Trembling, his hands tighten round my hips. ‘Charley Caswell, you are one sexy woman,’ he says huskily.
The use of my fake name tweaks my conscience. He doesn’t know who I am or why I’m here. I should stop. It’s not fair on him. Then he pulses in my hand and my fingers close in response. Who am I kidding? ‘Your turn now,’ I say throatily, staring into his intense, blue eyes, and he suddenly flinches, body going bow-straight and still. I can feel the tension in his shoulders and arms.
‘Stop,’ he orders, voice barely there. ‘No,’ he says louder, pulling his hips away and releasing my legs so they slide down his. I’m left standing against the wall wearing only my knickers. ‘Shit.’ He runs a hand through his hair, nose flaring as the scent of sex rises between us. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t do this.’
‘Alex,’ I choke. ‘You’re going to stop now?’ Pointing at the bulge in his trousers.
He flushes, picking up his shirt and shoving his arms into it. ‘We shouldn’t do this. We work together.’
I go cold, common sense flooding back. It sounds like a cop-out, but he’s right. It doesn’t make sense. I’m risking everything. He also has some obvious baggage. His reasons might be different to mine, but having sex would be a really bad idea. Still, the abrupt rejection kills, and doesn’t prevent me wanting to launch myself at him and finish stripping him off for hot, dirty sex on the bedroom floor. I bite my tongue to hold back a moan, then inadequately cover my boobs with my hands. ‘Can you … ?’
‘Sure,’ he says crisply, passing my dress to me and deliberately staying as far away as possible. If he’s not careful a girl could get a complex.
‘Thanks.’ Pulling it over my head and smoothing it down my body until the hem hits the floor, I cross my arms around my waist to hide my braless boobs. ‘Can we talk?’
‘No.’ His face is shuttered and I hate it. ‘I’ve got to go. Now,’ he says grimly, fastening shirt buttons and bending over to put his shoes on. I don’t even know when he took them off. My mouth falls open at the sight of his sexy bum bent over right in front of me. My hands clench in my dress. I will not touch him.
‘It shouldn’t have happened,’ he plucks his bow tie off the bed. ‘It was a mistake, a big one. I’m leaving. We’ve got an early start in the morning.’
‘We have.’ A queasy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. This is embarrassing. A mistake? A big one? Even if I agree, he’s making me feel like a heap of crap. ‘And you’re right,’ I shoot out as he turns towards the door, ‘it would be better if it hadn’t happened. It was … crazy. But Alex, we’re both adults. You don’t have to run off as if I’m expecting you to propose marriage.’
He emits a sharp laugh, swinging round. ‘If only you knew.’
‘So, tell me.’
He hesitates, frowns. ‘Can’t, sorry.’ Setting off towards the door again.
Hot colour floods my face, ‘So I’m good enough to mess around with, but not to talk to?’
‘Charley,’ he recoils. ‘It’s complicated. I’m not in the market for a relationship. For anything. You wouldn’t—’
‘Understand? Nope. No way. You can’t do better than that? Do you know what?’ I shake my head, seething anger and sexual frustration driving me. ‘Don’t do me any favours.’ Bucketing forward I grab his jacket and shove it at him, ‘And don’t let me keep you.’
He seems shocked, holding the jacket against him. ‘Charley—’
‘No. Off you go.’ I can’t remember the last time I felt so humiliated. I pretty much push him across the room, needing him out right this minute.
He opens the door and a growl escapes me when he pauses in the doorway. ‘Wait.’
‘What?’
‘Before I leave … ’
‘Yes?’
Lowering his voice, ‘I need to know that you won’t tell anyone about this.’
I frown. ‘What?’
He smooths down his dark hair, erasing the spikes caused by my frantic clutching when we were kissing. His sharp cheekbones are bright red, eyes darting over everything but me. He looks how I feel. ‘You’re making this harder than it has to be.’
‘I apologise,’ I say coldly, stepping back. ‘Why don’t you try explaining to me in words of one syllable what you mean. Maybe then I’ll be able to follow.’
