The Gadget: The Rondon Chronicles Book One V. Timlin (mobi reader .txt) 📖

“You’ve been saying that for weeks now. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, positive.”

Alison lingered by the door, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I know it’s none of my business…”

And it wasn’t… Anouk bolted up from her desk, sending her chair whirling back. It slammed against the metallic filing cabinet. Alison flinched. Anouk didn’t care; she couldn’t stand to hear what she knew was coming. She opened a folder on her desk and started to leaf through the documents.

Alison fidgeted in the doorway, plucking strands of her blonde hair from her dark blue suit jacket. “Look, you’ve had a hard time lately, what with… well, what with everything. I’m sure the break up didn’t help, either, but if you want to talk…”

About Owen? Hell, no. Anouk closed the folder with a thud. “Thank you. I’ll bear it in mind.” She gave her colleague a frozen smile. The last thing she wanted to talk about was her arsehole ex, and how he had left her when she needed him most. And who—tadaa!—had a new girlfriend within a week.

Alison’s cheeks flushed and her body stiffened in indignation. “Alright. Well, see you tomorrow then.” She turned and left—the sharp tap of her heels against the floor were like an unvoiced accusation.

Anouk ran after her. “Alison, wait.”

Alison stopped and slowly faced Anouk. Her eyes gleamed in the office lights. Shame burned Anouk’s cheeks. She didn’t have the right to take her angst out on Alison who just wanted to help.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you. You’re absolutely right, I need a break. How about we go to that new wine bar on Broadway this Saturday?”

“You mean Vino?” Alison asked, her expression wary.

“Yes, I’ve heard good things about it.”

“This coming Saturday?”

“If you’re free.”

“Yes.” Alison’s face lit up. “Great, we’ll make it a girls’ night out—the way we used to.”

“Yes, let’s do that.” Anouk forced a smile on her face. She could fake it one night, couldn’t she?

“Fabulous, it’s settled then.” Alison spun on her heels and wiggled her fingers over her shoulder, a wide grin on her face. “Ciao!”

“See ya,” Anouk called after her.

With a sigh, Anouk walked back to her office. Well, the worst part of the day was over. She pulled her light green trench coat on, shouldered her handbag and slapped the lights off.

The noise of the busy road welcomed her as she joined the stream of pedestrians. She embraced the deafening echo of the traffic, and the faceless mass of fellow human beings passing by, minding their own business. A phrase from years back sprang to her mind, and the corner of her mouth tugged upwards. Yes, the veil of anonymity fell by itself in big cities; no arguing with that.

She stopped at the florist.

“Hello, Anouk,” the familiar shopkeeper greeted her.

“Hi, Daisy.” Anouk always found it amusing, but very appropriate, that the florist was named after a flower.

“Lovely day today.” Daisy’s hands were busy assembling a bouquet like two independent minions attached to her round body. With swift but deliberate movements she organised orange and red gerberas, ferns and baby’s breath into a floral piece of art.

“Yes, very lovely.”

“I’ll just tie the flowers and it’s finished.” Daisy took a broad white ribbon and wound it around the stems, placing the finished bouquet in a vase, then putting it on the showcase. “The usual?”

“Yes, please.” Anouk appreciated Daisy’s professionalism. She never pried into Anouk’s personal life when she had just come to buy flowers. Anouk chose to keep her business private—always.

Daisy wrapped the dozen yellow roses in a neat package and handed it over the counter. “There you go.”

Anouk placed a twenty-pound note in Daisy’s hand and accepted the flowers with a smile.

She stepped out of the florist and started to walk down the street, glancing at the shop windows as she went by. A floral canvas bag, hanging over the shoulder of a mannequin, caught her eye. She stopped at the window and stared at the tote bag with printed antique roses on baby blue in regret. Her mother would have loved it.

“Anouk,” a voice called behind her. She froze and slowly turned around.

“Owen.” Anouk’s tone was icy. One of the largest cities in the world and she bumped into this jerk—someone was having a right laugh.

Owen’s charming smile failed to invoke any feeling. She waited for him to start the conversation. After all, he was the one who had approached her. Owen leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek, but Anouk dodged him.

“Am I not allowed to greet you anymore?” He looked surprised and hurt.

“A ‘hello’ will do.”

“Don’t be like that…” Owen started to say.

“What do you want?”

Owen blinked. “I…I saw you and thought I’d ask how you are.”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s good.” He pushed his hands deep into his jeans pockets.

Her ex-boyfriend’s face twitched and spasmed as he attempted to find some words. He was still handsome. Anouk hated to admit it. Dark wavy hair, clear blue eyes and an athletic frame—he was a physical embodiment of her dream man. Those five years they had been together, she had thought herself lucky. Of course, he wasn’t perfect, but who was? No one was without faults; some had more, and some had less. Owen had… more. Only later had she realised he had been a self-absorbed arse and she, his willing doormat and cheerleader. Something she had a hard time forgiving herself for.

“Was there anything else?”

“I…” Owen rubbed his neck.

“I thought not.” Anouk turned to go, but stopped. “You still have my key. I want it back.”

“Oh, yes, I think I have it. Hadn’t come around to return it to you yet, not that I wasn’t meaning to…” Owen’s voice trailed off.

“Do you have it with you now?”

“No, it’s at home.”

“I want it back by tomorrow. Drop it through the letter box.”

Owen nodded, the usual sad puppy expression on his face. A few months ago, she would have melted and rushed to hug him, but now a shudder of