by L.H. Cosway
“Alexis, good morning,” he said, nodding to me in greeting and grinning a little at my efforts to keep hold of all the papers. Then he gestured for me to hand him some. “Here, let me help.”
I silently allowed him to relieve me of half the load, our fingers grazing as I explained, “Eleanor’s not coming in today. Also, I have to confess, I haven’t had a chance to read any of these.”
King’s lips twitched. “Well, given that you’re new, I’ll go easy on you. And don’t worry, I’ve already been informed of Eleanor’s absence.”
“I’m sorry. I would have made a start earlier if I’d known, but I’m going to try my best not to screw up your day.” Oh, God, if my hands were free, I would have face palmed at that. Way to show him I was a nervous wreck.
King’s expression warmed. “I have every faith that you won’t.”
A few seconds of silence ticked by before the doors pinged open. As I walked alongside him, he commented, “You know, I hardly recognised you today without the leopard print.”
I shot him an amused scowl, but strangely enough, his friendly teasing managed to ease some of my nerves. “Very funny, Mr. King.”
It was nice to know that just because he was my boss, it didn’t mean he was a slave driver. I was sure if I made a mistake today, he wouldn’t berate me for it. And God, speak of a mistake and watch it appear. We walked into the office, and Gillian shot up from her seat.
“Good morning, Mr King,” she greeted her boss brightly before her gaze came to me and her eyes flared meaningfully. King continued into his office. “Alexis,” she whispered, “you forgot his breakfast.” I swear, by the look in her eyes you’d think she was about to have a coronary at the horror of a breakfastless Oliver King.
“Crap, sorry! I’ll take care of it right away.”
“It’s supposed to be waiting for him when he arrives.”
“I know. It’s my mistake. I’ll go in now and apologise.”
I left before she could stress me out further and slipped inside King’s office. I held my hands up. “Mea culpa — I forgot your brekkie, but I’m remedying the matter right now. What ya got a hankering for?”
Brekkie, Alexis, really? For some reason my brain thought being funny about the mixup would make it less of a big deal.
King cocked a brow as he looked up at me from the newspaper he was scanning. “Te absolvo. Eggs Benedict and a double espresso. You speak Latin?”
I tried not to snicker. “Nah, I’m just clever like that. And that’s one eggs Benedict and a double espresso coming right up. I’ll be back quicker than John Travolta in a leather jacket.”
King shot me a confused glance but just shook his head. He clearly didn’t get my “Greased Lightning” joke, but whatever. I headed for the nearest café and got his breakfast. When I returned, he was in the middle of what sounded like a serious phone call, so I quietly set his food down on his desk. He gave my wrist a quick touch and mouthed a thank you before he was knee deep in his phone call again.
I returned to my desk and set to work, trying not to let my thoughts linger on the casual way he’d touched me. It was a touch of familiarity, and we weren’t familiar. Well, not really. Perhaps the way I joked around made him think we were, but that was just my way. I was incapable of putting on airs and graces, and tended to act the same whether I was talking to my grandma or the Queen of England. Not that I’ve ever met the Queen, but you know what I mean.
Mid-morning came and went, and then there was a handsome dark-skinned guy in a suit arriving at the office to see King. His exotic looks, however, didn’t match his public schoolboy accent. In fact, he sounded a lot like my boss.
“Ah, Mr Batage, it’s good to see you again,” said Gillian. “Is that a new suit?”
Mr Batage smiled at her and glanced down at what he was wearing. “Good to see you, too, Gill. And yes, it is new. Glad you noticed.”
Gillian preened at him shortening her name to “Gill” and gave him a demure, “Well, it looks really good on you, and I love the way you’re cutting your hair these days. Follow me — Mr King is just inside his office.”
Mr Batage gave me a nod hello before following Gillian. I continued working until she returned and shut the door behind her. She made sure it was closed tight before sidling up to my desk and giving me the lowdown.
“That’s Dilvan Batage. He’s a good friend of Mr King’s. They went to school together. Dilvan is a trader over at The Ring, but he comes from really old money. His family are wealthy tea exporters from Sri Lanka.”
I glanced up at her. “Huh. What’s The Ring?”
She looked at me like I was slow. “It’s the London metal exchange. Busy place. Mr King took me along on a visit once. It’s the only market that still trades solely in cash.”
“Ah. Got ya. So he’s some sort of hotshot, then?”
“Pretty much. He’s really successful.” I wasn’t mistaken when I saw the dreamy look flash across her face.
“And easy on the eyes, too,” I added, giving her a wink.
Gillian firmed her lips and straightened up. “That’s neither here nor there.”
“But you wouldn’t mind his heres having a go on your theres, would you?”
Her pinched expression grew even more so, and I had to laugh. “I’m messing with you, Gill. Relax.”
Without another word she returned to her workstation, and I thought I might have embarrassed her. Though I found it hard to believe a woman who flirted as much she did could be embarrassed by a bit of friendly teasing, but hey, what did I know. I’d have to watch my mouth with Gillian in future so as not to cause offence.
I answered the phone then and scribbled down a message to pass along to King. The woman sounded adamant that I pass it on ASAP, so I rose and went to knock on his door.
