Desk Job (London Menage Book 2)

by Lily Harlem

  He told me it was all going well, that he hoped I liked the flowers, and Tristan wasn’t proving too difficult. He then set out a list of several things he needed me to give my attention to during the afternoon.

  I replied with a professional slant to my tone—even if I had sucked his cock yesterday morning, it didn’t mean I had to be all simpering and girly. I didn’t mention Tristan.

  After hitting send, I set to my long list of tasks. The office had a sense of studiousness to it, the atmosphere more subdued than it had been the week before. I wondered if that was the Tristan effect.

  In a way it was a good thing, it meant I wasn’t disturbed with having to fend off staff eager to spend time with my busy boss or cope with him constantly asking me to do things.

  By mid-afternoon, I made him another cup of coffee and took it in. I didn’t speak and neither did he.

  It would be the last coffee I made him.

  But despite his dour ways, nothing could detract from my happiness. My weekend date with Andre had been wonderful. His smile, the sparkle in his eyes, his hot body, had all hit the spot perfectly for me and I was now craving time with him, another chance to feel him inside me.

  As was often the case, I worked late because there was lots to do and I liked to feel in control of my workload. It wouldn’t be necessary once I got used to the job and found my feet a little more, but for now an extra hour here and there wouldn’t matter.

  But it had been more than an extra hour—when I looked at my phone, I realized it was nearly eight o’clock. The office was empty except for Tristan.

  I shut down my computer and pushed my to-do list to one side. It would all have to wait until the morning. I pulled on my cardigan and reached for my purse. Perhaps I’d stop at the wine bar opposite the entrance to the office block and have a quick glass of pinot before I jumped on the Tube.

  Mmm, good idea.

  I put my head around the door to Tristan’s office. He was standing by the window, staring at the screen on his phone.

  “It’s eight, so I’m heading home now.”

  “Okay.” He turned. “See you tomorrow…” He circled his finger in the air and frowned.

  “Stella.”

  “Yes, that’s right. Stella. See you tomorrow.”

  “You will.”

  I turned, feeling thankful that although Tristan was a self-obsessed grump, his partner was the complete opposite. For all of Tristan’s briskness, Andre had equal amounts of tenderness.

  If I were just Tristan’s personal assistant, I wasn’t sure how long I’d last.

  The wine bar was busy and it took me several minutes to claim a stool and order a drink. I opted for a large and after I took the first sip I checked out the clientele. Mainly suits. City guys who worked hard and played hard, I knew the type.

  There were a few women too, in groups, chatting. It reminded me that I needed to catch up with Sian and see how she was getting on with Coben’s new friend, what was his name? Edward?

  “Excuse me.”

  I turned to my right. A tall guy with a long face was grinning at me and holding up a near empty pint glass.

  “Do you have a Band-Aid?” he asked, his beery breath washing over me.

  “Er … pardon?”

  His grin broadened. “‘Cause I scraped my knee falling for you, baby.”

  Seriously?

  I rolled my eyes and took another sip of my drink, hoping I was giving off not-interested-vibes.

  “That was a good chat up line.” He downed his last mouthful of beer. “Admit it.”

  I declined to answer.

  “Hey, girl. Is your name Wi-Fi?” His shoulder bumped mine and he continued to grin manically.

  I shifted and glanced at the barman who had his back to me.

  “Because…” he said in a slurred voice. “We have a connection.”

  “I don’t think so.” I gestured to my drink. “The only connection I have this evening is with this glass of wine so if you don’t mind…”

  “Oh, I get it, you want me to walk past again because you don’t believe in love at first sight.”

  “What?”

  He chuckled as though highly amused at himself. “Can I get you another drink?”

  “No thank you.” I wondered about getting my phone out and calling Sian. That would give him the hint surely.

  “Hey, mate, pour me another.” He held up his glass to the barman who took it and began to replenish the booze.

  I glanced around the busy place wondering if there were another seat I could move to. No such luck. What had I done to deserve this? All I’d wanted was a peaceful glass of wine.

  “Come on, darling, cheer up.”

  “I don’t need to cheer up. I’m fine. Well I would be if you’d leave me alone.” He clearly needed it spelled out. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to drink my wine in peace.”

  He slung his arm over my shoulder and pulled me against him. “Don’t be like that, I’ll show you a good time, hell, a great fucking time if you know what I mean.”

  “Hey, leave me alone.” I shoved at him. “Before I call the police.”

  He moved much faster than I’d expected him to and I realized it was because someone else had gripped the back of his shirt and propelled him toward the wall.

  His shoulders hit it with a loud whump. Several people stepped out of the way as they turned to watch.

  The man who’d come to my rescue had wide shoulders and dark hair. I recognized him.

  Tristan Wainwright

  He had the creep who’d been hassling me pinned up against a wall. His forearm was lodged beneath the drunk man’s chin, and the other hand hovered as if ready to block an alcohol-fueled punch.

  “Get off me,” the drunk slurred.

  “The lady said she wasn’t interested. Why didn’t you take the hint?”

  “Is she your woman or sommat?”

  “That makes no difference. You need to learn to take no for an answer.”