Rocking back on his heels, he shoves his hands in his pockets. ‘Don’t be like that. It’s just – I have to exercise a certain amount of discretion because of my role, my reputation. I fight hard to keep my private life private. So, can I trust that this will stay between us?’
Understanding dawns, and with it, gut-turning disappointment. He doesn’t trust me. It’s upsetting on a number of levels, not only the one related to The Plan. ‘Oh. Oh, wow. You’re actually asking me not to tell anyone. Gee, thanks. What’s the next step, get your lawyers involved and serve me with a gagging order?’ The remark hits home because his cheekbones darken further. ‘Alex, I feel sorry for you,’ I say quietly, sweeping together some of my tattered dignity. ‘That this is the world you live in. I don’t think anyone could pay me enough to. Don’t worry,’ looking him up and down I raise an eyebrow, ‘I’m not one of those kiss-and-tell girls. I definitely won’t be telling anybody what just happened.’
‘Do you mean that?’ he grinds out.
‘I told you earlier today, anything that happens this weekend I’ll keep a secret.’ I make sure to hold his gaze, let him read the sincerity in my eyes. I hope they’re glowing at him. I hope they’re scary glowy. I’m so bloody angry.
Letting out a whoosh of breath, he gives me a brief grateful smile. ‘Thank you.’
For a bright guy, he’s being so dumb. How can he not realise how badly he’s just offended me?
‘Don’t thank me Alex,’ using the most freezing tone I can manage, ‘I’m only thinking of myself.’
He frowns. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Simple really. I wouldn’t want anyone to know how incredibly stupid I’ve just been.’
An emotion I can’t interpret flares in his eyes. ‘Charley, hold on—’
‘Good night.’ It gives me overwhelming satisfaction to slam the door in his face.
Stumbling across the room, I throw myself on the bed. ‘You bloody idiot,’ I mutter at myself. ‘What the hell were you thinking? Remember why you’re here!’ Crawling under the covers, I can’t stop the memories flooding in.
Chapter Fifteen
Then
As I lurch into the flat after being suspended, dazed and dizzy, I feel like part of me has died. The fear sets in alongside the shameful humiliation. I slouch on the sofa and give in to it for endless hours while Jess is at work, staring dry-eyed at the wall, unable to compute what’s happened.
When I realise I’m shaking with cold, shock and hunger I make myself move. Showering and pulling on a pair of jeans and a vest top, I force some soup down and call our Human Resources department, getting a copy of every relevant policy I can think of emailed to me. Pouring over them, I highlight paragraphs and make notes. Drinking strong, black coffee and pinning my hair back, I drag my disordered thoughts together and am interrupted only by one of the security guards arriving with my stuff.
‘Thanks,’ I say brightly, looking him straight in the eye. I won’t be pitied, or act like someone who’s already lost. ‘I appreciate it.’
‘No problem,’ the man – one of Baz’s new recruits, Ian – gives me a quizzical smile and I wonder if I look a little manic. ‘Baz said it was important to get this to you,’ he prompts nosily.
‘It is. Thank you. Bye.’ I slide my diary, files and notepads from his grasp and wait until he’s trotted down the stairs before bumping the door closed with my hip. As I do, a piece of paper flutters to the floor and I sweep it up. The tears threatening all day finally spill over as I read the note.
Whatever it is, we’re all rooting for you.
I let go for a few minutes then wipe the tears away and march into the kitchen, where I’ve set up camp at
the table. If they’re rooting for me I’d better get on with it.
Some time later, Jess slams in. ‘What the hell is going on?’ She throws her bag into the corner, stripping her coat off.
‘Huh?’ I look up from my diary, where I’ve been backtracking to all the times Tony has said or done anything inappropriate over the last few months, to write up a chronological sequence of events for the disciplinary investigation. It feels good to be doing something meaningful, taking control.
‘I called the casino on my way home to see how you got on with sorting out Tony and they said you left this morning.’ She sets her hands on her hips, temper written across her face. ‘Then Kitty took me aside. Is it true?’
‘What?’ Sitting back in my chair.
‘You’ve been suspended?’
‘She shouldn’t have told you that.’
