Chapter twenty
Antonia
My headlights glow against the dark paintwork. The familiar perfectly polished sports car sits out of place amongst the mud.
He’s here.
I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here—not at midnight on a Wednesday—only the security staff patrolling the site. But even then, I hoped to get in and out without speaking to anyone.
Leaving the office early today hadn’t quietened my mind the way I hoped it would; the day of board meetings and budget constraints stalking me to bed. I couldn’t sleep.
Sure, our reputation has improved since Ben’s interview. Protesters have ebbed, only a few remain on daily stakeout. Media coverage has improved. Articles have run on what we actually do. Journalists have sought out the people we’ve helped, not only the ones who fell through the cracks.
It’s helped. It’s not fixed it.
Our shareholders are still nervous. Income is down. And comments are being made about how much of my focus is on the retreat. Tonight, I planned to visit the site. I wanted to open my laptop where it mattered, and reassess the figures because spending is inflating, plans expanding. I need to pinpoint the funding gap so I know what I’m dealing with.
But Ben’s here. Late at night. Maybe he was unable to sleep too.
For a moment, I consider turning around. He may not have even seen the car. As I hit the brake, his silhouette appears in the site office window, and the decision is made for me.
I cut the engine. Rain taps at the windshield, streaking down the glass. The site spotlight blares, throwing long shadows over scaffolding and half-laid stone. It looks nothing like the artistic impressions from the brochure.
It looks unkempt.
Like me.
I glance down at myself.
Pink fleece pajamas—my comfort blanket on cold winter nights—teamed with my coordinating wellies. My long wool business coat won’t hide the truth underneath.
I was ready for bed, but I came here. The fresh air and space were a need. I hadn’t taken the time to change. I’ve done this before, snuck in and out like a thief in the night. No one saw. No one knew.
Now, he will.
Ben steps away from the window. Heat creeps up my neck. He’s going to see me in my rawest state, more Friday night collapse than boardroom steel. I consider staying in my car, messaging and telling him that I’d been alerted to someone on site. He won’t believe that. Security knows who he is. I stop pretending and push open the door.
The cold bites my cheeks and mud sucks at my boots as I make my way across the yard. My coat flaps open, exposing my nightwear and vulnerability. I pull it around me tight. Again, I think about turning to run.
But I’m human.
A woman can’t stay all styled hair and lipstick at all hours.
Let him see who I am after the office closes. Human, but still working. And hopefully not repulsive.
The office door opens before I reach it.
He stands framed in yellow light. Still in his suit. Collar loosened. Inappropriate shoes for mud. Hair slightly disheveled as if he’s run his hands through it too many times. The ruggedness suits him.
He looks as surprised as I feel.
“If you’re here to judge my attire, Doctor, I suggest you look at your shoes,” I say before he can speak first.
He laughs. Low, but genuine.
“Touche.” His lips curl a little higher. He’s attractive, I can’t deny it. “So, what brings you here in the dead of night?”
“I could ask you the same.”