  “Fuck off.” He went to take a swing at Tristan’s head.

  Tristan easily batted him away then appeared to pin him with even more force.

  The man groaned and shut his eyes.

  “Next time a woman asks to be left alone you’re going to walk away, right?”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Hey come on, leave it now.” The barman leaned over and jabbed his finger toward the two men. “I don’t want trouble kicking off.”

  My heart pounded. What the hell was Tristan doing here? And more to the point, why did he feel he needed to defend my honor?

  “What are you going to do next time a woman asks to be left in peace?” Tristan said harshly.

  The man kind of spluttered, then said, “Walk away, okay, I’ll walk away.”

  “Which is just what you’re going to do now.” Tristan stepped back, releasing the man.

  He gripped his throat then swung a glare around the room. His gaze settled on mine. “You’ve got a right knobhead for a boyfriend.”

  “Get out of here,” Tristan said in a dangerously low voice.

  “Yeah, hop it. You’re barred.” The barman pointed at the door.

  “But—?” The drunk man looked horrified.

  “No buts, I’m not having blokes in here who can’t take a hint. I heard you hassling her.”

  The guy lunged for a chair to his right. The woman sitting there flinched as he snagged up a suit jacket that he must have deposited on the back earlier. “You’ll miss my fucking business.” He sneered at the barman. “I spend a fair packet in here.”

  “I think we’ll survive,” the barman said.

  The man loped off, muttering and staggering as he went. People parted to let him through.

  When he’d disappeared from sight, I reached for my wine and took a large gulp. So much for a quiet after-work drink.

  “Are you okay?” Tristan asked as he studied my face.

  “Yes. Fine.”

  “Sure?”

  “No
harm done.” I half shrugged. “I’ve coped with idiots before.”

  And why do you suddenly care anyway?

  Tristan pulled up a free stool and sat next to me. He caught the attention of the barman. “A bottle of Sol if you have it.”

  “Sure thing.” He reached one from the fridge and popped the lid. “On the house. That guy has been a pain hanging around here for the last few weeks and drinking more than he should.”

  “Cheers.” Tristan smiled and it was the softest I’d seen his expression since I’d met him. In fact, it changed his whole face from one of sharp good looks to one of a mellow gentleman.

  His knee touched mine as the crowd’s conversation picked up again and the people who’d stepped aside bustled back into position.

  “Do you know him?” Tristan asked, then licked a drip of Sol from his lips.

  “Nope, never seen him before in my life. He was just trying out a few cheesy chat up lines on me.”

  “As if cheesy chat up lines would ever work on a woman like you.” He huffed.

  I raised my eyebrows. “A woman like me?” Blimey, he had an opinion on what sort of woman I was? He couldn’t even remember my name a few minutes ago.

  “Yes.” He tipped his head. “Pretty, classy, clearly way out of his league.”

  I opened my mouth to reply then shut it again. Words just wouldn’t form. Was this the same curt man I’d spent the day working for?

  He must have sensed my surprise because he set down his drink and held out his hand. “We should start over.”

  “We should?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tentatively, I took his hand and allowed the heat from his palm to seep against mine. “Is that why you came here? To … start over.”

  “To the wine bar?”

  “Yes.”

  “I suppose so.” He paused and released me. “I saw you come in here, from the office window.” He nodded outside. “Realized it was probably me who had driven you to drink.”

  I laughed. “This is not the first glass of wine I’ve ever had in my life.”

  Again he smiled, lightening his dark face.

  “So have you ever been in here before?” I asked.

  “No, as a rule I’d have another hour in the office.”

  “So what happened tonight?”

  “I guess…” He frowned and shifted on his seat. “I realized I might not have been the most gracious new employer today and despite what you may think, I’d really like you to stay and, on top of that, enjoy working for Andre and I.”

  “I enjoyed working for Andre last week.” I took another drink hoping the way I’d spoken Andre’s name didn’t reveal more.

  Has Andre said something to Tristan?

  The thought sent a tingle up my spine and heat spread over my chest. I could feel a flush rising on my skin and prayed I wouldn’t blush.

  What the hell would Tristan think if he knew Andre and I had gotten sweaty and naked over the weekend? We’d had a spark between us, hit it off straight away and tumbled into bed within days, but so what, we were both free agents. If doing what felt right was a sin, shoot me now.

  “I can see that you’re more than qualified to handle us,” Tristan said, his expression unchanging as thoughts rattled around my brain. “And it’s clear you’re already getting to grips with our diaries and the system we have going on.”

  I took a deep breath and stroked the stem of my wine glass. “I’ve been doing this kind of job for several years now. I like to think I’m pretty efficient at it.”

  “Which is great news for us. Our company is flying high, it’s a fast turnaround for projects and we made this year all about gaining new business that we’ll see the fruits from within twelve months.”

  I nodded.

  “And we’ve got some great talent working for us. We’ve invested in people, everyone in the office is damn good at their job, excellent in fact.”

  “I see.” I pressed my lips together.

  “What?” He took a drink, the bottle making a small popping sound as he removed it from his lips.

  I said nothing.

