I never thought the private client Jude told me he'd booked in today would be the model, socialite, and activist Flora Hamill. I do my best to serve her, pouring her a glass of champagne and warming an almond croissant up while she speaks to Jude about tickets her father is gifting him for the Grand Prix finals in Singapore next month.
What if he knows about the baby by then? Soon, my body will change, and places will grow bigger, making this secret harder to hide. After learning that Jude doesn't have a girlfriend, I mulled it over last night and decided I have to come clean by the first scan.
I owe him that much.
It feels disgusting to rob him of that moment, whether he wants it or not.
Flora laughs at Jude, who doesn't look too excited by her, in all honesty.
"I hope you warmed it for six minutes like I asked. It looks burnt, and it's hard to burn pastry," she says as soon as I put the plate in front of her.
I hover momentarily, biting back a snarky response at her disgusted look.
"Please, can you sort those papers in my office now, Imogen?" Jude's saving me. Or Flora from my impending acidity. Maybe both.
I nod gratefully and rush off. The office code is saved on my phone, and the keycard hangs from the lanyard around my neck. Two swipes, three attempts to use the key code, and the alarm starts blaring. I rush to try to silence it, knowing it's got to be loud for them in reception, too, but my slowness has caused the system to double lock.
"Everything okay?" Jude shouts.
"I wasn't quick enough. I'm sorry!"
He moves in front of me, pressing buttons while I take a few steps back, covering my ears when the siren noise threatens to burst my eardrums. The noise carries on, and it feels like forever before it eventually stops.
"My ears are still ringing," I say, following Jude into his office.
He laughs. "I wanted it to blow the ears off of whoever decided to rob me."
"Well, mission accomplished," I laugh back.
Jude takes his time with something at his desk, so I head to the filing cabinet to search for the invoice. Luckily, I put them all in date order, so I grab the file with the correct month and carry it to the desk.
I'm too engrossed in searching the files to notice Jude leave the room, but I see he has at some point when I say I've found the invoice out loud. I search for him, wanting to get the information to him as soon as possible, slowing at the sultry sounds of Flora's voice.
"Let me take you out for drinks later," Flora is saying, long, lean leg on display under the floral dress she's wearing.
Jude shakes his head. "I don't mix business with pleasure. Never will and never have, so I'll have to decline."
She hums a sexy sound. "News around the city is you do."
"Rumours are carried by haters," he's quick to talk back.
Is he quoting Paulo Coelho?
"Are you calling me a fool?" she responds, obviously familiar with the words.
Rumours are carried by haters, accepted by fools, and spread by idiots.
Jude shakes his head. "Not at all. I'm just letting you know my private life is not as exciting as people like to make out."
"You have needs. It's not like you have a girlfriend, do you?" she responds, fluffing out her bouncy brown curls.
Jude's eyebrows furrow. "I'm not sure it's any of your business if I did."
Flora pretends to itch her calf to draw attention to it. It works as Jude's eyes slide down there. "I know you hook up with Vivienne. Why not me? I'll make it good."
Unlike Jude, I'm not swayed by her powers, able to watch her as she practically eats him alive with her stunning gaze. When he makes no comment, she carries on talking, crushing my soul some more.
"What about Vivienne had you coming back for more?"
Christ above. I just calmed my nerves about Brittney, and now there's a Vivienne?
Jude's professionalism slips when he steps forward rather intimidatingly. "End of discussion. Please stop it, you're making me uncomfortable."
Flora folds her arms over her chest, testing him with her sexy smile. "Noted. You know the offer is there as you will change your mind. I'm good with my mouth, and word is you make people scream."
I push off from the wall where I was resting, striding in with a pissed-off pace. They both notice me, Jude's face falling once he sees me. I can barely look at the tall woman who's now standing from the desk seat.
I can't believe she thinks it's okay to proposition him so crudely when he's made it clear he's not at all interested in her. The papers in my hands settle close to Jude, who picks them up, still holding my gaze.
"Being a woman, I expected better. No means no, no matter your gender," I say to him, loud enough for her to hear.