‘She’s your friend as well as your colleague, and as if you wouldn’t have told me.’
‘Of course I would, but I wanted to tell you myself! Sorry.’ Sucking in a breath: ‘I didn’t see any point in ruining your day too, so I was waiting for you to get home. That b—’
‘Bastard Tony,’ she finishes. ‘Yes. What did he do?’
‘He’s accused me of sexual harassment—’
‘He wishes! The little—’
‘And bullying.’ I rise to get fresh coffee started. ‘They’re taking it seriously. So I’m suspended until they’ve investigated and decided on an outcome.’
‘Which will be that he’s talking a load of crap.’ She drops her hands from her hips and shakes her head. ‘I don’t know how you can be so calm.’
‘I wasn’t.’ Handing her a chocolate biscuit from our heart-shaped tin: ‘When I got home I was a total mess. Had a bit of a meltdown, then got it together.’ Spooning sugar into her favourite mug, I pour hot water in and stir. ‘I’m calmer now because I’m doing something about it. And I know it will be okay. Because they know me. And because I didn’t do anything and he has no proof that I did.’
Thrusting the mug at her, as I say it I truly believe it.
‘What?’ I cry.
A young mum with a baby in a pushchair swerves sharply to avoid me, the crazed-looking redhead. ‘What?’ I repeat, moving off the path to sit down on the crisp green grass. ‘And people believe him?’
I’ve escaped to the leafy surroundings of Hyde Park. After two days in the flat getting my paperwork in order and waiting for an invite to a disciplinary interview, the walls have started closing in on me. I’m worried about running into someone from work, in case they ask me questions, or worse, avoid me out of awkwardness, but I can’t take it any more. Besides, if I’m as innocent as I keep telling myself, hiding away will only make people think I have a reason to be ashamed. I can’t let anyone doubt me.
‘People who know you don’t,’ Kitty answers gruffly in my ear.
‘He has no right to say anything to anyone. This is all confidential. And what about people who don’t know me?’
‘Look, people always kind of think stuff goes on between bosses and their PAs. Just because it’s the other way around doesn’t mean they won’t buy into it. How many films and books have you read about office romances? And you and Tony work closely together, you’re stunning, and some people, not me, think he’s not bad looking, in a blond chinless kind of way. It wouldn’t be impossible you’d be involved.’
I close my eyes, chest tightening. ‘Yes, but that I’d try and force him? That I’d bully him? This isn’t Indecent Exposure!’ I grab a handful of grass and hold onto it. ‘I’m demanding as a boss, ask for loyalty and dedication, but I’m not like that.’
Kitty clears her throat. ‘I know. Look, I have to go in a minute. I’m calling from work and the place is crawling, two guys I’ve never seen before and some woman from HR.’ She hesitates. ‘I’m saying the next bit as a friend and as someone who believes you. You have to realise it doesn’t look good. You’re gone and he’s still here, so he can say what he wants.’
‘Well I’ll be putting a stop to that,’ I say bitterly, clenching and unclenching my fingers in the grass ‘HR are going to get it in the neck for letting him talk about any of this.’
‘I don’t blame you. But it might already be too late.’
I’m sure my heart stutters. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Shit, Charley,’ she says feelingly. ‘It’s not just here they’re talking about it. I had a call from Suzie at the Manchester site about an hour ago, and then Josh got a call from Aaron in Brighton. They’ve all heard about it. And then I got a text from my cousin Mel, who works at that investment bank in Canary Wharf. There’s a bit of a buzz going round. She recognised your name.’
‘Oh, God. Oh no.’ I slump forward, forehead pressed against knees, tears leaking from the corner of my eyes. Years of my life, of tough grind, and my professional reputation, any hope of furthering a career in the City, all down the drain. Even if at some point it’s proved I’m telling the truth, my name will be tainted. People will always think Oh yeah, isn’t that the girl who … ? And even if they believe I didn’t harass or bully him, there’ll be those who wonder if an affair gone wrong was the root of the accusations.
