avoid marrying me.
Before I tackle my projects for the day, I call a guy at a security company Ian and I used in Pretoria. Walter is covered in tats from his head to his toes. He gives me several references for top-end tattoo salons in Johannesburg. I’m surprised to learn that Inked in Fourways has a six-month waiting list. If the place is that popular, it says something about the work of the artist.
After a quick online search, I discover why the artist, Joseph Goodman, is an icon in the country and considered as one of the best in his field. His tattoos are in a different league.
I call him, throwing around some of the names Walter has given me, and he tells me Violet can send him her portfolio. Yeah. That’s not going to do it for me. When I tell him I’m Ian’s brother, he lets out a whistle, offers me his condolences, and tells me to bring Violet on Saturday at any time. I hate using Ian’s name, but I’ll do anything for Violet. All the more reason to earn my own recognition.
When Elliot walks to the coffee machine and pours himself a refill, I get up and go over.
I shoulder him, making the coffee spill over his hand, and grunt, “Outside.”
His pale skin turns whiter still. “I’m busy.”
“Outside,” I growl in his face. “Or I’ll drag you there.”
He scoffs, hiding his fear behind his new superiority. “I’ll take the time off your pay.”
I don’t bother to acknowledge the comment. I make my way outside with long strides. Elliot follows with his mug in his hand. Going around the side of the building where we can talk in private, I wait.
Elliot smirks as he rounds the corner. He leaves his mug on the garden table next to the ashtray that’s overflowing with cigarette butts and leans on the wall. “How’s my stepsister, Hart?”
The question hits a nerve. From the way his grin grows to show off his pearly white teeth, that was his intention. He knows damn well Violet is miserable, that she did what she did for him because she never wanted to marry me.
That’s okay. She’ll come around. I have a lifetime to soften her up to me.
He takes a packet of cigarettes from the front pocket of his shirt. “What’s this about? You better make it quick.”
I raise a brow. “You’re smoking now?” My laugh is mocking. “Is the work stress getting to you?”
His smile remains intact as he shakes a cigarette from the packet. “You have until I’ve finished this smoke, so get to the point.”
His cocky bravado is all show. He swallows when I invade his personal space.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I have no desire to spend more time in your presence than necessary. Your stench may rub off on me.”
“Touché.” He pops the cigarette in his mouth, takes a lighter from his pocket, and squints as he lights the cigarette. After blowing out a puff of smoke, he grips the filter between his forefinger and thumb and tips the ash on the ground. “Then what do you want?”