I pick up my cup and take a long sip from the straw, holding Flora's eye the entire time. The cool water is wonderfully refreshing, but my body burns. I keep it semi-professional on the outside, but on the inside? Oh, boy, I'm committing a crime right now.
"I think it's best you go someplace else to get your car fixed," I say without thinking, wiping my mouth with some tissue.
Okay, so that was a mistake.
My stomach sinks as soon as I catch sight of Jude's face. A ten foot wall slides between us as he slips on his professional mask to motion Flora outside, letting her know he'll sort something out with her car later.
I give him my best apology when he steps back in here after Flora leaves. "I stepped way over the line. I'm very sorry."
Jude stares. "I appreciate you sticking up for me, but Flora's father is a mega client of ours. It's clients like those we need to keep this business going. Please don't ever do that again, Imogen."
"I won't," I whisper, hating how the little rapport we were building feels tarnished now. "You have my word."
Jude is busy chewing on his cheek, not in the mood to answer me, and that's okay. I can't imagine he's feeling good right now and I clearly frustrated him. I keep quiet, giving him space as I enter the email inbox to answer the crazy amount of requests that have built up since yesterday.
"I need you to stop using the silly colours in your emails, too. I had a few complaints. Our colours are grey, red and black, okay?" he says, switching fences.
I nod, looking over at him. "I didn't realise it would offend people. I thought I could customise it."
"Yeah, well, you can't. This is a professional establishment, goddamnit." And he's striding out of the door.
Right, well, that's told me.
I go to my email settings to change the colours to the ones he wants to use, feeling silly and quite embarrassed to know clients have been so upset that they contacted him. It's not like he doesn't have enough stress on top of everything else.
When he passes by the window, greeting another client when they arrive, I see the switch in him.
He smiles, a fake one, and it doesn't reach his eyes.
***
Margot senses my black mood as soon as I get into her car the next day. After the run-in with Flora, Jude slipped into hard boss mode and got on my back about everything until closing time, when he barely said goodbye.
And today he's been off the grid with meetings away from Protech, so I haven't been able to put things right.
"I have loads of stuff in that bag for you. It's stuff I bought this month and hated," she says, pointing to the Selfridges bag near my feet.
I reach down, spotting a lot of products. "Oh wow, babe, are you sure? Don't you want money for them?"
She practically hisses. "I don't want a penny. Just use them."
"I don't deserve you," I say, and she laughs, pulling out to drive us to the town hall.
Margot is joining me at Little Performers this evening. While I teach, she volunteered to do some face painting, a talent she picked up from her work experience with a party company. It's a bit of fun and every child going tonight has signed up.
"Is that Jude going into CrossFit?" she asks, parking outside the business building, pressing the button on her keys to pop the boot when I climb out of the car.
"Yeah," I reply. There's a cap backwards on his head, a gym bag slung over his shoulder as he speaks to a guy at the warehouse door.
Margot collects her makeup case while I get my bags. "I would have thought he would use that exclusive private gym in the city. All the wealthy people do. I saw Tom Holland coming out of there the other day. I waited around hoping Zendaya would follow him out, but she didn't."
We make our way down the cobbled pathway, the scent of freshly cut grass consuming me. It's a heavenly scent. The sky grey and miserable as the kids line up at the entrance, greeted by a member of staff doing the register.
We slip in the back way, Margot gapping at the architecture on the tall ceilings.
"How old is this place?" she asks, holding back as I unlock my classroom.
"Centuries, probably," I say, distracted by my phone, which pings with a message from the teacher group chat. "Hold up. I need to go to the reception."
"Okay," Margot says, barely getting the chance to speak before I rush off.
When I get there, Rosie is crying in her mum's arms, a couple girls walking away with irritating smirks on their faces. An irrational amount of anger floods me without even knowing the situation. Julie throws me a grateful smile once she catches sight of me, Rosie looking up when she nudges her.
"What happened?" I ask Shona, the costume tutor, picking Rosie up and hugging her when she clings to me.
She sighs. "Those girls are from Winfield Academy. They were making fun of the kids for being here."
"What? They look way older than the kids here." I say and Shona agrees. They look like teenagers.
"I'm going to have a word," I say, ignoring everyone who tells me to leave it when I let Julie take Rosie back.
