Chapter Four: Imogen

Ian had joked that the first days in a job are the easiest, but for me nothing had been harder than watching the man I’d grown to care for stride around the office without a glance in my direction. Even more frustrating than the lack of attention was the desire that coursed through me whenever I laid eyes on him. I still wanted him. I hated that my body refused to sync up with my head.

The challenging workload that Maya thrust on my desk kept me distracted for the most part, bringing me up to speed with the inner workings of the business and sparing me no time for dwelling. I appreciated that she didn’t feel the need to act as a babysitter. This job was an opportunity, and I had always intended to grab it by the horns and push myself to new heights. Maya enabled me to do just that.

“I’m not usually one to pay compliments,” she said to me on my third day, “but I’m seriously impressed with how you’re picking this up.”

She slid my drafted blog copy across the desk towards me, her edits in bright red pen leaping off the page.

“Looks like I’ve still got some way to go,” I replied, glancing down at the numerous notes she’d made.

“Imogen.” She cocked an eyebrow at me and her lips curled upwards. “You could write the perfect piece and I’d still find something to critique.”

“Right. Good to know…”

“What I mean is, writing is subjective. Look at my edits and see what you think. Maybe you don’t agree with some of them, and that’s fine. Trust your instincts. This is your piece. Not mine.”

“Except you’ve been here for three years. I’ve been here for three days.”

Maya ran her tongue over her lips in thought, her deep purple lipstick not shifting. When she spoke again, she made me an offer than sounded much more like a command than a question.

“How about you join the departmental meeting this afternoon? You can clearly rise to a challenge and that makes me want to push you.”

A departmental meeting, three days in? An intimidating thought, but too much of an opportunity to turn down. I was no coaster, nor naïve enough to expect everything to fall in my lap. Jason knew things about me that could jeopardise my position here, and I refused to be a sitting duck.

“Definitely. I’d love to,” I said. 

Maya shot me the smallest hint of a smile, pride flooding her features. Maybe I was her protégée, a little project to mould and develop. If I did well, it looked good on her. I didn’t care about that, though. I wanted to make her proud. I wanted to make me proud.

---

“Anything I shouldn’t say?” I asked Maya as I followed her down a corridor towards the boardroom.

“Just one thing.” She spun around to face me, and I came to an abrupt halt. A wave of her floral perfume collided with me, but I managed not to crash into her myself. “Don’t call him Jason.”

“Excuse me?”

“He prefers to go by Stafford.”

“His surname?”

Maya shrugged, her eyes flickering over my facial features as if looking for some sort of clue. For a moment, I felt as if she suspected I had something to hide. But that was ridiculous. Nobody knew about Jason and me, except Jason. Nobody knew how I’d lied my way into this role, except Jason.

And if Maya did know, I doubt she’d be inviting me to departmental meetings. She’d be sitting tight, waiting for my inevitable dismissal, so she could move onto a different, more deserving employee.

“Only those close to him can get away with calling him Jason. I wouldn’t want you to accidentally stick your foot in it.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“I assume Ian didn’t mention it?”

Had Ian mentioned it? My first day had been a blur, a torrent of information that I’d tried to absorb. Despite that, I’d have remembered something as significant as Jason’s name, particularly when I was already so sensitive to the fact it had apparently changed since our summer in Greece.

“Maybe he did and I forgot.”

If Maya could sense I was lying, she didn’t call me out. Instead, she continued down the corridor. I followed, trying to get my head around calling my old lover by a new name that had been unknown to me up until three days ago.

The atmosphere inside the boardroom felt relaxed as Maya and I took our seats. Ian sat towards the head of the table, talking football with a woman to his right, while the two men opposite me were engaged in deep conversation about a new Netflix series. Maya had grabbed the left hand of another colleague to inspect a beautiful diamond ring on her finger, immediately launching into questions about how the fiancé had proposed.

