11

MARIAH

––––––––

‘I told you Secret Santa was fun,’ I say to Frank as we re-enter our office. ‘It really does help boost morale.’

‘You were right, as always, darling,’ he replies with a sarcastic tone, which makes me laugh. He’s good at doing that, making me laugh. He’s good at lots of other things too, which is why I feel so happy with him. Frank came here to help me run this business, and us becoming lovers was not intended, but it has been a very happy consequence. Who would have thought that murdering my former partner and his mistress would lead me to be so happy, just a year later?

It’s safe to say I have no regrets. I don’t even regret that Brenda still works here. Sure, she might suspect that I am a killer, but she has not said anything. She might be scared, or she might just be smart enough to mind her own business. Whatever the case, she has been no trouble to me, so I have been no trouble to her. We are all getting on with our lives. It’s just that some of us are getting on with them better than others.

As I recline into my luxurious new office chair, I think about how good it is to be me. A woman who gets what she wants and if I don’t, I do something about it until the world corrects itself. Right now, I have everything I need. The career. The man. The power.

Then I notice I have something else too.

‘What’s this?’ I ask when I notice the wrapped gift by my keyboard.

It wasn’t there when I left, and for a moment, I flashback to last year, when I returned to my desk to find the photos of Michael and Nat waiting for me, the photos that Brenda took and the photos that led to me taking two lives.

What is this?

And could history be repeating itself?

‘Looks like Santa isn’t done being so secretive yet,’ I hear Frank say, and when I look up at him, I notice the mischievous grin on his face. The expression tells me he is behind this mysterious gift, and that relaxes me because it means it is not from Brenda, or anybody else who might be about to tell me another grim truth.

‘You did this?’ I ask him as I reach for the gift, and Frank shrugs.

‘I just wanted to get you something to show my appreciation,’ he says, still smiling. ‘Not just for us as a couple but for you helping me settle in here professionally too. For being such a good colleague. For all the hard work you do, especially after all you have been through in the past.’

Frank doesn’t know the half of what I have been through. All he knows is that my former husband and another colleague were murdered, and the killer was never found.

That is all he needs to know.

‘You really shouldn’t have,’ I say in that self-deprecating way a person does when they are pretending they didn’t need a present but are secretly delighted to have been given one.

I then waste no time tearing through the wrapping paper to reveal a box containing a very expensive bottle of white wine.

‘Wow, how much did this cost you?’ I ask, estimating it to be three figures, at least.

‘Don’t worry about that. Just worry about filling up your glass,’ Frank says before he hands me a sparkling wine glass, one of the two we keep in here.

‘I can’t drink it now,’ I say, looking at the time and seeing that it is not even 3pm.

‘Yes, you can. You’re the boss,’ Frank says breezily. ‘I’ve seen your calendar, and you don’t have any more appointments for the day. It’s Friday afternoon, and it’s Christmas. I could tell everybody they can go home early. Nobody will come in and bother you.’

‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ I say with a wry smile, and Frank winks. ‘I suppose you do make a compelling argument.’

With that, I slide open the box and take out the bottle before unscrewing the lid and pouring myself a glass. Just as I have done so, I notice Frank preparing to leave.

‘Aren’t you joining me for one?’ I ask him, looking around for his glass.

‘I’ll tell the staff they can go home early, and I just need to go over something with the Accounts team before Monday. But it won’t take long. I’ll be back in half an hour, and you better have a glass ready for me then.’

‘I will,’ I say, excited to share this wine with him in thirty minutes. But for now, it looks like I’m drinking alone, and as Frank steps out and closes the door, I have the privacy to do just that. He is right. It’s Friday afternoon. It’s almost Christmas. I’m the boss. We can send everyone home early, and no one will bother us. So it’s fine for me to enjoy a little alcohol at my desk in the middle of the afternoon.

I put the glass to my lips and savour the sweet liquid inside as it goes down my throat.

This really is good wine. Almost too good to share, in fact, though I will definitely be sure to save some for Frank when he returns.

But for now, I have half an hour, and I’m going to enjoy this glass all to myself...