“Come in,” I heard him call before I turned the knob and stepped inside. King sat in his usual chair, while Dilvan perched on the edge of his desk. Both men were sharing what appeared to be a glass of whiskey. I swear, it was a scene straight out of Mad Men. I had to resist the urge to crack a joke about old broads and crazy dames.
“Ah, Dilvan, let me introduce you to Eleanor’s replacement,” said King as I walked into the room and passed him the note. “This is Alexis.”
I turned and gave the man a polite smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alexis,” said Dilvan.
“You, too.”
Dilvan shot King a smirk. “I think your other assistant has a sweet spot for me.”
King grinned. “Oh, really? Gillian?”
“That’s the one.”
When King’s attention slid to me and I saw the playfulness in his eyes, I got a feeling I wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.
“Alexis has a something of a theory about Gillian, isn’t that right?”
“Oh?” Dilvan put in. Now both of their attentions were levelled on me, and I felt a bit hot under my blouse.
“I think you’re getting me mixed up with someone else, Mr King,” I said, quiet but firm, about to leave when he continued,
“No, I’m not. If I remember correctly, you said Gillian would marry a cup if — ”
Before I knew it, I was taking a step back so that I could fit my hand over his mouth to shut him up. I’d left the door ajar, and there was a small chance Gillian would hear. I was so panicked for a moment that I hardly realised what I’d just done. My palm was fitted against King’s sculpted lips, which, as it happened, felt really nice. He stared up at me, his bright eyes going unfathomably dark, before I snatched my hand away like I’d just been burned. Silence filled the room.
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have….”
And then both he and Dilvan started laughing.
“You know, I do feel sorry for you, working with this beast,” Dilvan told me.
“I just didn’t want Gillian to hear,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to….”
King waved my explanations away. “It’s fine. Do
n’t worry about it,” he said.
I swallowed and nodded, turning and leaving even though I hadn’t been dismissed. I needed to get out of there before I began stripping and giving him a lap dance. I swear, I did the stupidest things sometimes. I wouldn’t be surprised if that somehow happened.
When lunchtime came, I wasn’t sure if King’s invitation for me to use his bathroom was still open. He was out of the office, though, and Gillian was dining out as usual, so I decided to chance it. I’d brought a packed lunch, because I needed to watch the pennies until I got my first month’s pay.
Opening the door to the office and then to the bathroom, I furrowed my brow in confusion. The bathroom looked exactly how it normally did, only now there was a table and two chairs set up in the middle of the room, and on the table sat a chessboard. But it wasn’t just any chessboard, it was King’s. The one we’d played on at his apartment.
I didn’t get the chance to ponder it further, because the next thing I knew someone was entering the room from behind me.
“Ah, you’re here. Perfect. Fancy a game?” King asked, passing me by and pulling out a seat.
Five
“Well, are you going to just stand there all day, or are you going to come and play with me? I’m sure you’re eager for a rematch,” King went on as I stood by the door. I had to admit, I was flustered.
“Um, I….”
“Sit down, Alexis,” he urged me, but it also sounded a little bit like a command. Who knew my boss had a bossy side?
I tried to concentrate on the chessboard situation, but I had to get the “my hand on his mouth” situation out of the way first.
“I’m sorry for earlier,” I blurted. King only stared at me for a very long moment and arched a brow. “In your office, while your friend was visiting. I put my hand on your mouth, and it was so inappropriate I don’t even know where to start.” I glanced to the side and fidgeted with my hands.
“Sit down, Alexis,” King repeated, this time with more force.
Unable to resist an order like that, I finally came forward and took the seat he was offering. His knuckles brushed my shoulder as he pushed my chair in, and I instinctively sucked in a breath at the contact. Not that he noticed. Walking around to the opposite side of the table, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat.
“What you did was fine. Dilvan is a friend. If it had happened in front of anyone else, it might have been a different matter. Maybe try to resist the urge to fondle me during work hours in future.” His voice was lightly teasing, but there was also a stiffness that put me on alert.
He began to arrange the pieces to his liking on the board, and I didn’t know how to feel. Was he actually okay with it, or was he just pretending? Nah, a man like King didn’t pretend. He didn’t need to.
“Well, I’ll be more careful the next time. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”
He fingered his bishop and flicked his eyes to mine. “Embarrass me?”
“In front of your colleagues. I know this business can be all about appearances.”
“You think so?”
I smoothed my skirt over my thighs and saw his eyes follow the movement. Huh.
“Oh, I know so.” I paused hesitantly before asking, “Do you want honesty or the polite answer?”
“Honesty, always,” said King without batting an eyelid.
I swallowed and gave it to him straight. “I’ve only worked here a week, and already I can tell the environment is all about appearing to be successful and acting like you’re doing well, even when you might be failing miserably. And, let’s face it, more people are losing than winning, especially in today’s climate, but you wouldn’t think it to look at them.”
