Secrets and Spies

Chapter Six

"I hope that word wasn't aimed at me?" Bella fires back. She's heard me drop the F-bomb before, but only when someone or something had really upset me.

"Sorry," I reply with my hand clamped over my mouth like a naughty schoolboy. "It's nothing to do with work. Just ignore me."

"Don't apologize, please, especially after the drunken voicemail message I left you. I'm embarrassed how many F's I dropped. Alcohol does that to me, unfortunately."

"Me too," I admit and grin. "The demon drink … what would we do without it?"

"Probably end up in therapy … or dead," Bella responds, and then she realizes what she's said. "Sorry … I didn't mean …"

"Forget it," I reply. "You don't need to pussyfoot around me. My emotions are all over the place at the moment so I'll probably be a moody bastard for the next few weeks, or months, or years. Just ignore me if I'm a grouch."

Bella smiles sympathetically as she walks over to me.

"No, I won't ignore you. If you feel down I'm a good listener. If you want to talk, or shout, or scream about your dad, I'm always around."

"Why would you want to hear about my dad?" I snap back as I'm immediately suspicious of her motives. My hostile reaction is uncalled for though, and rude if she's genuine. Bella picks up on my tone of voice and frowns.

"If he was anything like you, I am interested. But if you don't want to talk about him but just want somebody to get drunk with, I'm your man."

"Ha!" I exclaim, trying to lighten the mood. "You drink like a guy, do ya!"

"I could drink you under the table anytime," Bella replies with a superior smirk.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Possibly. Anyway, the offer's there. I won't mention it again."

Bella walks back to her desk and prods her computer into life. "You ready to talk business or are you still being a moody bastard?"

"Business is fine."

"Okay, wheel your butt over here and I'll go through what's been happening to your business in the last two weeks."

I push my chair over to Bella's desk and for the next hour and a half, we go through the current projects. Bella updates me on progress in the design and development stage on all the old and new commissions. She'd also prepared a comprehensive file detailing recent inquiries we'd received in the last two weeks, including how far she'd got with initial surveys including photographs and her first impressions.

"That's great, Bella," I say as I'm genuinely bowled over by what she's dealt with while I was away and lay on praise thickly to compensate for being offhand. "You're very efficient compared to Laura. She was a great designer but her organizational skills were dire compared to yours."

"Thanks for the compliment," Bella responds as she relaxes against the back of her chair and plays with her hair which is distracting.

"I suppose I am a bit obsessive/compulsive with paperwork," she muses. "I like to record everything straight away and can't function efficiently unless everything is written down. Computers are fine for some things, but you can't beat a pen and a scrap of paper. One day the whole world will come to a screaming halt when a tiny bug crashes the internet and then where will we all be? Totally fu….. screwed!"

I nod my head in agreement as dad predicted this scenario as a distinct possibility and to have it in the back of my mind when using the computer.

"How much do you know about computer technology?" I ask, trying to make the question sound innocent. I'm fishing for clues and wonder whether Bella will pick up on this.

"Not much really. I've never really been interested in learning beyond what I need for my work. I like computer games though."

"Do you?" I reply enthusiastically.

"Oh yeah. I was one of the first in line when the latest Black Ops came out."

"How long did you take to master it?"

"Less than two days."

"Two days! It took me over two weeks."

"Yeah, but I wasn't working then. I was on it 24/7."

"Jesus! Your eyes must've been out on stalks."

"Yep! My caffeine intake went through the roof as well."

"How big is your screen?"

"Massive. What you got?"

"48."

"Pathetic. Mine's 70; mounted on the wall as well, with surround sound."

"I'm paying you too much."

"I got it a few months ago. I blew my bonus ….."

Bella stops mid-sentence; her mouth noticeably clamping shut. My guess is she's realized she's giving me too much information and I immediately tense up. My mind works rapidly as I don't want her to suspect I'm on to her if she's a spy. I'll have to diffuse the situation and make light of her gaffe.

"Some employer? Sorry, Bella, you won't be getting that sort of bonus here so you might as well stop hoping now."

"Yeah yeah," she giggles shrugging her shoulders. "Worth a try though?"

"Hmmm," I respond lightly and wave her away.

"So, you coming to the hotel this afternoon?" Bella asks as I push my chair back to my desk.

"Yeah, I'll come along and I'll drive. That rust bucket of yours'll never make it."

