Boss Undercover: Part 1 (Boss Undercover Series) Page 8

  It would have been a lot more obvious to somebody else as he mumbled yes over and over, ignoring Kyle as he clicked on the email.

  Three months’ planning.

  He read it before repeating it aloud.

  “Three months what?” Kyle mimicked.

  “Nothi—I mean, I could do this for three months, couldn’t I?” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look, if I do this for three months, I could ensure the planning for this project doesn’t get sabotaged at the same time. I suspect it’s someone in the sales and marketing department. And that way I can also ensure enough effort is put into this for it to be successful this time, right?” he clarified as he tapped the end of his pencil upon the desk.

  “I have no—”

  “Three months at least, anyway. And it gives me enough time to understand whatever stupid moral message you’re trying to get across.”

  “Okay, I mean, I was just gonna say for another two weeks. But three months? You’re taking a gamble, for sure. Hey, look, I can tell you’re readying to go, so I was just phoning to see if you wanted to come out Saturday. Just because you’re supposed to be living normally doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a good drink. So, you gonna come?” Kyle asked.

  Zack was hesitant to answer.

  “No strings attached. This isn’t me trying to fool you. Saturday drink. That’s all.”

  “Fine.”

  “See you then.”

  Zack hung up.

  Three months? He could handle that, couldn’t he? But he had to, especially if he was suspicious that something wasn’t entirely playing out right within that department. No wonder he’d lost support from the board and his father branded it as stupid. But never mind that; he had the chance to change that this time around. He just had to make sure everything worked out smoothly. First, announce the plans and ensure planning permission was mission-go from the council he had to visit sometime this week, and then build, secure, and profit. It seemed a legitimate plan. Right?

  ***

  CLAIRE

  She was struggling to concentrate on the figures ahead as her nagging conscience wondered where on earth Zack had been for the last twenty minutes or so. No man needed to use the toilet for that long unless he came in contact with some bad takeaway. Although he could be hiding, considering she was threatening to castrate him for embarrassing her in front of Jason like that earlier on. Or there was option three: Monica. Let’s be honest, she’d suspected it from day one when she’d seen the pair glued next to each other. Not that she would be jealous or anything. Pssf. A kiss was just a kiss. A mere mistake. A foolish frustration that probably proved Darren’s theory of her being very sexually frustrated. No, definitely not that.

  Claire’s ears perked up when she heard a high-pitched giggle sprout from Darren’s direction. Interested, she stood up, leaning over the cubicle to have a look.

  “No, you hang up first.” A low purr penetrated through the chambers of his throat. She arched her brow up, stepping back down before sweeping out of her cubicle and into his.

  “And who was that?” she interrogated, her suspicions growing from the smile growing on his lips.

  “No one,” he softly said, batting his eyelashes as he placed his phone down onto a padded notebook set before him.

  “Darren,” she insisted, “I think I have the right considering you left me at lunch. Now, tell, tell.” She knew those red blushing cheeks weren’t admitting guilt but were meant to show something else.

  “Ah, dang it!” he exhaled. “You win. I didn’t want to tell you yet just in case things weren’t definite. But…fine.” He sounded defeated but not vexed to share as he ushered her in closer. “So, you know that next door neighbour I’ve mentioned?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I could say we’ve met for a coffee date, and I could say we’re moving pretty fast,” he suggested, his cheeks reddening even more as he struggled not to squirm on the spot.

  “What, really?” she buzzed.

  “Yes! Oh, Claire!” he whispered excitedly. “We bumped into each other for real the other day. He’d locked himself out his apartment, so I invited him in, and well, we just hit it off. He’s such a darling. Honestly, I didn’t care if he was gay, but he was so affectionate, flirtatious, and all that jazz,” he explained, and for a split second, he appeared as if his daydreams had swooped him up.

  “Oh, Darren. I’m so glad,” Claire said earnestly, giving him a brief side hug. “And? Did anything happen?”

  “We did kiss. He sort of did that cliché there’s-an-eyelash-under-your-eye before moving in to kiss me. The locksmith came all too soon before things escalated, but I’m glad, because I didn’t just want it to be all about sex. We had been speaking for ages, and I liked his character. Anyway, he gave me his number, and we went for lunch last weekend. I’m sorry I never told you about that, but I didn’t want to tell anyone until I was a hundred percent sure things weren’t going to be a flop. You know? He’d just sleep with me then ignore me. I genuinely like him, though, and we’ve both agreed to take things slow. You forgive me, though?” he said, defensively covering his face with his hand.

  “Oh, shut up. Of course I do. Why would I be mad?” She chuckled. “I’m more than happy for you, Darren. That’s all that matters to me.”

  “Thank God, babes,” he sighed with relief. “I really did not want to be in your bad books. Anyway, I suspect you shall soon reveal that you did indeed sleep with Mr. Handsome-Socks. All in good time.”

  “Oh, ha ha.” Although she had kissed Zack, so there was some truth in that sense.

  It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, nor should it have vexed her when she witnessed Monica curling under Zack’s arm as she playfully tapped the end of his nose near the lifts. Why should she care? She tried to ignore it as she turned her attention to Darren’s work and blatantly attempted to appear interested and helpful as he answered her few questions.

