My voice is thick. “She's old enough to look after herself.”
“She's younger than you.” She sounds accusatory. “And don't think I didn't see you, draped all over your boss. You're not exactly smelling of bloody roses.”
I blush enough to make her smirk. She's got me and she knows it. I can swear to the bible that Callum is only a boss, but my physiology's betraying me. “Nothing happened. You're being a bitch.”
She leans close, enough for me to feel her hot breath. “You've no fucking idea what a bitch I can be. I don't like you, Amy Cartwright, and I'd be happy to see your arse walking out the door.” Her expression is anything but pleasant. “So watch yourself, because I'll make sure I am.”
By the time Miranda and Charlie walk back in, their eyes downcast, I'm feeling awkward and worried. Then the HR manager sweeps in, her face stormy, her voice harsh, and she reminds us all why we should re-read the code of conduct, with the black veil of dismissal hanging over us all.
* * *
“Hey.” Callum looks up when I walk back into the office. His expression is light and open. There's a part of me that feels pulled to it, that aches to be as at ease as him. He looks amazing as usual. Comfortable in his skin and in his expertly tailored suit, his hair hanging over his brow, his eyes bright.
I feel like a blurred photograph hanging next to a Warhol.
“Hi.” My voice is as flat as I feel. I walked back to the office with Charlie, who revealed he's had a final warning about his conduct. One more wrong step and he's out. The thought frightens me. He's the only person I look forward to talking with when I walk in the building—well him and Callum—but he's the only one I should be talking to.
“You okay?” Callum asks.
“We just got a telling off from HR. Apparently we aren't allowed to have fun.”
He tries not to smile and I hate the way he looks appealing and sexy. Frustrating bastard.
“What happened?”
I sigh loudly and sink into my chair. Callum stands up and walks around his desk, out of his office and into my space. His proximity warms me, in spite of myself. I hate and love the way he makes me feel.
“According to them we embarrassed the whole company on Friday. We’ve been reminded that we shouldn't be drinking alcohol, enjoying ourselves or even speaking. We should be seen but not heard.” I may be exaggerating but the sting of their reprimand still lingers. Callum stares at me, perplexed.
“What?”
“We're all banned from China's.” It's true. I don't think I've been banned from anywhere before. It's humiliating. “Until further notice.”
Callum's stuck somewhere between amusement and annoyance. I watch as the two emotions battle for supremacy, his expression morphing until he finally settles on bemusement. “Seriously?”
“Yes. They seem to think we're all toddlers. I can't believe they've banned us.” My cheeks flame as brightly as a tomato.
Callum sits on the corne
r of my desk, picking up a sheaf of papers and idly leafing through them. “Ignore it, they'll forget about it before you do. I remember when I was at Oxford...”
I snap. “You tore up somebody's teddy bear?”
He tips his head to the side. “You really think I'm an elitist arsehole, don't you?”
I nervously rake my hands through my hair. “No. Well, maybe… no.” I prevaricate long enough to make us both confused. “I'm sorry, it's just that you wouldn't understand.”
“Try me.” His voice is a whisper.
The frustration crescendos inside me. “You’ve had it easy all of your life, I had to fight my way here, and the fact it could be stolen from me...” I squeeze my eyes shut. “It frightens me.”
“You think I've had it easy?” he questions, his tone strained. “What makes you think you know anything about me?”
My eyes snap open. I stare at him, taking in the way he exudes wealth. “What? Did the silver spoon bend a little in your mouth? Did you get a paper cut on the wad of money your parents gave you?” I sound bitter because I am. I've grown up knowing there are people who are much better off than me, but to have him talking it down in front of me is wrong.
His Scottish burr becomes prominent when he's angry. “You know nothing. You think you're the only one that's suffered? You think money prevents people from feeling pain? Maybe you should walk a few miles in my shoes.”
“What?” I scoff. “Did your nanny spit in your porridge? Did the boys at boarding school shove your head down the toilet?”