Page 56 of Don't Brake My Heart
Leesa
‘I transcribed the interview as well, so you can search for the time stamp on any quote you want to isolate. I’ve put a few in bold that I thought were particularly good.’
Even presenting online, I felt certain my colleagues could all tell exactly why the time stamps on the interview footage didn’t quite make sense. They all knew I’d cut out provocative questions – and answers – and three entire minutes of Colin and me making out while I sat in his lap.
It had taken me too long to realise the phone automatically saved to the cloud and the incriminating footage had sat there overnight, on the work server, before I’d frantically snipped and pressed ‘Delete’. Okay, I’d emailed myself a copy before I pressed ‘Delete’ and watched it back again at least three times on my private phone.
I hadn’t expected that of myself. The video should have felt tawdry and mortifying. I had starred in my own soft porn with the lead rider of the cycling team. At one point there was even a flash of my stripey pink knickers as Colin’s hand had ventured up my dress.
But I hadn’t felt dirty or guilty watching it. I’d been engrossed, fascinated by the stark lines of Colin’s face as he’d kissed me desperately. There were fewer glimpses of my face, but what I saw was a looser, freer me and she was damn sexy.
‘Initial feedback from the client has been very positive,’ Morgan said. I was glad of their presence on the call with Bill.
‘It’s good work,’ the big boss said gruffly – or maybe he’d just been vaping again. ‘I just have one question. The folder marked “Valerio for Magda”? I was looking through your content in preparation for the meeting and I can’t imagine why none of those… assets have appeared in your campaign planning.’
Heat rushed up my chest and I groped for my mouse to open up the folder, panic making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
‘Erm, I haven’t seen that one,’ Morgan stalled.
I clicked through frantically, telling myself it couldn’t be the kissing video, but terrified nonetheless.
‘Valerio for… Magda,’ I repeated rather stupidly as I searched for the folder on the server. ‘Uh, I suspect this is Colin playing a joke, as usual,’ I said through gritted teeth.
Double-clicking on the folder, I was confronted with an entire screen of thumbnails, all photos of Colin in front of the bathroom mirror, making various poses. Christ. If Bill hadn’t been the one to find these, I might have laughed. As it was, I wanted to throttle him for his long-shot prank that had paid off big time.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I mumbled. ‘He got hold of the tablet, but I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.’
To my shock, Bill laughed, clutching his stomach and then stopping on a cough. ‘You didn’t direct these?’
‘No, of course not.’ I only took footage of him with his hand on my ass, not – I tipped my head to peer at one of the thumbnails more closely – pictures of him balancing a water bottle on his head. Not that anyone would care what he had on his head when he was shirtless, his shorts hanging off his hips.
‘I thought you might have had hidden depths, Leesa,’ Bill replied, as though disappointed Ihadn’tbeen the one in the bathroom with him. God, I couldn’t get this right. ‘Maybe you should ask if we can use them.’
I wasn’t sure if it would serve Colin right if we published these photos or whether he’d revel in it and a tiny, embarrassing part of me wished he’d taken them for my eyes only.
‘Leesadefinitelyhas hidden depths,’ Morgan commented, thankfully in a light tone, but I nonetheless got the message. They’d worked out I was a little too close to the talent.
At least the camp was over tomorrow and I had 12 days to recover. I never would have thought a training camp where I wasn’t actually training would be so hard on my lungs and my body.
Some unexpected places on my body.
‘Thanks for your time, Bill. We’ll keep you apprised of our progress.’
I wasn’t sure if Morgan could read my thoughts or if they were just keen to get off the call. Either way, I ended the meeting a little too enthusiastically and slumped against my desk, my head in my hands.
One more day. And then he’d focus on the Tour and leave me alone. He had to and I wouldnotbe sad about that. I would not wonder about his relationship with his dad or how his apparent family drama was affecting his psyche. I would not picture him on my bed – not even sleeping peacefully – or in front of me on a bike in the wildly beautiful Dolomites.
I tabbed back to the folder of photos, clicking through them one by one. He still had the little redhead thing above his top lip, looking particularly ridiculous when he pouted for the camera. It felt like such a long time ago. It would be very strange when I didn’t see him next week.
Except I would be looking at his face every day as I assembled social-media assets.Ass-ets. Damn it, Colin Gallagher had utterly ruined me. But maybe at least partly in a good way.
‘Why didn’t you bring me here sooner? I’ve been in Italy for more than two weeks and I haven’t eaten a single slice of pizza!’
I had come down to Bressanone with Wil for a ‘business lunch’ – an excuse to chat away from the chaos of packing up a whole cycling team from an isolated mountain hotel. After more than two weeks at altitude, I was disoriented to see so many people, so many bricks and flagstones. It was a crash landing in the real world.
Wil smiled over her artichoke pizza. ‘We’re not exactly in Naples. Pizza isn’t a local specialty. When we first started coming here five years ago, this was the only place that served pizza, but now every hotel does. Brixen is turning Italian,’ she said, using the German name for the town.
I’d spent a few hours in Bressanone before, but I’d forgotten how pretty it was, the bright rendered buildings in yellow and ochre, the narrow cobbled streets, the endless church spires, all framed by a mountain panorama.
