His eyebrow arches, a flicker of dark amusement lighting up his eyes, momentarily dimming the rage. “Sir?”
“Liam,” I correct, my smile so wide and manic I must look like the Joker on a bad acid trip. “It just shows, doesn’t it? Money doesn’t buy you loyalty. It just means you’re surrounded by unscrupulous people.”
He studies me. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
I don’t know. Let me think. Oh, right. You’ve been fucking your business rival’s wife behind my back. But other than that, no, everything’s peachy.
I should have called in sick. My fist clenches at my side, my nails digging into my palm as I fight to keep my shit together. There’s no way I can let loose in the office, and I don’t trust myself to stay calm if I open my mouth. I’m afraid if I try, all that will come out is a string of expletives. Or worse, a sob that might never end.
But there is one thing I need to know, because this isn’t just about me.
“I’m just tired, didn’t get my coffee fix this morning,” I say. “It’s so weird. Jimmy’s coffee cart is shut down. He never said anything about going away, and he usually gets cover. It’s never shut.”
For the second time, something crosses his face. I used to think Liam wore an unreadable mask. Now I realize I can read him like a book when he’s lying. Perhaps he never used to lie to me, when I was just HR. But now he does.
“Ah yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair, his jaw clenching like he’s trying to choose his words carefully.
“Do you know something about it?” I prod.
His expression hardens, like he doesn't want me prying any further. “They’re just doing a few uplifts to some of the carts,” he says dismissively.
Lies. It’s clear on his face, in the stiffness of his shoulders.
“Emergency uplifts? Jimmy would have said. He was talking like he wasn’t going anywhere.”
“I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”
“Right.”
“So, shall I see you tonight?” he asks, the change of subject so transparent it’s almost insulting.
“Maybe. I’ll let you know later, okay?”
He scrutinizes me for a moment, and I silently pray he leaves it at that.
“Sure,” he says finally.
I force another smile. “I better get going.”
With that, I stride toward the door, managing to make it out of his office and back to mine without bursting into tears. But it’s a close call.
CHAPTER 41
Gemma
I stare at theemail from Sir Whitmore’s admin guy, my heart sinking as I read the confirmation: the carts aren’t getting any fancy “uplifts.” He has no clue what I’m talking about. I had slipped the question into a separate work email, casually mentioning that I just happened to notice Jimmy’s cart was closed down.
That’s all the proof I need of Liam’s lies, right there in black and white.
So for the first time in . . . I can’t even remember how long, I find myself wandering over to St James’s Park for lunch. It’s like my body’s on autopilot, steering me away from the office and away from Liam.
I plop down on the grass, not giving a toss if I stain my work skirt. I kick off my pumps and let my toes wiggle in the grass. Some people come hereevery dayfor a one-hour lunch break. I bet they don’t even check their emails while they chew.
I love this park. The ducks and royal swans are just living their best lives, gliding around that cute lake, surrounded by greenery and wildlife. It’s like someone took a chunk of countryside and plopped it in the middle of London.
Sandwich in hand, I just . . . observe. When was the last time I looked at the world around me instead of my bloody inbox?
The park’s buzzing with life and disgustingly happy people. There’s a group of office workers nearby, shoes off, lounging in circles. They look like they enjoy each other’s company, like they’re not constantly trying to one-up each other for a bigger bonus. Imagine that.