"Don't you diss my truck, boss."

"I'm stating a fact. That wreck might be safe driving through town. I doubt if it'll make it up a one in eight."

"Bullshit!" she exclaims indignantly. "I'll take the offer of a ride though. I noticed the clutch was slipping a couple of days ago so that needs fixing. Jasper's going in the Jeep because he wants to visit another job on the way back if he can. If you take me it'll save time not going with him."

"Okay. Two o'clock?"

"Yep … I'll tell Jasper now."

Bella strolls out of the office and disappears, leaving me to revisit our conversation. Am I being paranoid, or did Bella clam up when talking about her bonus, and if so why? Also, she'd offered to be a friendly ear if I wanted to talk about dad, which could mean she's after information. But would I do the same for her, or for anyone else if something awful happened to them? Offering a shoulder to cry on or to listen empathetically while a friend unloads their grief is a natural thing to do. Well, it is for me.

Bella also said … and I try to remember her exact words … if he was anything like you, I'm interested, but what did she mean by that? Is she interested in me as a guy, a boss, a person, or something more?

I lean over to the metal filing cabinet nearest my desk and unlock the drawer which contains Bella's resume and other personal details. Keeping one eye on the door and both ears alert, I quickly look through the names of the companies she'd worked for previously and the college where she took her design course. They all look bona fide, and her references from each company are exemplary. The copy of her college certificate looks authentic too but I'm minded to do a more thorough check on her when I get home.

I know how to delete searches from my computer history even though dad warned me repeatedly that every time you touch a keyboard it leaves a trace somewhere. I use my cell to take pictures of each page before replacing the file in the drawer and locking it. I'll check the sources of her references using my laptop at home. I feel like I'm pretending to be James Bond, sleuthing in a smart tuxedo. Only I'm not James Bond. I'm just a confused, sometimes scared, and totally out of his depth young guy who's searching for answers, yet hasn't got the first clue where to look, what questions to ask, or whose door to knock on first.

I spend the next few hours dealing with paperwork, making phone calls and drinking copious amounts of coffee, before focussing my attention on the project Bella and I are visiting this afternoon. The hotel is a run-down, old-fashioned mansion-style building situated in the mountains which is currently being converted into a luxurious retreat and spa for wealthy clients from cities like LA or San Francisco. In other words, a first-class facility that will cater for the type of people who are ready to spend a fortune on re-charging their batteries in a haven of peace and tranquillity, only for them to return a week later to the same world that had wound them up in the first place.

I'd been invited to bid for this commission through word of mouth recommendation, which is how I find the majority of my business. When I moved permanently to Denver in 2008, dad's contacts in the Tech world helped me make a name for myself in the area and I'm humble enough to admit I wouldn't be anywhere near as successful without this initial leg-up.

Many escapee geniuses from Silicon Valley have summer and winter homes in Colorado ranging in size from cabins like the one I live in, to vast, sprawling lodges worth millions. I soon realized some of these Tech entrepreneurs were asking me to quote as a favor to dad. I took full advantage though as I would've been a fool not to, and made a reasonably good living as a one-man operation.

Once I'd successfully completed my first few notable landscaping projects where I'd employed sub-contractors to do the heavy work, my name and reputation grew quickly. More prestigious and lucrative contracts not connected to dad began to come my way and I knew I had to expand and take on staff. In 2011, three years after moving to Colorado, The Yard became more than a one-man operation when Jake became a permanent employee rather than being the person I would call for cash-in-hand work when I needed it. The others followed fairly quickly and we were a happy six until Laura arrived.

I took on Laura eighteen months ago after admitting to myself I couldn't keep up with the garden design part of The Yard's business. This is easily the most profitable area and also the most enjoyable for me. Even though I love being out in the gardens, my creative gift, which I probably inherited from mom and dad, really came to the fore, and my designs were gaining attention further afield.

Because of my success as a designer, Jake, Jasper and Emmett, who between them take over the construction aspects of the projects once a contract has been won, only work on about ten percent of my designs. The rest are sold as plans directly to clients who often reside a long way from Denver. The client would pass my design on to whichever construction company they chose to use to build the garden and I would act as a consultant until the project was complete. Laura took over initial designs of small gardens and corporate sites, while I concentrated on designing the prestigious gardens of wealthy or famous residents, plus a number of golf courses, several hotels, and other random sites where a client asked for something 'off the wall'.

