‘Right.’ He sighed and rubbed his head.
I smiled sympathetically. ‘Have you got some quiet work you can do?’
‘Filing?’ he asked hopefully.
‘Okay. I’ll take the phones for a few hours while you do that and then why don’t you knock off early? I can handle things on my own.’
‘If you’re sure … I wouldn’t want you to think—’
‘I don’t. It was a special occasion, wasn’t it? And you’ve been doing well the past few weeks. Everyone’s allowed a night out occasionally.’
‘Thanks. If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it.’
‘It’s fine. I know you won’t make a habit of it.’ A statement rather than a question, just so he knew I wouldn’t put up with it on a regular basis.
‘No.’ He groaned, rubbing his forehead again, ‘I won’t.’
‘So was it good?’ Leaning forward I pressed a few buttons on his handset to forward his calls to my phone, then looked up at him.
‘What?’
‘The stag do? What did you get up to? What’s the equivalent of tying someone to a lamppost nowadays?’
I glanced up, noting how bloodshot his pale-blue eyes were.
‘It was my older brother’s do. We made him dress as a woman and tell everyone we met that it was what he did to relax.’
I laughed, stepping back. ‘Oh, dear. Very mean.’
‘It was quite funny. It took some persuading but I won. He always says I get my own way, whatever I want,’ he said, returning my smile before going quiet. Our gaze held for a few seconds longer than polite and his smile widened.
Uh-oh, I thought. That’s not where I was going with this.
‘Anyway,’ I changed direction briskly, ‘I’d better get on with some work. And you’ve got that filing to do,’ I reminded him pointedly.
‘Yes.’
As I backed away, he held his place, still smiling at me, still trying to maintain eye contact. As I went back into my office I had a twinge of unease but dismissed it quickly.
Everything was fine for a few weeks. Then, one Friday afternoon, I dropped a file, muttering under my breath. Tony appeared next to me, squatting down to help gather up the papers, handing them to me, fingers brushing against mine.
‘Thanks,’ I fumbled out breathlessly, flustered by my show of clumsiness. As I stood up I realised too late we were way too close. But to step away too obviously would be rude so I stayed put, shuffling the paperwork into order.
Staring into my eyes, he brushed something off my cheek. ‘Eyelash.’
‘Thanks.’ It was a line, and an old one, but it may have been genuine, so I said nothing, just smiled and looked over my shoulder. ‘I’ve got a report to finish so…’
‘Yes, it’s due in tomorrow morning.’
‘I’ll get to it then.’ I paused awkwardly, not sure if I should say something after all.
‘I’m really enjoying working with you, Charley. You’re a good boss,’ he said, seeming to emphasise the last word.
Phew. He got that all we had was a professional relationship. ‘Good, great. Pleased to hear that. See you later.’ Turning, I swept into my office and was soon immersed in the sales data I was analysing. Forgetting about Tony and any fears I had that we were being too familiar.
But two weeks later he started ‘accidentally’ brushing against me in the outer office where he sat, as well as making mildly suggestive comments. I said nothing initially. I’d look stupid and paranoid if I raised it with him and had misunderstood what was going on.
I’d always thought there was nothing wrong with office romances if everyone was happy and they were handled sensitively, but they’ve never been for me. Especially with a junior member of staff, who’d be in an unfair position if things went wrong, given the imbalance of power. So the company’s anti-workplace relationship policy suited me fine. It was a moot point anyway. I didn’t find Tony attractive and there was something about him I was starting to dislike. So I gave him subtle ‘back off’ signals, hoping he’d get bored and leave me alone but it only increased his determination. One day he cornered me in the file run.
‘Fancy dinner with me tonight, Charlotte? Just the two of us.’
My back was to him as I flicked through confidential files in a cabinet, so he didn’t see the face I pulled or the deep silent breath I took to control my annoyance. By then there was a niggle about the potentially patronising way he spoke to female staff, but none of them had come to me and there wasn’t enough evidence to raise it with him.
