“The reports you filed last week were wrong.”
“Wrong?” I sit further forward in my seat. “How were they—”
“You’ll need to stay back after work today to correct them.”
I furrow my brow in confusion. “Stay back after work? Can’t I just push back—”
“No.”
“But I have a meeting with a client today, I need—”
“Someone else will go in your place, instead.”
“Thomas—”
“It’s Mr McAvoy,” he grits, face turning a ruddy colour. “Don’tlet me catch you being slack again.”
“I…” My mouth hangs open. What on earth is going on? Nobody, and I mean nobody I work with has ever mentioned having to stay behind after work to correct a mistake they’ve made. Add on top of the fact, I’m pretty sure I didn’t make a mistake. I checked over those reports four, maybe even five times, before I hit send.
Thomas shuffles a bundle of paperwork in front of him, neatening the edges, before he glances back up at me. “Did you have a nice time on Friday night?”
What?!
I swear I have fucking whiplash.
“Friday night…”
“Your date. With Millen.”
“Millen? Oh. You mean Blake?”
Thomas nods shortly. He’s smiling, but the skin around his eyes bunches tightly, giving away his displeasure.
“I did. Thank you.” I spit the last two words from my lips, unable to look at him for a second longer, instead focusing on smoothing out my skirt.
“Did he f—”
A sharp rap on the glass door to Thomas’ office cuts through my ears, a familiar shock of brunette hair appearing.
“Excuse me.” Carmen smiles softly, surely aiming for a demure look. I would believe her too, if it wasn’t for the way she cuts her eyes to me. “I’m very sorry to interrupt, but there’s a delivery man asking for Calla.”
I can practically feel Thomas’ annoyance at being interrupted rolling off him in waves, slithering like venomous snakes just waiting for the right moment to pounce. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see him stand, playing with the knot of his perfectly crisp tie.
“That’s not a problem,” he all but coos. “Miss Becker and I were done here, anyway.”
I stand too, biting back the urge to roll my eyes. It’s quite a shame he’s not as stupid as he looks, otherwise he would have outed himself as a conniving prick months ago, but as is, Thomas is just as manipulating as he is smug. I bet half the men in this very office, the ones he’s purposefully befriended, don’t know the dangerous predator lying beneath.
“After you.” Thomas gestures for me to go first – of fucking course – staying one step behind Carmen and I.
A rush of gratitude fills me as Car sends me a subtle wink and for a heartbeat, I think perhaps she’s made the whole thing up until I spot a bored looking delivery man holding a large bouquet of flowers in his arms.
“Calla Becker?”
“That’s me.”
He all but dumps the bouquet in my hands, snapping a quick picture for proof and then toddling off, a half-hearted ‘have a good day’ muttered under his breath.
I’ve gathered a small crowd at this point, a handful of my co-workers peering at the flowers over their cubicles, some even walking over to get a better look.