The Yard's reputation has now spread further than Colorado, even though my aim has always been to keep the company small. I hadn't planned to employ as many people as I do now because, like mom and dad, I've never aspired to corporate life. A family-sized firm is as much as I'm prepared to consider so six well-paid employees plus myself, is big enough. I sub-contract for large earth-moving projects and major landscaping, only their employees are someone else's responsibility, not mine.

I turn my attention to the pictures of the hotel I'd taken when Jasper and I first visited the site about two months ago after the last snow on the lower slopes had melted. I thought I'd taken enough photographs then, only Bella says she wants more. She took over the project when I left for San Francisco two weeks ago and my initial drawings are now covered by tiny yellow post-it notes; her scribbled suggestions dotted like confetti all over the A1 size sheets.

Being totally vain and a borderline control freak, normally I would bristle when Laura did this as I don't take criticism of my designs well, even constructive criticism. It soon becomes obvious though that Bella has been kissed by the same creative fairy as me because when I examine her comments on the design, I'm delighted to see they are enhancements of my ideas rather than changes. She understands what my aim is without me having to explain my vision for the site, like I used to have to do with Laura, and this is a total revelation to me.

I really want to believe I'm being paranoid about Bella being some sort of spy. I can't help grinning though when I imagine the recruitment process to find someone to extract information from me. Hiring someone to be a 'plant' in a 'gardening' company, is hysterical when I think about it. What are the chances they, whoever 'they' are, could find someone with her skills to slide into my company unnoticed, and what sort of information would they be asking her to find out? The whole scenario seems ridiculous, but it still won't stop me from being cautious.

I grab my cigarettes and make my way out to the front yard for a smoke. Mitzi is fast asleep in her basket which isn't surprising as Emmett implied she'd been awake most of the night whining, so she's probably exhausted.

Emmett is loading the back of his pick-up with rolls of turf at the same time chatting to Rosalie who is practically hanging out of the office window. I can hear Alice singing to herself, while Jasper, who I can see through the window at his desk, is beaming from ear to ear. I'm happy that they're happy, and briefly I feel a twang of jealousy as I really want what they obviously have in abundance.

I'd been content with Laura even though I knew from the start of our relationship it wasn't going to be long term. We were both scratching an itch and that suited us at the time. When Laura was headhunted for a job in England with the Royal Horticultural Society, she jumped at the chance and was off without a backward glance. Neither of us shed any tears when she departed with only two days' notice and Laura actually admitted to Alice she felt sadder leaving Mitzi than me. Ah well!

Glancing at my watch I work out there's still forty-five minutes to kill before leaving for the hotel. This gives me time to walk to the nearby Deli to get some lunch. I'd usually take Mitzi with me when I go out but she's dead to the world, so I leave her snoring on her cushion and no doubt dreaming of being home again in her endless back yard.

Setting off on foot down the long, straight street, it's good to be out in the fresh air rather than the over-chilled atmosphere of my air-conditioned office. The temperature is pleasantly warm, and already I feel invigorated now the sun is on my back.

The Yard sits on the edge of an industrial park in Lakewood which is on the west side of Denver between the city and the mountains. Even though Lakewood is a busy, built-up suburb, it's a different world compared to the teeming streets and towering monoliths that make up San Francisco. Low-rise Lakewood is as much 'urban' as I can cope with and as long as it doesn't change too much, I'll be happy to stay here forever.

The best Deli in Colorado, in my opinion, is three blocks away and I'm eagerly looking forward to my favorite sandwich made up with chunky slices of sourdough bread buttered twice, a thick slice of rare roast beef covered by a scraping of hot mustard, on top of a pile of rocket and cucumber. My mouth is already salivating at the thought of it as I enter the shop and join the queue.

The owner, Carlo, spots me immediately and comes out from behind the counter to give me an Italian-style all-embracing hug.

"Eduardo," he gushes. "I'm so sorry about your papa. Maria showed me the news. It's so tragic."

"Thank you, Carlo," I reply politely, wondering how on earth he's connected me to dad. "His death was a shock, but I'm glad to be home. I've missed my friends, but most of all I've missed my favorite Deli."

