Chapter 3

And I sat there in my messy cubicle, with a pencil behind my ear and coffee stains on the computer printout in front of me, wondering. Not about figures, I can tell you. Just…how the hell Marcus managed to be so precise when there were so many things in life to distract a bloke’s best intentions, whether he was as regimented outside work, whether he’d really seen me that morning but couldn’t face cracking his schedule just to say hi to a minion like me…

Anyway. He was always a fine sight for me, in a selection of suits that weren’t designer or anything, but fit him well. Polished shoes, stylish hair. Confident stride, broad shoulders, slight whiff of understated cologne. Walking embodiment of Mr Executive. In everyone’s mind—and in most of the water-cooler gossip—Marcus Armstrong had been recruited straight onto the partnership path.

But today? He was at his desk before the firm’s official opening time, of course, but according to his own rigid schedule? He was late.