Convictions by Caro Land

Author:Caro Land [Land, Caro]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books - crime, thriller and mystery
Published: 2020-01-26T16:00:00+00:00

23

So much for positivity

Back in the conference room on Friday morning, Nat gently moved her head from side to side. She wasn’t sure if it was Gavin’s pearls of wisdom or just wishful thinking, but her neck felt much better today. She was trying to stay positive, despite Wednesday’s niggle. It didn’t really matter who’d linked arms with Gavin and Wes; in truth she was suffering from FOMO, so she’d decided to bugger the whiplash and self-pity; Natalie Bach was back, armed and ready for action, and, dare she say it, almost looking forward to the WMD party tonight.

Her mobile beeped. The text was from Wes. Trying to ignore the spread of anticipation, she opened the message, but the pleasure was short-lived.

In London on a trial, it said. Feel free to use my room. Hope you’re feeling better.

She couldn’t put her finger on why, but she felt cross, so she continued to sit stubbornly where she was, pulling out a new file for the mill man. Most of his workers had been at the clothing factory far longer than him, but he wanted employment contracts drawn up for the seamstresses. To enhance their working lives, she hoped, rather than to restrict them.

Remembering the women’s chatter above the steady trill, she pictured the bustling premises and the general vibe of contentedness. But the two darkly-clad women she’d bumped into in the loos had looked away with flickering eyes. They had returned to their bench, sitting apart from the others and whispering. The sixth sense Gavin had mentioned suddenly chilled her. She hoped she was wrong; a fine of up to £20,000 for each illegal worker would not be a good start to a new solicitor-client relationship. She shook the idea away; she was probably making assumptions; the correct pre-employment checks had been carried out, surely?

‘I hope DeMille knows myopia isn’t a defence,’ she quipped aloud before reprimanding herself. Bloody hell, sixth senses and non-PC comments; she was slowly morphing into Gavin Savage. She’d be wearing shouty aftershave next. Smiling at the thought, she opened the file cover, but before she got past floor plans and equipment guarantees, there was a knock at the door, followed by Max’s glossy hair.

‘I hear you’re using Wesley’s office today. Would you mind?’ He nodded to the table and smiled an attractive and very young smile, ‘I’m preparing trial bundles today; it’s much easier if I can spread them out.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Nat replied, scraping up her papers and hoping he hadn’t caught her ‘resting bitch face’. She’d heard one of the associates use the expression last week. It was a new one on her since returning from Mallorca, but she had a damned good idea what it meant. She’d seen it in the rain-splattered window on Wednesday and it was not a pretty sight.

She walked down the stairs carefully. Her whiplash was undoubtedly improving, but there was no need to be rash. She beeped through to the first floor, heading for Wes’s office, but two secretaries were chatting to Christine on reception.

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