“You’ll have to get tips from Ian,” she said. “Honestly, the detail that goes into planning a wedding…”

“I haven’t even started thinking about the wedding,” the woman replied, her beaming smile almost infectious. “I’m just enjoying the engagement.”

“I bet.”

My stomach flipped when Jason strode into the room, his tall and commanding presence holding my eyes captive. I’d expected his appearance to silence everyone. It didn’t, though. The chatter merely died down, only stopping completely once he’d taken a seat at the head of the table and opened his notebook.

He surveyed the room, his gaze landing on me. For the first time in three days, we locked eyes. His stare still lacked recognition, but it brought back a memory of him demanding I look into his eyes as I came.

Clearing his throat, he gestured towards me. “For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her yet, we have a new starter among us. Imogen Saunders has joined the company within the Editorial department.”

Everyone smiled and offered me polite nods. Being singled out when I already felt severely underqualified to be in the room at all did not help my conscience, but I forced a smile in return.

The meeting started with each departmental head giving an update on the past week’s events within their team. Maya had suggested I attend so as to push me, but I found myself benefitting from the vast amount of knowledge shared around the table. I’d been thrown in the deep-end, and every piece of information I absorbed helped me to tread water.

“We’re not seeing much traction with the email marketing,” Ian said. “Unsubscribes are at an all-time high and today marks the third week without a click.”

“Any advice from Editorial?” Jason asked, his eyes falling on Maya.

“We’re refreshing the content each week,” she replied without a second’s hesitation. “New subject lines, experimenting with the copy. We know it’s been tough, and it’s a priority for us.”

Ian nodded. “Editorial has been working closely with us. We’ve scheduled meetings each week to discuss next steps.”

I sensed an opportunity, and the words tumbled from my mouth before I gave myself the chance to second-guess.

“If I may,” I said, trying not to become psyched out when all pairs of eyes landed on me. “Perhaps I’m misunderstanding or jumping to conclusions, but is the email going out to the same audience each week?”

If Ian was surprised at my contribution, he didn’t show it. He also didn’t speak to me in a patronising way, which I’m sure would have been a temptation given that the new girl was attempting to question methods employed by long-time staff members.

“We alternate each week,” he replied. “Split our database in half, essentially, so we’re not spamming.”

“I wonder if it would be beneficial to only target an audience relevant to the content being promoted each week?”

Ian interlinked his fingers on the table in front of him, cocking an eyebrow in interest and gesturing for me to continue.

“So, I imagine you have a record of all the purchases your customers have made. Let’s say that one email promotion is about re-designing your living room. Is there a way you can split your database so that you’re only sending that email to the customers who’ve recently purchased living room furniture, or recently sought your advice on decorating their living room?”

Silence enveloped the table. Jason’s eyes bore into my skull, but I refused to look at him. He’d only make me nervous. But when Ian pursed his lips together, I worried I’d said something stupid.

“I’m just wondering if that would prevent people unsubscribing,” I said, wanting to justify my suggestion before it was shot down. “If you’re only sending them relevant content, they’d be more likely to read the email or click through. For example, I’m part of a reading community. I ignore the emails about genres I’m not keen on, but I almost always click through when I see something that does match my interests.”

“I think your suggestion makes perfect sense,” Maya said. “We’d be foolish not to try it. Right, Ian?”

“You’re absolutely right,” Ian replied, leaning back in his chair and shooting an easy smile in my direction. “It’ll take some manual work on the database, but the potential benefits would far outweigh the labour.”

“Feel free to come again, Imogen,” another man chimed in, prompting a few laughs around the table.

“Sometimes a fresh perspective is all it takes,” Jason said. “Thank you for your contribution, Imogen. And, joking aside, you are welcome to pass on any further suggestions that you feel would be useful.”

Despite the polite and supportive message behind his words, the tone of delivery felt detached and formal. It was like a different man sat before me, not the same one who’d laughed with me, teased me, tortured me with pleasure and then confessed his deep feelings towards me.