Shutting the drawer slowly, I turned around. ‘Thank you for the offer, Tony, but it’s not a good idea. I’m your line manager and would prefer to keep this professional. Our contracts also make clear relationships between colleagues aren’t allowed.’ I forced away the urge to demand he call me Miss Wright. I didn’t ask any other team members to and didn’t want him to feel I was singling him out.
‘Right. I see. Sorry.’ He smiled tightly.
‘That’s fine.’ I nodded. ‘So, if you don’t mind?’ I waved a file in the air.
‘Don’t let me stop you.’
The way he looked me up and down made me edgy. Was he intending to make me squeeze past him? ‘Would you mind moving please?’
‘Sorry. Of course.’ He stepped back to let me pass.
Striding out, I chanced a look over my shoulder. He was staring after me, grey suit rumpled and pale-pink tie askew. The whole incident was another odd one, but hopefully he’d got the message.
The next day when I came in for the evening shift, he was sitting on the edge of my desk.
‘Evening, Tony. Can I help?’ Claiming my chair, I gestured him to take a seat opposite.
‘I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday,’ he acknowledged, ‘and we can remove the problem.’ He paused, gave a smirk. ‘If you weren’t my boss we wouldn’t have a conflict in dating.’
My lower jaw momentarily dropped but I calmed myself, switching on my computer. ‘Sorry, what are you suggesting?’
‘If working together is a problem, we could change that.’
‘How exactly?’
Shrugging, he stretched his arms above his head as if totally relaxed. ‘Maybe if you worked at another casino?’
I stared at him in disbelief, wanting to wind his arms round his neck and throttle him with them. Anger sent tingles along my skin. I couldn’t comprehend what he’d said. Inappropriate didn’t begin to cover it. It was so bloody arrogant. I should give up a job earned through hard work just to have the opportunity to sleep with him? What alternate reality was he lodged in?
Going into hyper-formal mode, I straightened in my seat, squaring my shoulders. ‘I’m surprised at the suggestion, Tony. I’m very happy here and have no desire to transfer. And I have no desire for us to be involved. If you’re going to stay you’ll need to respect that. Can you work as my assistant on those grounds?’
‘Sure.’ He tried to look indifferent but a muscle ticked at the corner of his mouth. ‘It was just a thought. And after the way we talked, and you smiled at me—’
‘I was being polite.’ But guilt nagged at me. Had I encouraged him? Been too friendly?
‘It was just a thought, as I said,’ he reiterated stiffly.
‘Good. Then I think we should regard the topic as closed.’
‘Good,’ he repeated. ‘Everything you need is waiting in your in-tray. Goodnight.’ Standing abruptly, he stalked out.
After he left, I was unnerved enough to rush through the door onto the casino floor for a walk around. I needed to be around people, try and forget I’d just been propositioned by my assistant.
After sleeping on it, I hoped for the best and that he’d have abandoned his weird ideas. I was conducting staff appraisals for front-of-house staff the following morning so didn’t see him until lunchtime. There was no mention of the previous night’s conversation and I didn’t get an apology, but for a while it was better. The invasion of my space stopped and so did the
inappropriate comments.
Then one evening I was working on a head-office project on rolling out succession planning across the London region. Tony had stayed on to pull data off the system, but was tense, motions jerky, not making direct eye contact.
‘Tony, we’re all right aren’t we?’ I asked, pouring us coffee. We were at the meeting table in my office, papers spread out around us, other staff either down on the casino floor or in the security or cash offices.
‘What do you mean?’ He looked over, frowning.
‘Our conversation the other week—’
‘Sure,’ he shrugged but his expression had gone hard, the planes of his face standing out starkly. There was a gleam in his eye which made me uncomfortable.
‘I just thought … you don’t have to be embarrassed. We can—’
‘Forget it,’ he ground. Holding the milk jug up: ‘White or black tonight?’
‘Black, thanks.’ I stared at him but he ignored me, hypnotically stirring sugar into his coffee. He was upset, so trying to pursue the conversation would obviously fall on deaf ears. I let it go, thinking he was having an off day.
