Page 6 of Never Gonna Happen

‘You look smart,’ said Mark, kissing her on both cheeks. Emily couldn’t tell him she’d been for an interview because they were still pretending she already had a job.

‘A meeting with my new boss,’ she said vaguely, smiling at the waitress as she handed over menus and put a jug of water on the table.

‘Do you have any plans to tell me where you’re off to?’ said Mark, filling Emily’s glass. He was wearing designer jeans and a pale blue shirt, custom-made by a man in Hong Kong. Emily recognised it as one she’d ordered a year before, along with four others in different pastel shades. He was almost fifteen years older than her but definitely didn’t look it; aside from his tailor, Mark spent an eye-watering amount on personal trainers and male grooming to keep the years at bay.

‘No plans at all,’ she said with a smile.

‘Not many architects in Green Park,’ Mark mused, tapping his manicured fingers on the table. ‘Why didn’t you want to come to my place?’

‘I didn’t want to see you,’ she said calmly. ‘I quit my job so I didn’t have to see you.’

Mark smiled. ‘But you’re still here.’

Emily shrugged. ‘Girl’s gotta eat.’

Mark watched her for a while as she pretended to read the menu, clearly not done with his interrogation just yet. ‘But you’re not going to work for one of my competitors, are you?’

‘I’d rather not say,’ said Emily. She knew Mark would find this infuriating, but it felt important not to just roll over and give him exactly what he wanted. She’d been doing that for two years.

They both sat in awkward silence while the waitress took their order for fake chicken burgers and a glass of wine each – red for Mark, white for Emily.

‘You know, I would have handled things differently if I’d known you’d take the news so badly,’ said Mark, ducking his head down to catch her eye. ‘I didn’t realise you’d become so attached.’

‘Neither did I,’ said Emily, pulling a stupid face to break the tension. The last thing she needed was for this to become a declaration of deep feelings.

Mark smiled. ‘It’s nice to know that you WERE attached, though.’

Emily realised she was here to massage Mark’s ego, in the absence of her willingness to massage anything else. Her wine arrived, so she slugged half of it. ‘So what’s this all about?’ she asked. ‘Why the message?’

He gave her his best lost puppy face. ‘I wanted to see you. I miss you.’

Emily nodded thoughtfully. ‘What you actually mean is you wanted to fuck me. Right?’ The couple on the table next to them looked up from their Tofu Pad Thai with raised eyebrows, but Mark didn’t waver for a second.

‘I won’t lie,’ he whispered with a seductive smile, leaning in close enough that she could smell the woody, citrusy scent of his aftershave. Aventus by Creed; she’d seen it on the shelf in his bathroom many times. ‘Watching you sit in my office in that tight skirt and screw me over for a month’s paid leave made me really, really want to fuck you. And now you’re wearing the same skirt and I’d take you over this table if you gave me half a chance.’

Emily didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or scream. He was such an arrogant shit, but he knew exactly how to push every one of her buttons. A reprieve from the growing warmth in the pit of her stomach came in the form of her phone vibrating in her handbag by her ankle. She quickly leaned down to fish it out – the screen said ‘private number’.

‘I have to take this,’ she said quickly, standing up and walking briskly out into the street as she swiped the screen to answer the call.

‘Miss Wilkinson? It’s Charles Hunter.’

Emily’s stomach fizzed with nerves and wine. ‘Hello, Mr Hunter.’

‘Is now a good time to talk? You sound like you’re outside.’

‘I am, but it’s fine,’ said Emily. ‘I’m just surprised to hear from you, I thought the agency would call.’

‘They’re calling the other candidates, but I wanted to call you myself.’

Emily squeezed her eyes shut and crossed her fingers. ‘OK.’

‘I’d like to offer you the job as my assistant.’

Fuck, thought Emily, but managed on this occasion not to say it out loud. Instead she went with ‘gosh’, which she was pretty sure she’d never said before in her life.

‘I don’t expect you to decide now, I’m sure you have lots more questions,’ he said. ‘So I have a proposal. I’d like to invite you to visit Bowford Manor on Monday if that’s convenient for you. I’ll send a car for you, all very casual, no need to dress up. It will give you some time to think about things over the weekend, then come and see what you think of the place. If you decide it’s not for you, I won’t take it personally.’

Emily’s insides were dancing a happy jig. ‘Thank you, Mr Hunter,’ she said. ‘I’d like that very much.’