‘This is so unfair,’ I explode, ‘It’ll be across the whole city in nanoseconds. I kept saying no. I told him to back off.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Kitty murmurs, voice quickening. ‘You know we all respect you.’
‘Yeah.’ I smile weakly as I think of the note from Baz. We’re all rooting for you. ‘I know.’
‘I’ll be a witness if you want,’ she offers, ‘I can tell them—’
‘That you never saw anything? That no one did? He was careful, Kitty. He never did anything when anyone was around.’ Letting go of the grass, I pull at the hem of my Asian-patterned maxi-dress. It’s sunny today and my skin is warm, yet I’ve never felt colder inside. ‘Thank you for the offer, really. For the show of solidarity, but there’s no point in anyone else getting dragged through the process. And we shouldn’t even be talking about this. It could get me in trouble.’
‘I could give a character reference. Say what an amazing manager you are—’
‘And he’ll just say we’re friends as well as co-workers. Please. I’ll be fine,’ I say briskly. ‘You all need to get on with things, pretend I’m still there and ordering you around.’
‘Okay, I get it. But rest assured, that pig won’t get an easy ride from us.’
‘That’ll just give him extra ammunition that “bullying” towards him is widespread, and land you in it too. Don’t give him that. Just be polite and professional, all right? I’m still your boss, so that’s an order!’
‘Yes, boss. I hear you.’
‘Good,’ I say softly. ‘Thanks for the call. Now, get back to work.’
‘Take care of yourself. Hope to see you soon.’
‘You too.’ You have no idea how much. Ending the call, I lie down on the grass, seething.
The disciplinary interview three days later initially goes well. The appointed investigator, Mitchell, an American senior manager from one of the southern casinos, listens as I tell him my view, staying calm but getting my point across. I detail the events that unfolded, my responses, and utterly deny all allegations of either sexual harassment or bullying. I answer all his questions honestly and pray the sincerity shines from my eyes.
But one thing becomes abundantly clear during the interview. As much as I wrote down what was happening and how I handled the matter, I can’t prove that it’s what happened. My phone conversation with HR for advice was anonymous – and I curse myself for my pride, because at least I’d be able to show I was having problems with him if I’d given my name – and my only notes are in my diary, which, as Mitchell points out, I could have written at any time.
‘How do you explain them being in different-coloured pens?’ I say, losing my cool.
‘I take your point,’ he remarks, ‘but you could still do that retrospectively.’ Pushing a sheet of p
aper towards me, ‘Now can you comment on this please?’
Casting my eyes over the list of times and dates: ‘What is this?’
‘A call log from HR. A record of durations of phone calls between Mr Ferrier and HR Advisers.’
I flinch. ‘What do you mean?’
‘This,’ he slides a bundle of paper-clipped pages over, ‘is a rough transcript of file notes of those conversations. Taken in real time, with dates on them. Mr Ferrier has agreed that these can be shared with you for the purposes of the investigation.’
‘I bet he has,’ I hiss, flipping through them. The bastard. Every time we had a run-in, any time I gave him advice to leave it alone, he called HR. Five conversations in which he names himself and states his manager’s behaviour is stressing him out, that she’s making him uncomfortable, that she’s making unreasonable requests and advances. That he doesn’t know what to do because he doesn’t want to lose his job.
Shoulders slumping, I look at Mitchell. ‘What do you expect me to say? It’s all lies.’
But it’s tangible evidence, I know that.
‘Is that your formal response?’ Mitchell scrawls something in his notepad.
‘I suppose so,’ I whisper, pole-axed. Tony planned this. He made sure he had a back-up plan. Right down to looking so concerned after the evening he put his hands on me in the file room. Bruised me. He apologised so I’d calm down, not call someone right away. So he could get to them first. He played me. I just don’t know why. Because I rejected him?
‘It looks like we’re done for today,’ Mitchell says. ‘Unless you have any questions or anything further to add. Do you want me to run through what happens next?’
‘No,’ I say numbly, lips tingling. ‘I know what the options are.’ Action or no action. Back to work or disciplinary hearing. And after this I have a horrible feeling which one it’ll be.
The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights Page 37
