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We approached his desk.
“Neil, this is Milly Cross from the comms department,” Christine said.
Neil lifted his head and zeroed in on me with an unnerving stare. The flash of recognition in his eyes told me he hadn’t forgotten our recent encounter. I tried not to shrink from his gaze, lest he take it as a sign of weakness.
Please don’t bring up the inside-out-top incident.
Christine left my side and retreated from the room. Neil stood up. He wore a clean white shirt, a navy tie, and grey trousers. He smelled faintly of dark floral cologne. Though he wasn’t tall, he possessed a commanding, take-no-prisoners presence. He extended a hand that was unadorned apart from the luxury watch on his wrist.
I reached out to shake his hand, but the moment we connected, a jolt of electricity coursed through me, and I pulled away. “Ouch! Did you feel that?” I asked.
“Static,” he said.
He didn’t attempt to shake my hand again. He sat back down and gestured to the chair opposite him. I lowered myself onto the seat.
“Amelia Cross…”
His voice was low and silky, with a nice little rumble to it. If that voice came from another man’s mouth, I’d find it sexy. Too bad it had to belong to him.
“Mr. Kingston,” I said.
“In this country, we use first names in the workplace, do we not? It’s Neil.”
“Yes, Neil.” His name felt strange on my tongue.
He continued to scrutinise me in a way which made me want to squirm in my seat. I tried to stay still and breathe calmly, though my thoughts threatened to deteriorate into a scrambled mess.
Hold yourself together.
“Thank you for coming at such late notice,” Neil said after an agonising pause. “I didn’t intend to start on the communications department today, but I’m running ahead of schedule.”
“I would have appreciated some detail in advance,” I said, arms folded tight across my chest.
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Would you? I think this information is best heard face to face.”
I felt my blood drain. “Christine said that no decisions have been made yet.”
“Not so. There are a few things I have already decided.”
He was toying with me; a cat playing with its prey. I couldn’t just sit back and take it. I had to know.
“Do you mean that I’m going to lose my job?” I asked.
Neil smirked. “That is a strong possibility. I would like to cut the communications department by half. At least.”
Half!
The faces of my colleagues paraded through my mind. Many of them would be let go, and there was a decent chance I’d be one of them.
What am I going to do?
Neil read the paper at the top of the neat pile on his desk. I glimpsed my name and realised it must be some kind of employee profile.
“Your job title is communications assistant. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been in the role for three months.”
