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He keeps staring, so this time I smile sweetly. A few seconds later, he shakes his head and holds out a file. “My shredder is full. Go to reception and shred this paperwork.”

I take the file from him, giving it a quick glance. “What is it?”

“Confidential.”

“Okay.”

“Not for your eyes, Rose,” he says sternly. “And for God’s sake, don’t let that nosy bitch Nelly look at them.”

“Understood, Mr Edmanson.”

I turn and leave his office, already knowing I’m going to read what’s inside. Or at the very least, have a peek.

I have a bag of oranges in my hand as I cross the foyer of my building, heading for the elevator after my lunch break. I’m not a huge fan of citrus fruit, but I have to keep up with the lie I told earlier.

I don’t like lying; it’s one of my pet hates. But there was no way in hell I was going to let myself get roped into spending the weekend with that creep.

I exit the elevator when I reach my floor. I’m beginning to hate this place. I never know from one minute to the next how my boss will behave or what inappropriate comment he’ll make next. It’s exhausting having to constantly watch my back around him. All I want to do is my work and go home.

“Oh, Rose,” Nelly says as I pass the front reception desk. “A delivery came for you while you were at lunch.”

She stands, reaches for the ridiculously large arrangement of flowers sitting on the table behind her desk, and hands them to me. “Somebody bought me flowers?”

“Roses,” she clarifies as I stare down at the array of pastel colours. Pink, mauve, cream, lemon and peach. They’re the most beautiful bouquet I’ve ever seen, and they must have cost a pretty penny. That thought has my stomach churning.

If these are from Sir Hands-a-Lot—a sweetener to get me to agree to spending the weekend with him—I’m handing in my notice. “Who are they from?” Nelly asks.

I lift one shoulder. “I have no idea.”

“Your boyfriend?” She’s clearly fishing.

“I don’t have one,” I clarify. Nelly is the office gossip. Her nickname around here is Nosy Nelly. I was warned about her on my first day.

“There’s a card,” she says, pointing to it.

She gives me a look that tells me she’s not going to let this go until I open it in front of her. I sigh, set the vase down, shift my bag of oranges from my wrist, and unpin the tiny envelope from the bouquet.

Roses for Rose.

Beautiful, but still no comparison.

I stare at the words, my heart giving an unexpected flutter. Who the hell sent these? The words are too sweet to have come from my creepy boss.

I glance around the reception area, half expecting someone to be watching me. But everyone is busy with their own work, and there’s no name on the card. Nothing but those two lines.

I read them again, and despite myself, a smile tugs at my lips. It’s ridiculously cheesy, but there’s something about those words that warms me from the inside out.

Nelly pushes up onto her toes and leans over the desk. Thankfully, I manage to restrain my eye roll as I turn the card in her direction.

“Oh, how sweet. Surely you must have a clue who they’re from.”

“Nope, no clue,” I admit, picking up the bag of oranges, then the flowers, and hugging them to my chest as I round her desk and make my way past the partitioned office area towards the hallway that leads to mine.

Once I place the flowers and oranges down, I take a seat and pull out the card again, turning it over in my hand. The only thing on the back is a stamp with the florist’s name.

The envelope is addressed to me, but also includes my last name. My boss knows my last name; Not-Brendan doesn’t. I’ve tried not to think about him since I told him to lose my number, but admittedly he occasionally sneaks into my consciousness.

Which is annoying as hell, because he was perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect, if he wasn’t such a lying cad.