Snatched and No Way Out by Rachel Cray

Author:Rachel Cray
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Maryon Westerfield Publishing
Published: 2019-03-04T00:00:00+00:00

WHEN WE ARRIVED AT the office, we parted company at the main entrance; Greg went his way, up to the third floor, and I went mine, staying on the ground floor and walking straight towards my desk in Mike Lucas’ team. Mike was a partner in the corporate department, and I had been his secretary for the last three years.

Half-way through the morning, Greg came up to my desk at the office wearing a broad grin. “I managed to get a few days off in the middle of May,” he announced. “The 12th through to the 17th. Where do you feel like going?”

“Hey, wait a minute,” I said. “That’s only two weeks away. I have to check with Mike. And he'll want to think about the rest of the team.”

“Oh.” He sounded a little embarrassed. “Look, Julia, don't be mad at me, but I’ve already phoned him before I came down to see you. And he said it's O.K.”

I glared at him. Men! I thought. Always seeking to be in control. I recalled another, dark occasion when I found myself in the clutches of a crazed control freak. After I crawled out of that strange hell, I never wanted to feel controlled again; Greg knew that. But maybe I was over-reacting, I told myself.

“So where do you want to take me?” he asked me.

“If it's just a few days, we can't go far. And I’d like some sunshine.”

“How about the Channel Islands? Or is that too far?”

“A little. How about the Isle of Wight? My parents used to take me there when I was much younger. It would be great to see it again.”

“All right. I'll let you make the hotel booking. I got us the dates, and now you can get us the bed.”

“I’ll hit the Internet tonight, when we get home. It’s short notice, and I doubt whether I’ll find anything.”

Sally – one of the two associate attorneys in our team – looked up. “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help overhearing. I have a cousin who runs a small private hotel in Bembridge, on the Isle of Wight. I’m sure he could fit you in if you were interested. I might even be able to negotiate a discount for you.”

I had my doubts about Sally Palmer. She had joined the firm only three months earlier, moving across from a competitor firm in London called Marchwood Grafton. There were rumours that she had left Marchwood under a cloud, but nobody seemed to know the circumstances. I heard from a friend at that firm – in the strictest confidence – that she had attempted to blackmail one of their secretaries and there was some sexual entanglement, but it was all hushed up. It sounded to me as if they were glad to see the back of her and, armed with this information, I had always tried to keep her at arm’s length without raising any suspicion. I often wondered if I was misjudging her on the basis of silly gossip.

“That’s very kind, Sally,” Greg answered.

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