When I don’t move, Mr McAvoy waves the tips of his gold ring covered fingers in a dismissive manner. “Please return to the office, Miss Becker. You have a lot of hard work ahead of you, best to get on with it straight away.”
Blinking myself out of my daze, I find my feet, tucking my perfectly untouched notepad and pen to my chest. “T-thank you for this opportunity, Mr McAvoy.”
The old twat doesn’t even look up from his papers, instead giving me a glimpse of his balding head. “Mhm.”
So, I try again. “I won’t let you down.”
“I would hope not,” he grumbles, practically pissing all over my parade.
“Come on, Calla.” Tom makes a grab for my arm. He’s not rough, but he’s not exactly gentle either. “I’ll walk you back to your cubicle.”
Feeling rather like a rabbit stuck in a trap and hating every fucking second of it, I follow Tom’s stride until we’re out of the glass prison.
Extricating myself from his grip, I fix my eyes on hismurky brown ones. I watch a flash of annoyance blow his pupils wide before he forces his small lips into a smile. Although, it’s more like a grimace.
“I think I can find my way back to the cubicle I’ve been working in for the past three years from here, Thomas.”
If it’s at all possible, Thomas draws himself up to stand even taller than his already six-foot frame. We’re standing so close his chest grazes my shoulder as he inhales, peering down his beaklike nose at me.
“Formality doesn’t suit you, Calla.”What the fuck does that mean?“After years of knowing each other, you should have learned to call me Tom, by now.”
We’ve hardly known each otheryears. A year maybe, at a push.
I’ve been working at McAvoy and Fraser for almost three years – the blissful years in which I didn’t even know Thomas McAvoy existed. Until he arrived one morning, about eleven months ago, declaring himself my boss’ nephew.
“Tom, then.” I have to force the words to fall from my tongue. Can this conversation just be over already so I can get back to work? A thrill of excitement runs through me at the thought of sinking my teeth – metaphorically of course – into a new client and their portfolio. Already, I’m dreaming about their tax bracket and the different boroughs of London they will have declared their interest in finding a property within.
“Better.” He grins. I hate it. “Give me a shout if you need anything. My office door is always open for you, Calla.”
I don’t miss the double entendre dripping from his words.
I don’t think anybody within listening distance misses it either.
Holding back my own grimace, I hold Thomas’ stare for a heartbeat and then I spin on my heel, blonde hair flying outbehind me. Ignoring the heated gaze of his eyes on my arse, I tap twice on Carmen’s desk – our secret code – drop my unused notebook and pen onto my chair and hightail the rest of the way to the women’s bathrooms.
Barricading myself into the second to last stall on the left, I give it a couple of minutes before Carmen folds herself into the cubicle, too, locking the door behind both of us.
“Tom flirting with you again?” she asks, closing the toilet seat lid and perching herself atop of it. We have to meet in the bathrooms to talk shit because I know for a fact the staff room is camera operated up to its eyeballs – Thomas probably watches the CCTV himself, lipreading to gather gossip – and we can’t talk plainly on the office floor for fear of Thomas’ brown noser dogs reporting back to him.
“Mhm.” I drop my voice to a whisper as a full body shiver wracks through me, “I wish he’d just piss off.”
“I think every single woman in the office feels the same way, girlfriend. Maybe in the whole ten-mile radius.”
Nodding, I flatten my palms to the cool wooden door of the stall and blow out a large breath. “I’m starting to think I should just shove a ring onto my finger and pretend I’ve fucked off to Gretna Green over the weekend.”
“It’s not a bad idea.” Carmen grins. “Any man would be lucky to have you. Fake or not.”
I send a grateful smile to my best friend; no matter what the occasion she somehow always knows what I need to hear.
“Well, if I can’t find a willing man, we’ll just have to elope together, Car.”
“I’d have to tell Jack first, but deal.”
“Ugh,” I groan aloud, tipping my head back to face the textured ceiling, eyes snagging on an old water stain. “Where do men get the audacity? Hm?”
“When you find the answer, be sure to let me know.”
I huff out another breath, glancing down quickly to check the time on my watch. I’ll give myself three more minutes of reprieve before I have to go back out into the wolf’s den.
