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The guy smirks as he pushes off the wall and saunters towards us. “Just curious to meet our newest employee.”

“Hmm.” She eyes him sceptically. “Callum, this is Rose. She’s going to be Bronson’s new PA.”

“Rose,” he repeats, his eyes travelling down the length of my body before locking back onto my face. “Rose … like the flower?”

“Yes,” I answer with a smile. People usually look at me strangely when I add like the flower.

“What a weird thing to ask,” Violet scoffs. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like actually working instead of creeping around the corridors?”

“Nope,” he sings, rocking back on his heels, and I can tell straight away this one’s trouble.

“Shoo,” Violet says, playfully flicking her hand in his direction.

He responds with a cheeky wink and a devastating smile. And when a faint blush creeps up her neck, I’m suddenly wondering if there’s more going on between these two than meets the eye.

Violet turns her back on him and gestures for me to follow. Callum doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He simply heads off in the opposite direction, whistling as he goes.

“Who was that?” I ask.

“A pain in my arse,” she mumbles. “Callum Rhodes, Kingsley Holdings second-in-command, and my brother’s best friend. He lived across the road from us when we were kids. When we first started the company, it was only the three of us. Bronson, Callum and me. We now have more than two hundred employees.”

“Impressive. I researched the company before coming here. I really like what Kingsley Holdings stands for.”

Violet’s expression softens. “This company, and my brother’s mission behind it, are very personal to all of us. It’s something he’s been passionate about for most of his life.” She pauses, her gaze drifting for a moment before returning to me. “Without getting into too much detail, when Bronson and I were kids, my father’s business was struggling. A man came along claiming he could save it, and that he had the answers to all our problems. My Dad trusted him, but he shouldn’t have. He was supposed to help save the company, not steal it right out from underneath him.”

“Oh, my goodness,” I say, placing my flattened palm against my chest. “Was he ever able to get it back?”

“No.” Violet pauses, her expression clouding. “He was killed in a car accident a month later.”

“Oh, Violet …”

“It’s the reason my brother dedicated his entire adult life to creating this company. He never wants another family to go through what we did. He wants to give people the chance we didn’t have.” A small smile touches her lips. “I admire him so much for that.”

I haven’t even met my boss yet, but I already like him, and I know deep down in my bones I’m going to be happy working here.

It’s customary to give your employer one to two weeks’ notice when you intend to leave, and Violet was perfectly happy for me to do so. But considering the shit I’ve put up with from Sir Hands-a-Lot since I started working there, she was sympathetic when I told her I’d rather not.

After giving me a tour of the office and introducing me to some of the other employees, she walked me through their system and allowed me to take notes. It’s similar to the one I’ve been using at Whitmore Industries, so it didn’t take me long to get the hang of things.

An hour later, she walked me to the elevator, shook my hand, welcomed me to the company, and told me she’d see me in the morning.

The only person I didn’t get to meet—the man I was actually looking forward to meeting the most—was the newly orange-obsessed Bronson Kingsley. Apparently, he’d been out of the office in meetings all day.

I emailed Mr Edmanson when I got home because I’m a coward and couldn’t face talking to him ever again. That part of my life is officially behind me. I won’t be returning.

I’d contemplated telling him I’d caught scurvy, but that seemed a little implausible given he’s often seen me working through lunch while eating a salad at my desk. So instead, I told him my father’s health had deteriorated, and I was moving back to Melbourne.

Like the fucktard he’s proven himself to be on many occasions, he simply replied that he wasn’t accepting my resignation and that he’d see me in the morning.

Of course, I wasn’t standing for that.

His next email was basically a threat disguised as a warning. He told me that if I didn’t turn up, he’d make damn sure every company in the industry knew exactly what kind of employee I was. According to him, I’d be lucky to ever get another job in this city.

I stared at the message, my blood boiling. Little did he know I already had another job waiting for me, and it was better than the one I’d walked away from.

My reply was short and sweet.

“Goodbye. Good riddance. You should be grateful I didn’t tell your wife exactly what kind of man she married.”