by Laura Burton
Frank prowled up and down the tables, his narrow eyes flitted from desk to desk, looking for a reason to fire someone on the spot. He loved two things; drama and being in control. He was also quite fond of peppermint tea. The minty aroma followed him wherever he went, and he almost always complained of a stomach ache.
Julie figured that Frank loved to stir up drama so that everyone couldn’t think about anyone other than him. Behind the harsh look on his face, Julie saw a pair of fearful eyes, probably dreading the day someone called him out for who he really was. A fraud.
Julie watched him approach a small woman with bright red hair. She was slumped over her desk immobile; she’d evidently caught his attention. He stopped one foot away from her desk and leaned toward her with rounded shoulders like a lion creeping up in its prey. The slow and steady rise and fall of the woman’s back told Julie that she might have nodded off—an easy thing to do with the steady sound of machines whirling like white noise. Yet an unforgiveable offence in Frank’s book.
Had Julie been any closer, she would have kicked the woman’s ankle or something. But being two desks behind only offered her a perfect view of a situation that was entirely out of her control. The sounds of the machines dissipated as everyone—including Julie—understood what was about to go down.
“Ms. May,” Frank snapped. The woman’s ginger hair nearly stood on end as she jumped. “I’m sorry. Was I interrupting a siesta? Pleasant dreams?”
“I’m sorry, my daughter is teething, and I didn’t get much sleep last night––”
“Oh, interesting. So, you think it is acceptable for Estelle to pay haggard mothers to catch up on their shut eye?”
Julie clamped her hands over the edge of her seat as her blood boiled. She imagined herself charging across the room to the woman’s defense.
She remained frozen in her seat.
The woman was crying now. Her whole back wobbled as she mumbled her apologies. Frank straightened and curled his lip. His eyes glinted.
“Don’t let it happen again,” he said with a sneer. The room as a whole sighed with relief.
Crisis averted. There will not be any firing today.
Satisfied the danger had passed, Julie returned to her skirt and finished sewing the hem. She resisted the urge to look up as she sensed Frank walking, his peppermint fumes lingering. She looked up expecting to see him gone, but he was standing over her desk. A rising sense of nervousness caused her muscles to stiffen.
“A word with you in my office.”
Julie glanced around the hall. Though Frank spoke in a low voice, she noticed the room’s attention was now on her. A silence hung in the air like a dark cloud. Julie swallowed and rose to her feet and followed Frank, who was looking at the floor.
It was a long, slow walk to Frank’s office. Wild scenarios flashed across Julie’s mind as she attempted to work out what Frank wanted to speak to her about.
“You’ve won the company lottery. Here’s a check for one million dollars. Noelle loved your work so much, and she wants to hire you as her personal seamstress.”
She was not sure which scenario was less likely.
They reached the small office and Julie stood in the same spot she was in when Noelle burst into the room the day before. Frank took his place at the leather seat behind his desk and lowered himself down like a king. He gestured for Julie to take a seat opposite. She obliged and rested her hands in her lap, waiting for her fate.
“I want to make it irrevocably clear that you broke a serious company policy.” Frank poured a drink and surveyed Julie over his glass. She eyed the tangerine-colored liquid, as he swirled it around, then swallowed.
“Are we still talking about the dress?” she asked. Frank put his glass down and closed his eyes for dramatic effect.
“The materials in this building belong to Estelle. Employees are not to take anything home. Not only could something happen to damage the product––”
“But nothing happened, it was fine. Noelle––”
“Don’t say that name in here.” Frank opened his eyes and glared at Julie as if she had uttered the worse curse word known to man. Julie fell silent and pressed her lips together to stop herself from humming with disapproval. Frank picked up his glass and stood. He turned his back on her and looked out the large window overlooking Central Park.
“Belligerent. That’s what you are.”
Julie’s mouth fell open. Frank was known to be paranoid about his position, always thinking the workers were plotting mutiny. Julie could not fathom how he came to the conclusion she was hostile. Did she not do everything he asked? The dress was fine. Noelle got what she wanted. The photoshoot went ahead and she even helped with that too. And when he shouted at the poor mother moments before, she held her tongue and just watched.
“You have a total disrespect for rules and company policies. And you often have a look of contempt.”
Flashbacks crossed Julie’s mind as she remembered Emily telling her she could read Julie like a book.
“I always know when you’re mad at me. You have a look of thunder on your face.”
Julie chewed her lip and curled her fingers, digging her nails into the palms of her hands.
“I’m sorry, Frank, it won’t happen again.” She tried to sound genuine. But her skin was burning, it were as if her blood had come to a boil and was now evaporating through her pores.
How can he stand there and say these things?
“You’re officially on probation. If you step a toe out of line, you’re out that door. Do you understand?”
Julie nodded. Her head thumped as the sound of her heart beat drummed against her ears.
“Yes, Frank. I’m sorry.”
