CHAPTER 14

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AMANDA

7.40 a.m.

I am a zombie. Post-holiday blues turn human beings into the Walking Dead, and I can feel the general air of gloom as I step through the glass doors.

Tristan had already left when I woke up. I read his text, smiling to myself.

I'll see you at work, Miss Barnes.

People pass me; some smile, others look at me indifferently, most ignore me.

I wonder what they'll do if they knew the truth: that I had spent the Christmas holidays with the boss, and an obscene amount of that time in bed with him. It makes me feel positively wicked.

Today, I am required to work back at Marketing; Doris calls me the moment I step into the office building. She sounds frazzled. Two trainees are still on leave, and she needs my help urgently. She has already spoken to Mr. Remington, she says, so could I please come directly to the Marketing Trainees' Room? Of course, I answer. I'm on my way there now.

Doris fumes. She must be very upset; her blotter and stapler no longer run at perfect, intersecting lines. She buttons, then unbuttons her suit jacket frantically. She tells me that I will be back at my old desk, until the trainees return, which should be in two days.

"Mr. Remington wasn't pleased when I told him about needing you back here. But I said you prepared the documentation for the Walters Project, and it would save so much time having you here. But, he wasn't happy." Her mouth is pinched. "I said I would send a trainee over to replace you. He just growled at me." She shakes her head.

Lynn chips in blithely, "Wonder why Mr. Remington is acting nastier than usual? Do you suppose it's the holiday blues? I always hear the holiday season can cause depression and loneliness."

Steven, who almost keeled over with joy when he saw me at my desk and is looking at me with soft puppy eyes, laughs. "If that guy is lonely, he has only himself to blame. I can totally picture him as one of those cannibalistic animals that eat their young."

Eat. I think of him eating me last night, and I bend my head low, so that my hair would hide the treacherous colour flooding my cheeks.

Doris looks at Steven meaningfully. He clears his throat, and says to me wistfully, "I'll talk to you later, Amanda." He walks to his desk, and Doris drops a tower of files on me, and tells me what she wants.

I bend over my computer, push all thoughts of him out of my mind, and get to work.

My phone pings.

I glance down.

My heart thuds.

It's a text from him, renamed under Bossy.

Are you at your desk?

Yes. Satisfied? I text back.

HIM: For now.

ME: You?

HIM: Getting some work done.

ME: So am I.

HIM: Such a hard little worker. Lucky boss.

ME: He's a bit of a hard one, too.

There's a silence. Oh, crap. What did I just text?

Little dots dance, then:

....

Yes.

He IS.

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