Carlo chuckles and hugs me again before returning to his bench behind the counter to make my sandwich. He doesn't even bother to ask what I want. A few minutes later I leave the Deli with my awesome lunch in a bag and a smile on my face. I wouldn't get that sort of welcome in San Francisco where the servers work so fast they don't have time to look you in the eye. This is another reason why I love it here. Life is so much slower; like walking back to an age where people had time for one another.

As I look down the endless street to where The Yard is situated in the distance, I spot a girl with long brown hair and a gray jacket diving into a shop doorway. The air temperature must be nearing eighty degrees in the shade so why the hell has she come out wearing a leather jacket? I only get a fleeting glance so I'm not a hundred percent certain it's her. Even so, I keep my eyes fixed on the shop door as I approach and nobody enters or leaves.

The small general store is empty apart from an elderly couple at the checkout. I can't spot anyone else lurking in the aisles, so where has Bella or her lookalike gone? I wait for about twenty seconds and then carry on walking; wondering whether I'd been hoping to see her and my eyes were playing tricks on me.

When I get back to The Yard I look around for Bella in the offices and outside in the storage areas, only she's nowhere to be found, which makes me even more suspicious. Emmett calls me into the front yard to sign for a delivery of bark chippings before returning to my office where Bella is now sitting at her desk staring at her screen while nonchalantly eating a Snickers bar and drinking a can of Diet Coke.

"Go in ten?" she suggests without looking at me directly.

"Sure," I respond. "I was looking for you. Where were you?"

"Ladies room … it's a long drive up there," she replies unconcernedly.

"Right," I reply flatly. "I'll eat this and we'll go."

"You okay?"

"Yes, why?"

"Your voice sounds odd … like you've had a shock or something. Are you sure you want to come along or is it too soon?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yep!"

"O…kay" she replies slowly as though she isn't convinced. "D'ya want coffee before you go?"

"Nope!"

Bella spins in her chair and looks straight at me.

"Are you pissed at me for some reason? Didn't you like my suggestions on the design? Is that it?"

"Your suggestions are good."

"Then what is it? If you don't tell me, you can drive up there on your effing own. I'd rather follow in my shitty truck or go with Jasper. I get you warned me you'd be a moody bastard, but I'm not sitting next to you for an hour getting the silent treatment or one-word answers. So is it me, or is it your dad, or is it something else?"

I open my mouth to respond only I don't know what to say to her. Admittedly, I'm not used to being fronted up by an employee, although I'm actually enjoying being berated by indignant flashing-eyes Bella, incandescent with fury. Even Mitzi, who has just woken up, is intrigued why Bella has raised her voice. She grumbles then barks at her for disturbing her slumber.

It's up to me to diffuse the situation. This means inventing a plausible excuse for why I've been off-hand again. My last conversation with Yorkie will have to do.

"Sorry, I've just had a text from the police. They claim they've sent the remains of dad's car to the auto wreckers. I asked for the chassis to be returned to me but they can't trace it. The car is a classic. Even the parts that survived are worth a fortune. Either they've been unbelievably incompetent or I'm being ripped off."

"Shit. That's awful," Bella replies and gets up from her chair. "Look, I'm sorry for having a go but I'm one of those people that get pissed easily when people aren't upfront with me. I'd rather folks tell me if I've done something wrong rather than scowl or sulk, so apologies if I got the wrong end of the stick."

"That's okay. I told you earlier I'm sick of everyone creeping around me, trying not to upset me. Your feistiness is very welcome."

Bella grins then wanders back to her desk and begins pushing papers into her purse.

"I'll remind you of that when we're disagreeing in the future."

"I look forward to it," I reply and mean it. Bella's feisty attitude is turning me on big time, and I'm becoming more attracted to her every second. She's like a young colt that hasn't been bridled yet, only I doubt whether there's a man on earth who could control her, not that I'd ever want to. I find that very exciting.

I devour my sandwich piece by exquisite piece while ignoring the longing stares Mitzi is giving me. I'm doing her a favor though. If I tossed her some of the beef she would spit it out in disgust when she tasted the mustard. Once Mitzi is convinced her wicked master has eaten every crumb, she growls her displeasure and wanders off to see if there's anything going spare in Alice and Rosalie's office.

Ten minutes later Bella and I are on the road. Jasper sets off first in his Jeep and we're following not far behind in my midnight blue Shogun with the company logo on the side. I know the way to the hotel without having to rely on the GPS so when Jasper makes the lights and we have to stop at a red, I'm not bothered when Jasper disappears into the distance. During the journey, we chat about the new projects she's already investigated and work out which to prioritize. Her knowledge further cements my confidence in her and I'm relieved on both a professional and personal level.