Julie swallowed again. Trying hard to stop the rant bubbling in her chest. She wanted to tell him he was a jerk. No one liked him. He treated the staff so poorly, she had a mind to go to HR about it. Perhaps she could get ahold of Noelle, she would be quite happy to dispose of him.
“Now get out.” He chugged the drink and slammed the glass on the desk.
Julie collected her things and left the building without speaking to anyone. She would often keep to herself in the office. The other staff gossiped in the kitchen or hovered around each other’s machines when Frank went on his breaks, but Julie kept her head down and avoided making conversation. It wasn’t that she didn’t like people, she just didn’t like being around people. Making friends, striking up chit chat, and maintaining conversation were exhausting activities. Emily understood that. She accepted Julie’s awkwardness, perhaps even loved her for it. Usually Julie would pick up the phone and call Emily at times like these. When her emotions had risen to the surface, and she didn’t know what to do about it. But this predicament would mean letting Emily know that her job was less than perfect, that her boss was a nightmare to work with, and that deep down she wanted to give him a piece of her mind, spill his peppermint tea over his desk, then leave for good.
But Emily wouldn’t understand. Julie would be subjected to another rant—and she just suffered an extended one about staying away from Harry. When Julie filled her in on the threats, Emily started to speak so rapidly that Julie could only catch a few words.
“Police… creepy… get the heck out!”
Julie shuddered. No. She didn’t need another Emily rant, and her warnings against Harry only made him more enticing.
He was now the forbidden fruit.
And she was hungry.
As if the universe had answered her wish, Julie’s phone vibrated in her bag. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen. A grin flashed across her face and she answered the call.
“I was just thinking about you.”
Chapter Twelve
Aggressive Negotiations
Harry rubbed his temples against the migraine starting to form. It had been a long day. The press tour for his upcoming movie was finally back on track. His team was able to rally and get Sabrina to rejoin the group. Harry didn’t ask how many presc
ription drugs it took to get her to agree to it; he didn’t want to know. With Sabrina back onboard, Matt was happy, and that was all that mattered.
The London premier was scheduled the day after the charity dinner. Harry wondered whether he should take Julie to such a public event. Going to London will get us out of the country, so surely the mysterious threat won’t follow us to England, Harry thought.
Benjamin firmly advised that he leave Julie in the US and go to the charity dinner alone. It might be for her own good, but Harry couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his mother and having to put up with her disappointment, nor would he turn around and tell Julie not to come. No, he couldn’t do it. Harry was a man of his word.
He silently apologized to Benjamin and picked up his phone.
“I was just thinking about you.”
Harry’s heart warmed at the sound of Julie’s gentle voice. “You were?” he asked, his voice a little too high to sound normal. “I was wondering if you were busy tonight.” He tried to sound casual, but his elevated heart rate made him feel dizzy with excitement. Just the idea of seeing Julie again had him grinning ear to ear.
“I’ve had a murder of a day at work. Whatever it is, I’m in.”
Harry walked Julie toward the glass doors of his exclusive gym with his hands covering her eyes. Julie chuckled and reached out blindly ahead of her as they stumbled forward.
“Is this really necessary?” she said through a laugh. Harry was beaming, her perfume flooded his senses, and the warmth of her body so close to his sent rushes of excitement through him. Harry knew the best remedy for a frustrating day at work—his brother had pounded that lesson into him for years, having owned his own gym in England. Benjamin rolled his eyes as he pulled open the glass door and watched Harry walk through with Julie in front of him.
“I hope I don’t end up walking into a wall,” Julie said with a hint of reproach in her voice. “Why does it smell like feet? Is that workout music?”
The steady beat of the music echoed in the gym hall. There was a mirrored wall to the far side and every work-out machine stood like trophies in the room. Harry removed his hands from Julie’s eyes and keenly watched her, excited to see her reaction. She blinked a few times to adjust to the blinding lights that reflected off the shiny white flooring.
“Oh wow.” She marched forward a few steps and stood resting her hands on her waist in a superhero pose. Harry’s eyes lingered on the back of her head; her white blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail revealing her elegant neck.
“When you said ‘work through our frustrations,’ I thought you meant go for a run around Central Park.” She turned to face Harry and folded her arms.
“Are you kidding? Jogging in Central Park is dangerous for normal people—”
“Oh, that’s right, you’re not ‘normal,’ you’re a millionaire,” Julie teased. But automatically raised her hand to her mouth as soon as the words came out, and her wide eyes made Harry think she had spoken too soon.
Billionaire, technically. But who’s counting?
Harry blushed furiously. “The carriage ride was risky, even with the security, but I don’t think I can chance it with a run out in the open.” Harry offered a casual smile as Julie stared at him. She stood rooted on the spot, looking cute in an oversized blue shirt and black leggings. Harry thought she looked stunning in formal wear, but seeing her in casual clothes made her look even more tempting. She stood there looking like at him with no idea just how badly he wanted to hold her up and kiss her.
He snapped out of his daydream and gestured to the large, black punching bag hanging in the center of the room.
“I come here when I need to release some tension. You know, when you deal with people all day and don’t get to say what’s really on your mind.”