  “Sorry,” Zack said at her desk.

  She turned to face him, begging herself to not appear bothered or aware of Zack’s antics.

  “Just let’s get back to work,” she said, ignoring that she was ticked off that she’d seen him with Monica for the second time now.

  ***

  ZACK

  Bad move. He should have thought twice. It wasn’t exactly smart, but it had been done now. Any idiot could see he’d hooked up with Monica, perhaps, not where, but they could see he had been intoxicated in lust for several minutes, fucking her roughly against a wall. It wasn’t meant to happen, but it did. He liked to think it was bound to happen with the several condoms stashed behind the chunk of credit cards in his wallet.

  Claire still hadn’t breathed a word. She was too busy typing away on the keyboard, looking as if she hadn’t given a thought to where he had been for the last thirty minutes or so.

  At half four, another half hour before clock out, Graves made an announcement just as Zack suspected he would. It didn’t make sense to bore through the details, but essentially it made the department clear that there was another project that the CEO wanted them to focus on instead. It was announced as Project 42. It would be the construction of a housing district, all renewable homes.

  “Wow,” Claire said beside him. “Another one. Let’s hope this doesn’t turn out to be another disaster.”

  “I’m sure it won’t,” he remarked, inwardly hoping there was a pinch of truth to what he said.

  Claire was already shuffling her things together, collecting her pencil case and odd slips of paper as she shoved them into her handbag. He watched with interest as she took out her purse and inspected inside. It was near enough five now, and most of the other colleagues were heading out in small packs.

  “Just so you know, my way of showing some hospitality has expired. And I’m guessing your side of the shelves in the kitchen are still empty. I’m going food shopping now, so if you want to tag along, you’re welcome to,” she said, her interest still glue
d to the inside of her purse.

  Zack swallowed. “Shopping?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t you order it in or—”

  “If I was able to afford a maid or continually afford to get shopping home delivered, I would, but these days, nothing is cheap or free,” she interjected, sliding her purse back into her bag. Claire ran her fingers through her hair as she pushed back the loose strands from out of her face. “I’m starting to suspect that you’ve come from a privileged background,” she added, leaning forward to switch off the computer monitor.

  “Ha ha, you could say that.” He chuckled anxiously as he scratched the back of his head.

  ***

  CLAIRE

  “Okay, let’s see,” she muttered, scanning the contents within the caged trolley. “Wait.” She held her hand out to stop Zack. “Does this look like what I asked for?”

  Zack shrugged his shoulders. “I followed what you said,” he lied, knowing for a fact he rushed towards the aisle and grabbed the nearest packet just so he wouldn’t have to endure this crammed-up space any longer. How on earth people managed, he didn’t have a clue. It was like a stampede around here; the yellowish, pale floor was thick already with footprints and black indented marks from trolley wheels constantly tearing up its track.

  “Since when do the four packets of hula-hoops I asked for look like French fries?” she sighed, grasping them out of the trolley.

  “They’re the same, pretty much, aren’t they?”

  Claire blinked. “Excuse me? No, no, no. Hula-hoops are not the same as French Fries. Are you out of your mind?”

  “They’re just a packet of crisps,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders once again.

  “You’re actually crazy,” she said, shaking her head. “Actually crazy. Remind me to never split the bill with you again. You’re on your own next time. I take this as a personal insult.” She began lightly steering the trolley to the right as he followed her down the aisle and then into another.

  They headed back into the aisle he had hastily entered just moments before. She took no more time as she shoved the packet back into its original position and selected the packet on the shelf above.

  “See? Now, that wasn’t effort, was it?” She rolled her eyes as she placed it into the trolley.

  “Oh, I deeply apologise,” he joked.

  “Idiot,” she hissed.

  Beside her, she heard someone chuckle lightly. Claire hadn’t noticed her at first, but this elderly woman dressed from head to toe in bright florals was confident and friendly enough to intrude, placing a hand on Claire’s arm briefly. “Oh, you two remind me of my husband when we’d ramble on. Newlyweds?” she asked, a harmless smile on her face as two blue eyes inquisitively looked at her own.

  “Ah, ha ha, no—”

  “It’s been a year, hasn’t it, love?” Zack interrupted, intruding Claire’s personal space as he draped his arm loosely around her shoulder.

  “Oh, that’s lovely,” the elderly woman replied, her eyes melting with happiness. “I’ll tell you, it will only get better. Trust me, I’m the expert.”

  Claire couldn’t deprive an old woman’s happiness, so she smiled through her teeth. As soon as the woman had moved out of earshot, Claire turned on her heel and stamped on his right shoe.

  “Son-of-a-frog! What have you got in your shoes, a house brick?” he grumbled as he bent down to console his foot.

  “You’re lucky I hadn’t,” she warned. “No way would I ever marry you.” She watched as he composed himself and stood back up after attempting to rub his fingers across the top of his smart, black shoe.

  “Ouch. I thought we would have made a lovely couple. We’ve got the sexual tension already,” he said, a slight grin on his lips.

  “And that’s where you can fuck off.”