We head north to join the 70 traveling west until we turn onto the 103 towards Mount Evans. Roughly three miles later we turn off the highway onto a narrow country road that leads uphill through the forest. About a mile further the trees thin out and the hotel, which still looks like a building site at first glance, comes into view.

Jasper's Jeep is parked at the edge of the woodland on a piece of rough ground being used as a temporary parking lot. Jasper jumps out as I pull up next to him and we help him unload the equipment he needs. Together we walk up the steep hill to the security fence which surrounds the imposing mansion-styled property where we're stopped by security. After explaining who we are and showing identification, we're given hard hats to wear and escorted onto the site.

"I look like one of the Village People," Jasper jokes as he tries to get his hat to fit.

"Mine looks ridiculous," Bella grumbles as hers is much too big and wobbles on her tiny head.

"Stop moaning," I respond while trying to look serious. "We need to look professional," I add, only I can't help grinning as the top half of her face has disappeared under the hat.

"If you laugh at me I'm going back to the car," she hisses.

I nod my head and set off quickly so I'm walking two paces in front of her so she can't see that I'm cracking up.

"I'm off to get the soil samples," Jasper announces as we approach the hotel. He peels off right towards the gardens shouting, "I'll meet you back here in about an hour, okay?"

"Okay," Bella and I reply in unison and continue walking towards the building.

"What do you want to take photos of?" I ask as we near the main entrance. I'm still wondering why we're here as I'd taken images of every inch of the grounds when I first visited the site at the beginning of April. Bella turns around to look at the view looking east before launching into why.

"Now that the construction's nearly finished and most of the scaffolding's down, I'd like to get in the building to take pictures of the view from inside the rooms. Windows are similar to picture frames. You should treat them like a painting on the wall. Before deciding where shrubs and trees should be planted, we need to see what the guests will be looking at from eye-level when they're relaxing by the windows.

What Bella explains in a few short sentences stops me in my tracks. I've never considered this when designing a landscape as I've always imagined the client seeing the whole panorama at once, usually when they are outside. I now feel totally inept in Bella's presence as she's way ahead of me in the imagination stakes. I'm beginning to accept that Bella is also an artist, rather than simply a landscaper. I'm also starting to acknowledge that if we can continue working as a team, our future designs will be incredible.

"Great idea," I mutter in agreement as we step into what is obviously going to be a plush reception area, although every inch of the floor and most of the walls are covered by lethally slippery plastic sheeting.

I end up being nothing more than Bella's assistant; carrying her heavy bag containing some pretty impressive photographic equipment from room to room. She takes numerous shots through every window and from different angles, including all the room numbers as we leave so she'd know when we get back which photos are which.

"You're unbelievable," I comment as Bella points out what she's envisaging from one of the bedroom windows. She laughs when I say this and play-punches me in the arm.

"My mom's a landscape artist so I grew up surrounded by her paintings. She isn't very famous, unfortunately, although she's managed to make a good living from copying photographs that clients send her and turning them into works of art on canvas. She has a wonderful eye and draws out colors I wouldn't have spotted in the photographs she works from. Most of her clients are of Irish descent, and when they've been back to the old country, sometimes for their first and only time, they want a painting to remind them of the village where their ancestors came from. I never realized how many different shades of green there were until I watched her painting. I'd like to go there one day to see the country for myself."

"What does your dad do?" I ask. Bella has never talked about her family before so I grab the opportunity.

"Charlie's a cop. They're divorced but get on okay."

"A cop?" I exclaim as this is not what I was expecting.

"Yup! Chief of Police no less; so no weed for me until I left home. Charlie has bloodhound in his DNA and can smell it a hundred yards away."

"Shit!" I choke. "Surely if your friends ….."

"Oh yeah; I constantly came home reeking of it. He trusted me though. To be honest I didn't try it while I lived at home; I wouldn't've wanted to embarrass him if I got caught. Now it's legal here I can puff without a guilty conscience."

I grin at this as dad had also been strict about cigarettes, alcohol, and anything illicit when I was at High School. He was mad when I started smoking at college and asked me many times to stop.

"Parents, eh!" I remark philosophically.