It was true. I might not have been working right in the middle of it all, but I’d been through the main offices often enough to be able to get the lay of the land. And the land around here was highly competitive. It was kind of a relief not to be a part of it. I had no clue why someone would actually choose this for a career. Well, okay, I did know. They chose it for the money. Though personally, I thought the amount of stress that came with the money wasn’t worth it.
King seemed intrigued as he leaned forward and rested an elbow on his knee. “And am I one of the winners or one of the losers?”
“I’ve worked on your spreadsheets. I think we both know the answer to that question.” King was winning hand over fist.
His mouth moved in something akin to satisfaction. “You have a very cynical view of my industry, Miss Clark.”
My eyes grew wide. “Can you blame me? People have lost their homes, their jobs, because of bankers speculating with their money and handing out subprime loans like candy at a fair. But really, I just see it for what it is. If somebody’s making money in this office, then it goes without saying that someone in another office is getting screwed over. There’s cash everywhere, but seemingly never enough to go around. And definitely never enough to satisfy one person’s desire for it.”
I’ll give him credit, King didn’t show a single sign of annoyance at what I said. In fact, I’d go as far as to say he was actually enjoying the conversation. I was thankful my opinions hadn’t offended him.
“If this is how you see things, then why come to work here?”
I let out a laugh and decided to make the first move in our game. I picked up a pawn. “Because I don’t live in an ivory tower, Mr King. I live in a tower block. And I can’t afford to be picky. The way I see it, the people who while away their days living by lofty ideals are the ones who have the money to do so. The rest of us are too busy trying to keep our heads above water to have time to play around with moral codes. So yeah, I don’t believe the way the financial industry works is right or good, but if that industry is going to provide me with a way to pay my bills and keep a roof over my head, then I’m in no position to refuse.”
“You’re right,” said King, eyeing the board and seemingly deliberating over his next move.
“Thank you,” I said, feeling a small burst of pride that was quickly deflated.
“But you’re also wrong.”
I glanced up at him, surprised. “How am I wrong?”
“You said we all desire money, but I don’t. My family is very wealthy, and I could live off that wealth quite comfortably for the rest of my life if I chose to, but I don’t choose to. I want to excel, to do better than everyone else. Break records all on my own merit, no cheating, no shortcuts, no unfair advantages. That’s what drives me. The money I make in excelling could very well be empty pieces of paper for all I care.”
“A-ha, but don’t you see, not caring about the money, only caring about winning, that’s a luxury. You come from money, so you have the luxury of only caring about your accomplishments. If you had nothing to fall back on, if the threat of poverty was something to really be scared of, you’d care about the money then. The money would be all you’d care about, because it’d mean the difference between having food on your plate or going hungry.”
Our game of chess felt long forgotten as King stared at me for what seemed like forever. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. He knew I was right. And speaking of hunger, I hadn’t yet had the chance to touch my lunch, so I picked up my sandwich and began to unwrap it. I took a bite, chewed, and all the while King didn’t say a word.
Finally, he spoke. “Have you ever considered joining a debate club? You’d be a formidable competitor.”
I laughed. “Maybe I will.”
King watched me eat for a moment (which made me unusually self-conscious) before opening up the small food container he’d brought with him. It looked like some sort of healthy Asian salad.
“Why did you bring your chessboard here? This is the same one we played at your apartment, right?” I asked as we both ate.
He cleared his throat. “It is. And to answer your question, I enjoyed playing with you. I thought we could make it a regular thing.”
His answer caught me off guard, and yes, I was also a l
ittle bit flattered that he wanted to play chess with me on the regular. “And you put it in your bathroom because…?”
He gave me a hint of a smile. “You’re oddly taken with my bathroom. I thought you’d be more amenable to playing if I put it in here.”
I laughed loudly, because even though it was so weird, it was also so right. “Oh, my God, you know me too well. It’s kinda scary.” I waggled my brow at him.
“I wanted to make an effort for my very first Sapphic friend,” he replied.
Christ, if ever there was a lie that would come back to haunt me, it was telling Oliver King that I batted for the other team. Still, it was a little bit funny he believed I was gay, and it was enjoyable to play along. I mean, even though I found him attractive, I had no intention of ever letting it go anywhere, so what was the harm in him believing I liked girls?
“If you’d really wanted to make the effort, you could have popped a few pictures of topless birds up on the wall. You know, so I’d have somewhere pleasant to rest my gaze.”
King chuckled. “My apologies. I’ll remember that for the next time I need to butter you up.”
***
Mum: Dinner’s on the table at 7. Don’t be late.
I got the text right after lunch, and remembered I’d promised my parents I’d come around for dinner that evening. King and I hadn’t managed to finish our game within the hour, so we’d left the board as it was with an agreement to pick up where we’d left off tomorrow.
Was he going to spend all his lunch hours playing chess with me in his bathroom?
The question gave me troubling butterflies in my belly, and I couldn’t deny I was flattered by how much attention he was showing me. I had the feeling Oliver King didn’t show attention to new people easily, so I knew there must be something about me that interested him. I was under no illusions that I was special, but I put it down to being different from the usual women who worked at Johnson Pearse. I didn’t mince my words, I said inappropriate crap, I acted inappropriately, and seemingly King found all of this endearing for whatever reason.