“That’s not all,” he cuts me off.
Of course it’s not.
“I need you to accompany me to a charity event next Wednesday evening.” There’s no question in there.
“Okay . . . fine. What’s the event?”
“Charity auction by Trafalgar Lifestyle Stores.”
Shit. I hope to god that Sir Whitmore isn’t there.“You never invite me to these. What’s expected?”
“The old man doesn’t exactly have a glowing opinion of me.” His jaw clenches with barely contained irritation. Gee, I wonder why. “That’s where you come in. You’re the people person here. Astute, able to read a situation.”
He wouldn’t be saying that if he saw me with Sir Whitmore this morning.
“Are you paying me a compliment?” I ask.
“Considering the mistakes you’ve made over the past few weeks, don’t push your luck.”
I make a huffy sound. “What do you need me to do?”
“Find me an ‘in’ with Whitmore. Right now, the guy is letting emotions cloud his business judgment. That’s where you come in. Find the old guy’s weakness. That’s why I’m bringing you, rather than Ollie or some random date.”
“I’ll do my best,” I say, trying to ignore the butterflies going mental in my gut.
I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with this. I told Sir Whitmore that his coffee was garbage, which might be an in, but it’s not a great one.
And more importantly, I’m not sure I’m okay with being complicit in exploiting the old man’s vulnerabilities. He and his son are known for being genuinely good guys—philanthropists who pour their hearts and souls into helping the homeless, the NHS, and all sorts of other worthy causes.
Liam narrows his eyes at me. “Spit out whatever’s on your mind.”
I pause, weighing my words carefully. But he did ask for the truth. “Maybe Sir Whitmore has good reasons to dislike you. Hewants to preserve TLS’s legacy. You just want to sell it to the highest bidder, which basically means chopping it up into pieces and hawking them off to some faceless conglomerate in Hong Kong or Dubai.”
Liam’s lips curl into a distinctly unimpressed smirk, his eyes flashing with a hint of danger. “Well then, I guess you’ll just have to work your magic and convince him that I’m not such a big, bad wolf after all. That I’m a caring businessman who only has TLS’s best interests at heart.”
I snort, the sound escaping before I can stop it. “You mean you want me to lie through my teeth.”
Those chocolate-brown eyes flare with annoyance. Liam might claim to want the truth, but he sure as hell isn’t used to hearing it.
“You really do have a remarkably low opinion of me, don’t you?” he murmurs.
He’s read my diary. It’s not like I can backpedal now and pretend I think he shits rainbows and sunshine out of his perfectly sculpted ass. The cat’s out of the bag.
“With all due respect,” I reply evenly. “My opinion of you doesn’t matter, Liam.”
“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” he states bluntly, his tone laced with a biting edge that makes me want to flinch. “I don’t need you to like me, Gemma. I just need you to do your job. Charge whatever dress you need on the company card. Spare no expense.”
“Got it,” I say, my mind already racing with the logistics of finding a formal gown that meets Liam’s undoubtedly exacting standards.
There’s no way this is going to last. Sooner or later, he’s going to get fed up with my honesty and fire me.
CHAPTER 15
Gemma
This week at workhas been . . . interesting, to say the least. Liam and I have fallen into this bizarre new rhythm, where I find myself being a lot blunter with him about work stuff than I normally would be. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly spewing the kind of verbal diarrhea I unleash in my diary. But still, there’s a new level of honesty there that feels both refreshing and slightly terrifying.
And then there’s this tension between us that I can’t quite put my finger on. I don’t know if it’s lingering awkwardness from the diary fiasco, or if it’s something else entirely.