Bella laughs in agreement. "I'm sure we'll be the same when we both have kids. I guess something happens to prospective parents in the delivery room. You go in as a rebel and come out a sensible adult; and with a baby of course."

I smile at a memory of mom telling me exactly that, explaining when I was grown up I would understand why she imposed boundaries on what I could or couldn't do. These discussions usually happened while I was having a tantrum after not getting my own way which unfortunately was a regular occurrence. Dad kept a fairly firm grip on me after mom died as there were numerous temptations to go off the rails in San Francisco due to the generally laid back attitude of the residents. Flower Power for instance is still very evident in certain parts of the city with Sue being the poster girl of her generation. Catching me sharing a joint with Sue was awkward and the only time dad and Sue ever argued. I was twenty-eight at the time.

As Bella continues taking photos, I watch her while she's working and I'm mesmerized by the way she moves. She skips lightly across the slippery floors; her slight frame hardly making an impact on the scrunched up plastic. But there's something in the way she carries herself which gives me the impression she's disguising physical strength and tenacity underneath her delicate exterior. If she is only masquerading as a genuine employee, the camouflage is brilliant. But if she isn't who she says she is, who the hell is she?

"You finished?" I ask as she unscrews the lens from the camera.

"Almost," she replies. "I want to get a few more long-range shots outside and then we can go."

I follow her out the building onto a newly laid sandstone patio from where there is an incredible view of the surrounding mountains and forests. I'll never tire of looking at a new view of the Rockies, especially on a day like today when the snow-topped peaks are bathed in sunshine set against a periwinkle sky.

The pristine landscape behind the hotel contrasts markedly with the neglected, rubble-strewn garden, which drops away in gently sloping terraces until it reaches a totally flat green space, longer and wider than a football field at least fifty feet below. This uncultivated meadow is bordered on three sides by a wall of dense conifers that stretch without a break until the forest disappears in the haze. I have a great idea for this space only I have a feeling my client won't like it. I haven't mentioned it to Bella either. I'll wait for the right moment.

As I gaze at the blank canvas before me where I'll soon be leaving my mark, I feel the thrill of excitement I always experience at the start of every project, and even more so now I have Bella working alongside me.

Bella is rummaging in her photographic bag and eventually pulls out an impressive telescopic lens which she deftly fixes to the body of her digital camera. She hands the bag to me and puts the camera up to her eye, supporting the heavy lens with one hand as a professional photographer would do. After fiddling with the lens until she's happy she starts taking shots, slowly panning from the left side of the site to the right.

When the lens is pointing in the direction of the parking lot she stops clicking. I hear her take a sharp intake of breath and for a few seconds after it as though she's stopped breathing altogether.

"What is it?" I ask while staring in the same direction as the lens, trying to see what she's spotted. I can't see anything on the ground like a mountain lion or an elk. Whatever she's seen must be in the trees.

"I'm not sure," she whispers. "Just act as though everything's normal."

I'm unclear how to react to that suggestion so I fiddle about with her bag for a while before taking my cigarettes from my pocket and lighting one. I pace up and down the patio as Bella's camera clicks in rapid succession until she lowers the camera and turns towards me."

"We're being watched," she says as she unscrews the lens and places it carefully inside the bag. "They're at least two guys in the trees by the parking lot with either a camera or binoculars. I saw a glint of light reflected off a lens that gave them away. They dived into the trees when I turned the camera in their direction. I'm sure they're still watching us but not with binoculars."

Glancing at the clump of trees, all I can see are sturdy trunks and dense foliage. My eyesight is good so whoever Bella saw must either be very well camouflaged or they've retreated out of sight.

Bella picks up her bag and heads for the hotel without saying anything more. I follow her across the patio and through a set of double doors leading into what will eventually be a sumptuous lounge. My legs feel weak and my stomach is clenched. I'm reacting in the same way as I did after the SUV incident last night. Bella turns towards me no doubt expecting me to say something only I can't. My tongue has welded itself to the roof of my mouth. I need to show her that I'm strong, but for the second time since reading dad's written warning, the cold hand of fear is resting on my shoulder.

Yikes!

What is Edward going to do now? Bella seems calm, but why did she clam up about her bonus? Hmmm.

Next time, Edward is in a dilemma about putting his colleagues at risk if there are nasty people around. Will he be tempted to spill to some or all of them - that is the question!

Joan xx