Jason Walters was gone. Maybe he’d never truly existed. My fantasy of a future built on the foundations of an amazing summer also needed to disappear. It was over.

“Hey, Imogen,” Ian said at the end of the meeting when everyone stood to leave. “You got a moment?”

I hung back, not allowing my eyes to drift over Jason, who slowly packed away his laptop and notebook.

“That took some real courage,” Ian said to me. “Maya brought you here for exposure and you sure as hell exposed yourself.”

The words hung in the air between the three of us, yet the double meaning would only be noticed by two.

“I’m here to learn and grow,” I replied. “No point sitting back and coasting along, is there?”

Partway through telling me that he appreciated my attitude, Ian’s phone rang. He shot me an apologetic smile and then hurried from the room.

For the first time since the summer, Jason and I were alone together. Despite the many things I wanted to say, and the frustrations desperate for an outlet, I bit my tongue and gathered my notebook, pen and glass of water.

Just as I was heading for the door, however, he spoke.

“Maya seems to be working you hard already, then.”

I froze, my hand already stretched towards the door handle. A treacherous part of me loved the opportunity to have a conversation with him. The more rational side resented it. I couldn’t avoid it, though. Through some twisted coincidence, he was my boss now. All feelings aside, I needed to at least give the illusion of respecting him.

“I’d hate to think she wasn’t,” I replied, curling my fingers around the handle for support as I swung my gaze across to him.

The cool metal chilled my palm, and I tried to concentrate on that sensation rather than the ache that settled within my body at the sight of Jason in a crisp suit, his dark hair neatly combed and begging to be ruffled.

“And how are you getting on in general?” he asked.

“Fine.”

I hadn’t intended to be so short, but the majority of my energy was focused on resisting the temptation to stride forwards and pull his mouth down to mine. In my head, my fingers were already unbuttoning his silk waistcoat, peeling away the layers of his suit to reveal the toned muscles hidden beneath that white shirt.

“It was a shock to see you, Imogen.”

At last, the acknowledgement came. Yet it still took me by surprise, and my hand clenched the handle with added pressure. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t have this conversation with him in the office when I’d been trying so hard to let go of the memories from summer.

I needed to detach myself from the situation and see him purely as a stranger rather than a man who knew every inch of my body. I needed to ignore the emotions he stirred within me. Emotions based on a guy who apparently didn’t exist.

“We’re not doing this here,” I said.

“Then let’s do it later. I promised you a date, after all.”

Anger slammed into me, hitting me full force like a dam releasing a flood of imprisoned water. How dare he bring up his promise of a date? A promise that we both knew he hadn’t kept.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I let out a bitter laugh.

“I gave you my word. And I don’t break promises.”

I released the handle and took a step towards him, rage blurring the vision of his lying, handsome face.

As I edged closer, the familiar scent of his aftershave lingered in the air between us, almost tricking my brain into thinking we were back in his suite together, kissing on the bed. Or in the hotel’s bar, grinding to music and tipping back shots. Or opposite one another in a restaurant, flirting away the minutes until we could be alone again.

I stopped.

“You had three weeks to keep that promise. I only asked for one thing from you. Honesty. You couldn’t even do that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His brow wrinkled.

“You know exactly what I mean. And I was serious about not doing this here.”

I turned back towards the door, but his voice remained calm, sending chills through me that counteracted the warmth from his presence.

“Then meet me this weekend. Let’s get everything out in the open. Voice our frustrations so we can move on. We need to clear the air if we’re going to work together. I can’t let this come in the way of my business.”

I impressed myself by keeping calm. But I also made sure my tone remained ice-cold when I replied.

“Jason, I have absolutely no intention of getting in your way. I’d much prefer to stay out of it.”

Before he could respond, I yanked on the handle and left the room, adrenaline pumping through my body mixed with an infuriating amount of desire that I couldn’t shift, no matter how hard I tried. 

---

Thank you for reading 🙂 xx