  “Tell me?” He frowned.

  What the hell. “Do they know you think they’re excellent?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I said. Do you tell the staff you’re pleased to have them, that you value their skills?”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Probably not often enough. That’s Andre’s thing, he’s the people person.”

  You don’t say.

  “You think I should tell them more often?”

  “Hey, I’m just your PA, it’s your company. Does it matter what I think?” God, were we really having this conversation? Sian told me to bite my tongue on occasion but sometimes I couldn’t help it going wild.

  “Of course it matters what you think.” He poked at the label on his beer. “Your ours now.”

  I was theirs?

  “Part of the team, you know.” He shrugged.

  “I’m pleased to hear it. Can I ask you something though?”

  “Fire away.”

  “Are you always as manically busy as you were today?”

  “Today wasn’t busy, that was an average Monday.”

  “But you barely had time to drink a coffee, you didn’t eat, hell you couldn’t even spare a few minutes to go through things I needed to clarify to make your life easier over the next few weeks.”

  He rubbed his temples. “I really was a shit, wasn’t I?”

  I laughed. “Well…”

  He set his gaze on me. “And you’re not denying it.”

  “Afraid not.”

  “Tell me what I should have done.”

  “Well, remembering my name would have been a start.”

  “I know your name.”

  “Only because I’ve told you twice.”

  “Fair point.”

  “And a thank you for coffee would be courteous.”

  “I apologize. Thank you for the coffee.”

  “Accepted.”

  “What else?” He drained the last of his beer.

  I sighed. “I need to get to grips with your diary and your way of doing things. Perhaps if you let me type up some of the documents you were working furiously on all afternoon it would take some of the pressure off and we’d have time to make some plans for going forward.”

  He nodded slowly.

  “You’re paying me to work for you, so let me work.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, really I do.”

  “Good.” I drank the last inch of my wine, then stood and reached for my cardigan.

  He got to his feet. “Here, let me.” He took it and held it out so I could slip my arms into it.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “So you will be in tomorrow?” A flash of anxiety crossed his face as he looked down at me.

  “Yes, I will.”

  “Thank goodness. Andre would kill me if I’d scared you off.”

  “Takes a bit more than a grump in a suit to scare me.”

  He laughed and again, that softness crossed his face. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning before leaving for work, I topped up the water for my roses. They were becoming more beautiful each day as the blooms opened. The velvety petals were the color of blood and their powdery scent filled the air.

  “Bye, Lullabelle, be good.” I blew her a kiss, though she didn’t acknowledge me, and then slipped out of the flat.

  The weather had changed, which it so often did during an English summer, and I’d opted for light gray trousers and a sheer cream silk blouse with a bow detail on the collar. Teamed with patent cream heels and a thick silver necklace, I was pleased with the look.

  As I’d expected, Tristan was in his office when I arrived. Once more he was talking on the phone.

  I booted up my computer, then went to put the kettle on. I’d make him a coffee and see if he was true to his word about starting afresh.

&n
bsp; Jenny wandered in and smiled my way. “Hey Stella, how are you?”

  “Good, you? Sort it out with your boyfriend?”

  “Yeah, he came groveling back when he’d calmed down. It’s always the same. He gets mad, shouts and swears, then when I’ve ignored him for long enough he begs for forgiveness. He’ll do it again in a few weeks.” She shrugged as though resigned to the cycle.

  It wasn’t my idea of fun. I preferred a quiet life with a man who knew how to treat a woman—like Andre. “What does he do?”

  “He runs a boxing club in the East End.”

  An image of a big, beefy heavily tattooed guy came to mind.

  “Though he says he’s going to sell it,” she went on, “and start up a new business, something where he can wear a suit each day, make enough money to buy us a villa in Spain. Maybe then we’ll get married.”

  It sounded to me like Jenny was being spun a yarn but I didn’t know her well enough to comment. Had it been Sian, that would have been different, she would know exactly what I thought of a loser boyfriend.

  “So how are you getting on with the big bosses?” Jenny asked, scooping coffee into a mug.

  “Okay.” Mmm, yes, one of them was quite big. I suppressed a smile. “They’re very different.”

  “Chalk and cheese.” She grinned. “Everyone says Andre is their favorite, he’s just so sweet and … well he’s not bad on the eye either. All that tousled blond hair, his come-to-bed-eyes and sexy smile. His ex-wife was one lucky lady to get her hands on that body.”

  I agreed, though I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was with the man I was falling for being admired and discussed. I had a tendency to be the jealous sort once I’d staked my claim.

  Hey, you have no claim on him. Early days.

  The kettle boiled and I poured water into my mug. I beat down the unpleasant, bitter-tasting emotion of jealousy.

  “And Tristan,” Jenny went on, adding two scoops of sugar into her coffee. “Well, he’s the problem child, isn’t he?”

  He was hardly a child, seeing him shove that drunk up against the wall in the bar and warn him off had proved that to me.

  “I shouldn’t say that, it’s not very respectful.” Jenny shrugged. “But you know what I mean. He’s not the first one who springs to mind if any of us have a personal problem we need help with. Andre is much more empathetic.”