Julie hummed and nodded in response.
“Shall we?” Harry asked politely as they walked to the punching bag. He stooped down and picked up a pair of boxing gloves and handed them to Julie. “Here, put these on.”
Julie obliged, glancing at Harry with a look of amusement as she did so.
“All right. Now what?” She stood with her arms hanging limply at her sides; it looked like a pair of bowling balls replaced her delicate hands. Harry walked behind the bag and asked, “Okay, so tell me about Frank.”
“He’s a––” Julie’s voice faltered, she bent to the side and her face came back into view. It was flushed as she considered how to finish her sentence.
“––moron?” Harry offered. Julie’s face broke into a grin.
“Yes,” she said firmly. Her head bobbed as though cementing the fact. Harry clapped his hands together and pointed to the bag.
“Okay, Frank is a moron. Now throw everything you’ve got into this bag.”
The bag jostled side to side as she pummeled it, alternating fists and huffing. Harry raised his brows and clapped.
She’s done this before.
“Tell me, what did you want to say to him today? When he was picking on that woman? What was her name again?”
“I don’t know.” Julie sounded breathless. “Isn’t that terrible? I should know the names of the people I work with.” She threw herself into another burst of punching. “I wanted to walk up to him and say, ‘Frank, you’re a jerk. Stop treating everyone like your servants. Nobody likes you. If you just tried to be more like a leader and less like a dictator––’” She threw more punches into the bag. Harry nodded along.
“Nice. I like it. Go on.”
Harry walked around and watched Julie really get into it. She threw punches and smashed her knee into the bag for extra effect. Tirades of shouting and angry yelling followed. The sight took him by surprise, and he knew his brother would be seriously impressed.
“I had no idea you had so much anger inside of you,” Harry remarked as she slumped with one arm around the bag and took deep breaths. Her face was blotchy and shiny with perspiration. Her blonde hair was frizzed at the hairline.
“Neither did I,” Julie said while panting.
“You know, the other night… at the opera,” Harry began as he rubbed his neck. Julie eyed him carefully and straightened her back.
“It’s all right. I know you were just joking,” she said with her hands raised.
“Joking about what?”
“Oh, you know, the whole ‘will you marry me’ thing? It’s okay. I was just playing along.”
Harry resisted the urge to clamp his teeth against his lip but set his jaw instead.
“Right. What a relief,” he forced himself to say after a moment. Julie was studying his expression now; he tried to fashion a causal smirk.
“I mean… we just met,” she added carefully.
Harry nodded along and broke into a false laugh, his heart sinking. Maybe Benjamin was right; it was only infatuation between the two of them. He needed to cool off and act casual if he had any chance of spending more time with Julie. He figured one more intense move would have her running for the hills.
“Right. I do want to spend more time with you though,” Harry said. Already forgetting his own promise to play it cool. He braced for Julie to eye him warily. Her beaming smile set his worries at ease.
“It’s a good thing too. We’re going to England in two days.” She pulled off the gloves and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. Seeing her looking so confident and pumped with adrenaline sent flutters of excitement in Harry’s midriff.
“You know, Frank really is a moron. And if he gives you any more trouble, I want you to tell me. I know Estelle and––”
“Oh no,” Julie said waving her hands and shaking her head at Harry. “You’re not doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“The ‘I’m going to step in and save the day’ thing. I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”
Harry stared at Julie blankly.
“I know that,” he said honestly. “You’re the real deal, aren’t you?”
The que
stion sent a flush of color to Julie’s face, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I just have to raise the courage to speak to him face-to-face… and not this punching bag.”
Chapter Thirteen
What Happens in London…
Julie spun around in the salon chair to face the mirror and gasped.
“It’s so short!” she said, running her fingers through her silky-smooth hair. The stylist furrowed her colorful brows. Clearly, this was not the reaction she was hoping for. Emily however, clapped and made sounds of approval.
“It’s still touching your shoulders, you look gorgeous.”
Julie leaned forward to inspect the roots. A beautiful platinum shade of blonde once more. No more evidence of her true mousey hair color showing through.
Harry was due to pick her up in a few hours. Emily insisted on taking her straight from work to Fifth Avenue for some last-minute shopping, and she booked Julie an appointment with her stylist. Emily loved a good makeover. Although she disapproved of Julie’s decision to go to England, she put aside her judgment and focused on the task at hand. Mission: make Julie look like a celebrity.
They had their nails done, brows threaded, and Julie finally found out what a Hollywood wax was—which she was never getting again. She winced as she shifted in the chair, still sore.
“We’ve got just enough time to grab dinner. Where do you want to go? We look so fabulous; it’ll be a waste to grab take out and hide in your apartment.” Emily glanced at her phone and chewed her lip as she thought.
“And yet, that’s exactly what I want to do,” Julie said with a sigh. She thanked the stylist and collected her shopping bags while Emily handed her card to the lady at the cashier.
“If that’s what you want, I suppose you’ll be dealing with a lot of public appearances over the next few days.”