Andre looked as if he was about to have a fit, "But, but, we.."
Beatrice ignored his theatrics. "Ten minutes Andre." She replied firmly but with a small smile, and kept walking. David nearly applauded her. She seemed utterly in control of her life and more than able to handle the theatrics of her agent.
The entourage looked from her to Andre, not sure who to follow. Beatrice held open the door and waited for David to enter the room. Once David was in the room Beatrice pulled the door closed behind them. That gave the entourage a clear signal that she did not wish to be disturbed.
David banked a smile. He found it disconcerting to be managed in this way. For the last five years, he'd been the one doing the managing, taking a shaky family firm and ensuring it had a firm footing. Its fortunes were now assured. Mainly down to him. His work ethic. His plans. His determination. His focus. His leadership.
"Congratulations." David said as he walked past her into the dark room. He blindly reached sideways, found the light switch and flicked it. The room flooded with light at the same time as Beatrice closed the door with a firm click.
"Thank you." Beatrice was desperate to fold her arms and tilt her chin in defiance. Instead she lowered her shoulders and tipped her face, "Ten minutes isn't very long. So why don't you just cut to the chase and tell me what brings you here today." Beatrice suggested without any preamble.
David blinked at her directness. Was this really the woman he married? His brain had to reassess his memories of his wife.
"I assume it is important." The last thing she needed was to be in this man's company for too long, for she was sure she'd ask him when he remembered that he had a wife. And that was not the conversation she wanted to have with this man.
Beatrice stepped forward, placing her directly in front of him. She was sure his untimely appearance did not bode well. But she had promised herself that she would always face up to everything head on. Take on life's challenges as they appeared, rather than bury her head in the sand. The one thing she'd never managed to include in that blanket view was her marriage. Divorce. That's what was needed. A divorce. But she had kept hold of her marriage certificate. And kept her married name. It was her last link with her grandfather. It was his wish that she marry the man currently standing in front of her.
Beatrice figured if David hadn't bothered to seek a divorce, then it really didn't matter to him either. It certainly didn't appear to make any difference to his social scene, given he was far from short on dates. Clearly the women David dated did not mind that he was a married man. It had hurt, initially, when she read about him and other women. She figured that was pride. For it wasn't as if he was trampling on her heart. For her heart had not engaged when they had married.
So she had come to terms with the fact that apart from a bit of paper, there was nothing holding them together. Their civil service was nothing more than a contractual agreement. She had no right to expect him to be celibate. But it still hurt to read about him in the social columns, and note that instead of her being the woman standing alongside him, there was, usually, a long-legged blonde. Pride.
Beatrice had no intention of marrying again. So being married, divorced or single made no difference to her. The bonus of wearing a wedding ring was the veneer of security that it bought, that illusive respect that it garnered. So if being married wasn't an issue for him, it wasn't an issue for her either. Or so she had thought until his appearance today.
"It is." David told her.
"In that case, can I suggest you hurry up? Andre is a stickler for time. And I'm in a rush."