‘Has your brother got married yet?’ I prodded, to change the subject.
‘Yes. Big wedding last weekend. He’s all settled with his perfect blonde princess and Mercedes and new partnership at his law firm now.’
The bitter tone and twisted expression told me more than the words did how competitive the sibling rivalry was. ‘Ok–ay.’ Clearing my throat, I turned a printed spreadsheet over. ‘Shall we look at this one now then?’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, yanking it towards him.
I remember thinking: He’ll get over whatever he thought might be happening between us. He’s got other things going on.
Then odd things started happening.
Staff meetings mysteriously moved so I’d miss them, appointments were changed in the shared diary so I didn’t know when corporate clients would be arriving, making me look and feel hopelessly inept. Deadlines were altered, making me prioritise work in the wrong order and have to ask for extensions or face the embarrassment of sending it in late. I started keeping a paper diary so I could track deadlines accurately, make sure I wasn’t going mad. If I was out of the office, Tony would get everyone looking for me as if I’d gone AWOL, and would apologise quietly after the fact, saying he hadn’t seen the external appointments in my diary. When I asked what was going on he’d express innocence, saying he’d been confused.
I was so frustrated. His behaviour was unreasonable, but I wasn’t sure what to do. It all seemed so intangible and I wasn’t sure I could prove the ‘confusion’ was anything other than genuine human error. So I looked at our policies and procedures, researched sexual harassment online, went onto forums for research. It didn’t feel like he was bullying me as such and he was the junior employee. When I read all the horrifying true stories on the message boards and chat rooms of how people had ended up going off sick with work-related stress and falling into depression, even losing their jobs, houses and marriages, it made my own fears seem silly.
I settled for making notes of the date, time, location and content of any worrying conversations or events in my moleskin notebook, and called Human Resources. I didn’t name myself or Tony, wanting to guard my privacy and in hindsight, my pride. The HR Manager advised me to try and resolve the issues with my staff member informally and if it didn’t work to raise a formal complaint under the grievance procedure or take him through a disciplinary process, which would be taken seriously by the company. She took pains to ask if I felt physically threatened in any way but I couldn’t honestly say yes at that point.
Coming off the phone feeling better, I was determined to have a clear, minuted conversation with Tony, where I’d tell him I knew he was trying to undermine me and wouldn’t stand for it. That it’d be regarded as insubordination and a potential conduct issue. But before I had a chance, one awful evening cut my time at the casino short.
I never saw it coming, not what happened. Despite the storm warnings on the horizon I should have noticed.
Chapter Five
Now
‘Miss?’ The air hostess pops up next to me.
‘Argh!’ I jump, wrenched from the past, hand jerking around the glass on the tray. A wave of cold water sloshes over the rim into my lap. Yelping, I make an ‘ah–ah–ah’ sound as the icy liquid soaks through my trousers. It can only be this freezing because all the ice has melted. How long was I brooding for?
Alex frowns at me and I fall silent with a self-conscious grimace, standing to mop up the mess.
The stewardess shakes her head, pointing out the window. ‘Sorry, you’ll have to wait until we’ve landed. I’ll bring you a towel to sit on. Can you fasten your seatbelt please?’
‘Huh?’ I glance out the narrow cabin window, gobsmacked to see it’s night time, thousands of twinkling lights appearing as the plane banks to the right.
She brings me a thick navy towel. ‘Thanks,’ I murmur, tucking it under me. I watch as she takes a seat by the emergency exit, trying to ignore the flutter of panic in my stomach. I absolutely hate landing, always worrying the plane won’t brake in time and will overshoot the runway or that despite being strapped in I’ll get tossed around the cabin somehow. I may have watched too many disaster movies but it’s the first episode of Lost I blame, when the plane crashes on the mysterious tropical island and the beach is awash with broken fuselage and torn bodies.
Compared to the stress of being near-destitute, landing should be easy, but rationalising doesn’t stop me moulding my body into the damp seat, or my short bitten nails from digging into the slick leather armrests.
