“Did you actually ask him, or did you come over like the lord of the manor with him and just assume he’d come running?”
I drop my eyes from her gaze and hear her sigh loudly.
“Gabe, you know that doesn’t work on Charley.” She’s right. I’ve been the owner of Monkswood since I was eighteen. Filling my father’s shoes wasn’t easy, but I found that most people responded to the title, not the person, and acted accordingly. I’d forgotten to take that persona off when I met Charley, I was so focussed on wanting him back. No wonder he called me out on it too.
“Did you tell him how you feel?” My head snaps up at her question.
“What? Tell him that all the time we were friends I had a crush on him and didn’t realise that until after he left? And that every person I’ve ever met since has been held up to the Charley standard and has been found wanting? Even I know that’s more likely to make him run in the other direction, plus I have no idea what his preferences are.” And because I’m a coward.
“Well, yes, if you phrase it like that, he probably would, but maybe you should learn to communicate your feelings better.”
“I didn’t come here for you to point out my character flaws,” I mumble. “I need help.”
“They’re the same thing, sweet brother.” Imogen grins and I throw a cushion at her.
“It’s no use. He said no and it felt pretty final to me.” I return to sulking.
“You’re giving up just like that?” She sounds incredulous, but I just shrug, unable to see a way to convince him.
“What are you willing to do to get him back?”
“I’ll do anything, Immy, anything,” I say with determination.
Imogen sits in silence for a minute before letting out a low chuckle.
“What is it?” My sister’s schemes were always more devious than mine.
“I have an idea that might just work,” she says, and I lean forward to hear all about it.
CHAPTER FOUR
CHARLEY
I push through the doors of our office building, already a few minutes late, mostly due to the long queue in the coffee shop. I could’ve left without being served, but the coffee from the machine at work is barely drinkable, and I like my early morning coffee to be good, really good, to set me up for the day. Surely it can’t matter if I’m a few minutes late. I stayed until it had gone seven the other night to finish that damn report for Miles. I won’t get paid overtime for that or be allowed any time off in lieu, so if it takes a few minutes to get a good coffee so I can actually face the day at work, then I’m going to do it.
“There’s some post for you, Charley,” Sandra calls out once I’ve pushed the call button for the lifts. I sigh and turn back to the reception desk. As soon I get there I can hear the doors ping open. I grab the envelope she hands me and spin back round. I might just make it before they close again. I rush in and the door swishes closed behind me. Only then do I realise that Miles is already in the lift. I stifle a groan. Now he knows I’m late and mychances of being able to slide into my desk unnoticed are gone. He looks at me as if he’s thinking up the most derogatory thing to say when he spots the envelope still in my hand.
“What’s that? You know you aren’t allowed to receive personal mail at work.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I say, looking at it for the first time. The only mail I usually receive are mailshots from companies wanting to sell advertising space. But this is handwritten, so it doesn’t look like that. I stuff it into my bag so Miles can’t see it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he demanded I hand it over. We travel the rest of the way up to the twentieth floor, which is where the business is situated, in silence. The doors open and I hang back, letting Miles exit first. I follow, but before I get two steps he calls out to me.
“My office, now,” he barks before striding away to his corner office. I reach my desk and quickly put down my coffee and bag and shrug off my coat before following him. He doesn’t offer me a seat but I take one anyway.
“You’re late this morning.”
“I was getting coffee, there was a queue. But I stayed for two hours extra the other day to finish the quarterly report for you.”
Not liking that I answered him back, he starts a rant but I only half listen. I watch the vein in his neck bulge and wonder why I ever thought him attractive. I was flattered of course, when he paid attention to me a couple of months after I started working for him. I’d just broken up with Tony, and we’d been together for nearly five years. He was—still is—a good guy, but there was no spark there. For either of us. We parted amicably, but even so, I was in a low place and the flattery I received from Miles was abalm to that. We went out on a few dates, always very secretive. We even had sex, though the thought of that makes me gag now so I try to block it from my mind.
“And I expect that to be done by Monday.” I zone back into the room and realise I have no idea what he’s saying.
“Sorry, what needs to be done by Monday?”
“Haven’t you been listening?” Nope, I’ve been pondering what an odious man you are.
“I’m just seeking clarification.” I try to make it sound like I haven’t missed everything. He gives me an exasperated sigh.
“Julia is off sick. I need all the details for the Reynolds event by Monday so I can go through it with them.”