I'm feeling angry and protective, needing those girls to know not to pick on our kids again.
"Excuse me, wait up," I shout, causing them both to stop talking. The blonde girl gives me a look over her shoulder before snorting out a laugh. They ignore me. "I said to wait!"
There's something threatening enough in my voice to make them stop. They're tiny things and I tower over them, but they couldn't give any less of a care. I make sure to keep my distance.
"Do you think it's okay to pick on little kids?" I ask, boiling on the inside at the blonde girl who mimics me. I do well to keep calm. "You never come here again, do you hear me?"
The brunette speaks up. "It's a free country! We can go where we want, you stupid bitch."
I struggle to hold in my gasp. "Do you kiss your mum with that mouth?"
"I don't speak to my mum, you loser," she replies, turning to laugh with her friend. "We hang out here all the time. Not our problem, those freaks are so sensitive. They're pathetic!"
My body visibly shakes to contain my temper. I'm about to lose it. "You horrible little girl. Get lost!"
Okay, so stooping to their level isn't a smart idea, but this brat is about to get it.
The blonde girl gives me a dirty look. "You need to go back to your special kids and leave us alone."
In my anger, I spot Daniel eying me with a slightly panicked expression when he climbs out of his car to make his way over the road. The spitting of rain causes him to remove his shades, putting them in his suit pocket. This gives them the opportunity to throw me off by jumping in front of me, acting like they're about to push me over.
"You okay?" Daniel asks me, sending the two girls a frown, probably having heard everything.
"This your husband?" They both mimic, cackling afterwards when Daniel jumps in to protect me by inserting himself in between us. "I'm bored, Jess, let's go."
"This bitch," the blonde, who I now know is called Jess, says really loudly, making her friend laugh. But then both of them come to a sharp, sudden stop.
There's five men standing in the CrossFit warehouse doorway, Jude making his way over here.
He doesn't look pleased at all.
His eyes are dark and menacing as he watches them. They shrink under his stare. Jude catches my gaze. "They been talking to you like that?"
I nod and he shakes his head. "Disgusting. We heard everything in there. Even over the music. You think that's the way to act?"
They shake their heads in sync. It's so different from how they treated me. "She followed us! We're the victims!"
Daniel speaks up. "They were antagonising. I saw everything."
"They just need to go and never come back," I say, folding my arms over my chest. "Poor Rosie is beside herself with tears because of them. They were saying hateful things."
A new look flashes across Jude's face, a protective one tinged with anger. "You leave here now and never come back, do you hear me?" he says with such authority, the girls scarper, not looking back.
Little performers is a safe space for so many children, it's disgusting how they were treated.
"They were making fun of those pure babies. Rosie is so upset," I say, swallowing down my wobbly feelings at him taking control of the situation.
The way he just stepped up, no questions asked for those kids makes me imagine how he would be with his own child and as a co-parent.
My mind takes another direction, one that takes me by surprise as I fantasise over his first time laying eyes on his baby or when our toddler takes their first steps.
Jude tenses his jaw. "I spotted the badge of the school on their backpacks. I'll make sure they know to never behave that way again, okay?"
I nod gently. "Thank you. We'll make a call too. The more complaints, the better."
When he steps backwards, he offers me a smile, an ice breaker of sorts after our tense day yesterday, before turning on his heels to head back into the warehouse.
I feel my feet moving restlessly against the grainy pavement as I attempt to place the jumbled puzzle pieces in my head. His protectiveness is undeniably attractive. It changes things. Makes me see clearer.
I know he might not think anything of his behaviour back there, seeming like second nature, but it gives him good points from me.
It gives me faith he'll be a good father.
Shona meets me at the gate, distracting me when she asks if I'm okay, letting me know the kids are inside and ready to work with me. I follow her, jumping when I spy Jude still hovering near the CrossFit entrance, watching me.
The trickle of rain now pours, pounding against us as Shona squeals, running ahead while I struggle to take my eyes off him.
Why is he staring so hard?
The rain soaks our clothes, and while he can probably remove his top, I can't, so I tear my eyes off him and run back inside, but his gaze is still there.
I feel it everywhere.