‘Once we’ve disembarked it’s a twenty-minute drive to the hotel,’ Alex says curtly, powering down his laptop.
I nod, staring at the headrest of the opposite chair and smarting from his tone. I don’t know what his problem is but he’s going to have to get over it. And I’m going to act like the strong independent woman I was before Tony bowled into my life. I will deal with Alex head-on … if I get off the flight alive.
The plane begins its descent. Screwing up my eyes, I start counting inside my head. The engines slow and my breathing comes in short, sharp bursts through my nose, jaw clamped tight. We hit an air pocket, dipping down, then up, and I let out a quiet squeak, ears popping. Please don’t crash, please don’t crash, please do not crash.
There’s a muffled protesting squawk from the stewardess and I sense movement but dare not open my eyes. What if the crew are preparing for an emergency landing? I’ll freak out completely. Better to stay in blissful ignorance.
I get a shock as long warm fingers curve round mine in silent comfort. I tilt my head and squint out of one eye and find Alex beside me, a serious expression on his face.
‘We’ll be fine,’ he whispers close to my ear and I shiver. ‘Just keep breathing.’
I didn’t have him down as the compassionate sort, but the thoughtfulness and his comment make me smile. Does he think I’m so scared I’ll stop breathing? That’d be a great front-page headline. Woman hyperventilates to death on plane, too wimpy to cope!
‘Okay,’ I murmur, ‘I’ll try.’
‘Good.’
His deep-blue long-lashed eyes stare into mine. My chest squeezes my heart into my throat, or at least that’s what it feels like. The connection of our hands brings us close enough that our arms are aligned, his shoulder against mine.
‘You’ve already dropped your end of the deal,’ he remarks.
‘Pardon?’
‘Oh good, you are still breathing. For a second there I wasn’t sure.’
Smart-arse, I think and can’t stop another smile from erupting. I shift away a bit. Maybe if we’re not so close … ‘Landing might present a challenge but I’m pretty sure I can cope with drawing breath.’ Is the shadow of stubble on his jaw getting darker? God, he’s sexy.
He cocks an eyebrow, a bit Sean Connery as James Bond. ‘From the shade of whi
te you’re currently sporting I wondered how much oxygen was making it to your brain.’
‘Gee, thanks!’ Mouth dropping open, I go to wrench my hand away.
His fingers tighten, stopping me. ‘Relax! I’m kidding. You really are anxious about flying aren’t you?’ He nods to the towel peeking out from under my legs. ‘Is that why you spilt your water?’
‘Yes.’ No, it’s because I’m clumsy as hell when I forget to pay due care and attention. ‘It’s not the flying, though, it’s the landing bit. I really don’t like the transition from air to ground.’
‘Why didn’t you say something earlier?’
‘I need this assignment.’ I pause. ‘And we couldn’t exactly boat across.’
He’s not quick enough to hide his smile. ‘No, but I would have tried to make it easier for you if I’d known.’
An automatic response would you really have cared? almost breaks free but he’s showing he cares now. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say lightly, ‘but thank you.’
‘So how do you usually cope?’ he asks after a moment, a deep line appearing between his dark eyebrows. ‘When you go on holiday?’
‘Er.’ I glance around the spacious cabin, avoiding eye contact. Then peek at him. ‘Don’t laugh.’
‘It can’t be that bad. What is it?’
‘I drink.’
‘So? Other people drink to calm their nerves.’
‘No, I mean, I drink. Three or four vodkas usually help achieve the right sort of numbness.’
‘Three or four? Over the course of the flight?’
‘Um, not exactly.’ Please don’t let him think I’m an alcoholic. ‘First one is when the seatbelt lights blink on.’ Does he know he’s stroking my knuckles? It’s making my insides go hot and funny. ‘Second one is when the plane starts banking for approach. Third is usually as we start our descent and I might slip a fourth in during descent.’
‘How do you get away with it?’
‘Miniature bottles,’ I admit shakily, as the stroking of my fingers gets faster and a waft of his sexy aftershave invades my nose. ‘I swig them quickly and discreetly.’
The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights Page 27