Angela slipped a pile of paperwork onto the desk blotter. Then pointed at the signature field on the back page. ‘You just need to sign here and here, and I’ll get it back to Contracts.’
Xanthe picked up the gold pen she used to sign all her deals. Then hesitated, her mind foggy with fatigue and confusion. ‘Remind me again—what’s the Calhoun deal?’
She heard Angela’s intake of breath.
When her PA finally spoke, her voice was heavy with concern. ‘It’s the deal you’ve been working on for three months...to invest in a new terminal in Belfast.’
Xanthe wrote her signature, the black ink swimming before her eyes, the tears threatening anew.
Good Lord, why couldn’t she stop going over the same ground, reanalysing everything Dane had said and done? Trying to find an excuse to contact him again?
This was pathetic. She was pathetic.
The intercom on her desk buzzed. She clicked it on as Angela gathered up the documents and began putting them back into the file. ‘Yes, Clare?’ she said, addressing the new intern Angela had been training all week.
‘There’s a gentleman here to see you, Miss Carmichael. He says he has some papers for you. He’s very insistent. Can I send him in?’
‘Tell him to leave them outside.’ She clicked off the intercom. ‘Could you handle it, whatever it is, Angela? I think I’m going home.’
‘Of course, Miss Carmichael.’
But as Angela opened the door Xanthe’s head shot up at the low voice she could hear outside her office, arguing with the intern. Her mind blurred along with her vision at the sight of Dane striding into her office.
‘Excuse me, sir, you can’t come in here. Miss Car—’
‘The hell I can’t.’
He walked past Angela, who was trying and failing to guard the doorway.
‘We need to talk, Red.’
Xanthe stood up, locking her knees when her legs refused to cooperate. A surge of heat twisted with a leap of joy, making her body feel weightless. She buried it deep. Shock and confusion overwhelmed her when he marched to the desk, his muscular body rippling with tension beneath a light grey designer suit and crisp white shirt.
‘What are you doing here?’
Hadn’t she made it clear she never wanted to see him again? Couldn’t he respect at least one of her wishes? She couldn’t say goodbye all over again—it wasn’t fair.
Pulling a bunch of papers from the inside pocket of his suit, he slapped them down on the desk. ‘I’ve come to tell you I’m not signing these.’
‘Shall I call Security?’ Angela asked, her face going red.
If only it could be th
at simple.
‘That’s okay, Angela.’
‘I’m her husband,’ Dane growled at the same time.
Angela’s face grew redder. ‘Excuse me...?’
‘I’ll handle this,’ Xanthe reiterated. Somehow she would find the strength to kick him out of her life again. ‘Please leave and shut the door.’
The door closed behind her PA as heat she didn’t want to feel rushed all over her body and her heart clutched tight in her chest. She glanced down at the crumpled papers. Their divorce papers. The ones she’d tried to make him sign to protect her company.
‘If you’ve quite finished bullying my staff, maybe you’d like to explain to me why you found it necessary to come barging in here to tell me something I already know.’
She’d had new papers drawn up as soon as she’d returned. Papers without the codicil.