Joel goes to open his mouth and then shuts it again; his eyes flick to me for reassurance and I give him a stifled smile.

“Don’t look at Kathryn, look at me. Who specifically out of you three uploaded the system?”

“I approved it,” I reply.

“That’s not what I asked,” Elliot replies sharply. “Who uploaded this system?”

Fuck’s sake.

“I did,” Bob whispers.

Elliot sits back in his chair, and glares at Bob. “Tell me . . . Bob.” He sneers. “How many Miles Media employees are in this building?”

Bob swallows the lump in his throat. “Around two thousand, sir.”

“Two thousand, one hundred and seventy-one,” Elliot barks. “And what do you estimate the hourly wages are for that many people, Bob?”

Bob begins to perspire.

“Mr. Miles, with all due respect . . .” I say.

“Do. Not. Interrupt. Me. Kathryn,” he bellows.

We all wither in our seats.

“The hourly wages for this building alone are seventy-four thousand, nine hundred pounds.”

We all sit still. Fuck . . . get me out of here.

“Let’s multiply that by the three hours that I didn’t have any goddamn internet,” he growls.

Bob drops his head.

“That’s two hundred and twenty-four thousand and seven hundred pounds your incompetence has cost me.”

I exhale. Oh hell.

“Would you like me to deduct that from your salary?” He looks at the three of us.

We stay silent.

“Answer me!” he bellows.

“No sir,” we all reply.

He stands and leans on the desk with both hands as he glares at us. “And yet, you have deducted it from mine,” he growls. “Tell me why I shouldn’t terminate your contracts on the spot.”

He’s such an asshole.

I sit back, angered. “That’s fine with me, terminate my contract.”

Elliot narrows his eyes, his temper seconds away from an impending explosion. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Run away from your incompetence instead of facing the music. I don’t know why I would expect better.”

I roll my eyes.

“Do not roll your eyes at me,” he yells, making us all jump.

The door opens. Christopher pokes his head in and looks between us and fakes a smile. “Elliot, can I see you for a moment, please?”

“I’m busy,” he snaps.

“Now.” He widens his eyes.

Elliot marches from the room and the door clicks closed behind him. Bob and Joel slump in their seats.

“Don’t you dare resign,” Joel whispers.

“I agree,” Bob says.

“Screw this,” I whisper back. “I’m sick of his shit, he’s a fucking asshole. I’m out of here.”

“Calm down, he’s been like this for years. Why is it suddenly bothering you now?” Joel whispers.

Because I didn’t want to sleep with him then.

“I don’t know why he’s going on and on,” Bob whispers. “He makes two hundred thousand pounds every ten minutes.”

The door reopens and Elliot walks in, takes his seat, his composure completely restored.

Christopher Xanax Miles: he’s the only one who can calm Elliot and his temper.

I’ve seen it many times.

Elliot picks up his pen and sits back as he looks between us. “This is not to happen again, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” the three of us reply.

“I’m disappointed. When I pay for the best, I expect the best.” He exhales heavily as he looks between us and tosses his pen onto the desk as if giving up. “You may return to your offices.”

We all stand.

“Kathryn, you stay back. I need to see you as regards to the prospectus you sent through.”

My anger bubbles and I sit back down, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying something snarky like Fuck you and fuck right off.

The door closes behind Joel and Bob and his eyes come to me.

We stare at each other for a moment until I can’t stand it anymore and I raise my eyebrow.

“What do you want to discuss about the prospectus?”

He gets up and comes around the desk and leans his behind on the back of it. He crosses his legs in front of him at the ankle and grips the desk behind him with two hands.

“Don’t threaten me, I don’t like it,” he says calmly.

“It wasn’t a threat.”

“I keep my professional and private lives separate, I thought you could too.”

“I do.” I straighten my back. “I mean, I am.”

His eyes hold mine. “That’s a lie. You’ve never threatened to leave before. In fact, you have stayed to spite me. Suddenly today, you want to resign?”

“Nobody gets to speak to me like that, whether I’m sleeping with them or not.”

“We haven’t slept together . . . yet.” He accentuates the yet. “Although, I’m rectifying that situation very soon.”

You wish.

I stay silent, unsure what to say that won’t sound melodramatic. He’s right, I’ve never contemplated leaving before today; maybe I can’t separate the two.

“I leave for New York in the morning,” he says.

I nod.

His eyes hold mine and then he raises an impatient eyebrow. “And?”

“And what?” I reply.

“Am I going to see you tonight?”

“I’m going to be at the Christmas party like everyone else in the building.” I shrug casually. “So, I guess that means yes.”

He narrows his eyes. “What’s with the attitude?”

I stand. “You know, for an intelligent man, you’re pretty stupid. If you think you roasting me and my work colleagues over an honest mistake is a turn-on, you’ve got another thing coming.”

He puts his jacket back on and his hands in the pockets. “I’m a professional, Kathryn. I wouldn’t be who I am if I wasn’t. Incompetents won’t be tolerated, I don’t care what my relationship with them is.”

I squirm and look out of the window to evade his glare.

“Do you want preferential treatment—is that what you’re saying?”

“No, of course not,” I snap.

“Then look at it from my angle, do you want to be treated the same at work or don’t you?”

I clench my jaw . . . fucker has got me.

“I can separate the two,” he continues. “The Kathryn I work with and the Kate that I want.”

He puts his finger under my chin and brings my face up to meet his; his eyes drop to my lips. “Now let’s talk about Kate,” he murmurs. “I like her.”

His eyes are so blue . . . and I feel myself lean toward him.

Just one kiss . . .

I snap out of my trance. “Let’s not.” I turn and march from the office. I hit the elevator button with such force I’m surprised I don’t break it. I storm into the elevator and take it to the ground floor. I need to go for a walk in the fresh air to try and clear my head.

Everything is just so confusing at the moment. My life is a head-fuck . . . and not in the good way.

Music is piping through the gym and the sound of laughter can be heard throughout the space. Trays of champagne and beer are being walked around by waiters and there are balloons and Christmas decorations.

I’m at the work Christmas party and this isn’t how it was supposed to be. Miles Media was to be going away for a mini break overnight just outside of London, but the country club we were having it at burned down last month.

I stand at the back of the crowd with my team and sip my champagne as I people-watch.

Christmas parties always bring out the worst in people; you see your colleagues in a completely different way. Last year, Little Miss Innocent Prim and Proper from level two spent the night in one of the married managers’ rooms. She was the talk of the office for weeks. Marcus and Neil, who are both married, were caught kissing each other in the photo booth, and Mandy from level nine took her top off and danced in her bra because she was hot. I smile as I remember it—it really was a funny night.