  Chapter Eight

  ZACK

  Just because he couldn’t treat himself to lavish meals, it didn’t mean he would allow himself to slack on exercise. He’d joined one of the local gyms, which left him about two hundred quid in his pocket after paying yesterday’s rent and splitting the bill halfway on shopping. It was rather strange limiting himself to eight hundred every month, but it was just for three months until he was sure the project would be successfully accepted through the board. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been restricted, money-wise. His allowance as a kid was a maximum of £15,000 but was controlled and regulated, so there was that time.

  Beads of sweat lingered on his brow as he jabbed a couple of punches to the red punching bag hooked up from the ceiling. A gym was a gym, so he needed not complain, considering the atmosphere was the same in the upscale one he’d used to attend every week up until now. It was barely six, but he couldn’t sleep. Olivia had emailed him last night notifying him that the local council wanted a meeting in relation to the plot of land he’d secured until construction could begin.

  At around half eight, he’d asked Olivia to electronically clock him in—so at least his false identity wouldn’t get red flagged for absence—and accepted that he would have to rely on Wickes, his personal driver and a close family friend, Kyle’s father in fact, to chauffeur him to the meeting.

  If there was anything he’d desperately missed, it was the sight of a Rolls Royce rolling up to the curb, glistening and edgy. His heart panged with relief. Zack expressed his gratitude as Wickes got out the driver’s side and smoothly opened the backdoor for him.

  “It’s good to see you, Wickes,” Zack confessed, literally bouncing inside with bubbles of excitement.

  “As ever good to see you, Mr. Benson,” he replied as he got into the driver’s seat and took the car out of neutral.

  “I presume you received my message from my PA?” Zack asked, looking to the rear mirror.

  “Yes, she informed me you’d be vacant here and there,” he answered politely, his attention glued to the road as they turned off into a right corner.

  Wickes had been part of the family since his father’s remaining years as CEO before he positioned Zack to take over the business. He was a reliable, honest, and loyal man whom served in the Royal Air Force during his younger years and was awarded for his bravery for protecting a VIP. After that, he’d retired and secluded himself in the countryside, married to his childhood sweetheart and their two children. Unfortunately, things did not go as planned, and sadly Wickes lost his wife in a car accident on the narrow country lanes, leaving him to protect his two children, the only family he had left. Zack’s father, Elijah Benson, met Wickes during his visit to the Lake District; their encounter couldn’t have been more eventful. Wickes had saved his father’s life pushing him away from an oncoming car heading for them both; thankfully, they both made it without a scratch. Since that day, Wickes had been part of the family and his two kids, close in age to Zack and Jared, became the closest of friends. Therefore, it wasn’t surprising that Kyle was Zack’s best friend. Truth was he could get angry with Kyle, could despise his guts at times, but that couldn’t change how much he admired his spirit.

  It must have been twenty minutes before they arrived at their destination. It wasn’t that hard to miss with the derelict land and the crowd of yellow helmets and green visibility jackets safeguarding the site in the centre. The land itself was just a mile out of town, a neighbouring community of spread out, mixed-terraced and semi-detached houses, mostly council owned. The land itself used to hold a factory. To put it into proportion, the land was large enough for an entire football stadium.

  Wickes followed Zack as they took a jacket and helmet each before venturing across the rocky terrain towards the group of council officials. He hadn’t needed to introduce himself, nor did he expect to when he acknowledged a slender, tallish woman with bright purple curly hair. She extended her hand out towards him.

  “Good morning, Mr Benson, I’m Sandra. I believe we’ve spoken on the phone several times,” she introduced herself. She smiled, oblivious that her red lipstick had stained the front of her teeth.
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  “Yes, so, I believe this is just a necessary call to grab details and what not?” he asked, suspicious that her friendly smile deflated little by little. “I’m correct, aren’t I? Everything will remain approved?”

  “Actually, I’m afraid we’re unable to secure this plot of land for you any longer. It appears that local residents aren’t too keen on the local investment, and we’ve received alternative options that would appear more suitable. Of course, this isn’t official yet, and you still have the chance to keep this land, but I’d strongly advise that you reconsider, as residents can form petitions, which would only waste your time and money. We can offer you compensation for the fee already paid to secure the land,” she explained, her smile forced now as she gripped the black clipboard tightly.

  “What?” He frowned. “This is obscene. You said we had approval from the council since day one, especially considering that we’re a private investment. That should be more than enough. And I thought this was confidential towards planning. How on earth have you secured other competitors looking to buy this land?” He was beyond disbelief. He was hoping this was a bad nightmare and he’d wake up.

  She fiddled briefly with her shirt collar. “Mr. Benson, I can only apologise. The council has been pitched on a new shopping centre, which we’ve sampled towards residents, and they agree they’d prefer that to your option.”

  “Really? A shopping centre? Isn’t there bloody enough of them? Do you not understand the effort I’ve implemented to ensure that this project goes forth? I don’t want to hear what you advise,” he said bitterly, “or that I should reconsider my options, because I have already decided that this area would be beneficial for my project. It would also benefit yourselves, what with the housing crisis and threat of global warming.” He was feeling tenser, and that wasn’t because of this morning.