He knew.Fuck.
“With respect, Richard,” I said, grateful my voice held steady, “how I spend my personal time is a private matter. Unless I’ve done something illegal or missed a deadline, I don’t see how it’s relevant.”
He laughed—a short, precise bark, nothing at all warm. “I see I’ll have to take the slow path.” He rocked forward, palms resting on the edge of the desk. “London may be vast,” he continued lightly, “but its circles are surprisingly small. Nothing remains private here. Not for long, anyway.”
I matched his gaze, refusing to look away.
He leaned a little closer. The light from the window caught in his silver hair, sharpening the lines of his face. “I’m not unsympathetic,” he said. “Truly. I understand curiosity. The urge to try new things.” A beat. “To hide behind a mask.”
A jolt of panic lanced through my rib cage.
“Let me make this crystal clear,” I said, and the tremor in my voice only made me angrier. “My private life is not up for discussion. Not here. Not ever. If there’s a problem with my performance or my results, say so. Otherwise, this conversation ends now.” I kept my eyes locked on his, pulse roaring in my ears. “Are we clear?”
For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of approval in Richard’s eyes. It vanished almost immediately. “Touchy,” he murmured, lips curling. “I’m only trying to help. You’re drifting into a rather precarious position, and I’d hate to see such obvious talent squandered.” He paused. “Consider me a safeguard.”
I searched his words for an exit. “What are you getting at?”
He slid closer to me and dropped his voice until it felt private, conspiratorial. “Let’s not pretend we don’t recognize something in one another, hm? We’re cut from the same cloth, you and I.” He held my gaze. “We’re ambitious people. Practical. We understand how the world actually works.”
The silence stretched. But not for long.
“What I propose is simple.” He closed his fingers lightly around my wrist. “In return for my…discretion”—he grazed his thumb along my pulse point—“you’ll…make yourself available to me.”
I jerked my hand free. “That’s blackmail.”
“Oh, come now, don’t be dramatic. It’s nothing so crude.” He caught my wrist again and brushed my fingertips to his lips. “And nothing you wouldn’t enjoy, my dear.”
I opened my mouth to tell him exactly where he could shove his “proposal,” but he moved first—stepping in, hands clamped to the armrests of my chair, caging me without quite touching.
“No theatrics, Alex. I’ll keep your dirty little secret safe from your superiors. Unless you force my hand, that is.”
My body froze.
“In fact, I’ll make certain they hear nothing but glowing reports from me. You’ll be a lock in for promotion. Assuming, of course”—he pulled back, and his gaze slithered over me, as if he were tallying up my price tag—“you keep yourself in my good graces.”
I worked a smile onto my lips and forced a brittle laugh. “That’s…generous. But I think I’ll pass.”
His brows lifted slightly. “Have a better offer?”
“If you must know, I’m seeing someone.”
He leaned back, eyes narrowing into cool slits. “Does he know what you get up to whilst you’re away in London?” The tone was mild. The contempt beneath it wasn’t.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” I snapped, “but he’s local.”
Richard’s smile returned. “You must be joking. You’ve been here, what, five days?”
I pressed my lips together and stared at the hem of my gray skirt, resting just above my knees.
He stood and moved back behind his desk, reclaiming his space. “And who is this mystery man? Not the brute from Saturday night, surely.”
I looked up sharply. “Are you following me now?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” He smiled faintly. “It was a coincidence. Though you were…memorable.”
Fuck.
“And I know the man you left with. Or rather, I know of him.” His tone cooled further. “He’s not one to get stuck in with. Different girl every night. Not the type of man you need.”