Chapter Two: Stafford

The lift doors pinged, offering a second’s notice that someone was about to walk into the office. Not that it mattered. Only one person had the balls to bypass the intercom system and let themselves in.

“I never should have given you the override code,” I said to Ian, not looking up from my laptop.

“You’re just saying that because the only time I use the code is when I know you wouldn’t let me in.”

“Exactly,” I said through gritted teeth, glancing up at him.

I wasn’t in the mood for visitors. I had a financial report to review and a recruitment fuck-up to wrap my head around. Both required intense concentration. Both required me to come up with a solution on how to move forwards.

“It’s hard to tell whether you’re pissed off or just being your usual stone-cold self, so I’m going to cut to the chase,” Ian said, settling down in the chair opposite.

Humouring the conversation was usually the best way to get Ian off my back, so I shut the laptop lid and sank back in my seat, folding my arms. Taking that as a signal to continue, Ian launched straight into it.

“Imogen’s the should-I-shouldn’t-I girl, isn’t she?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Pretty sure I’ve solved that predicament now.”

“Shit.” Ian released a long breath, leaning forwards and resting his hands on the desk. He trained his gaze on mine, as if expecting me to expand further.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Ian.”

It wasn’t a hint; it was a clear statement that left no room for misinterpretation. Yet Ian ploughed ahead regardless.

“Have you still not spoken to her since you got back from Greece?”

“I sent her a message this morning. She didn’t reply.”

“Is that why you’re so pissed off? Because she didn’t reply?”

I tried to keep my frustration at bay. It wasn’t Ian’s fault that I’d found myself in this position. He did a fantastic job of taking the main brunt of my emotions in the workplace, but this extended beyond business.

“Of course not. She told me she was starting a new job at a publishing company. Last time I checked, we deal with furniture, not books.”

“And I’m sure you were totally honest with her.”

“Are you here to lecture me, Ian? Because I have a shit ton of work to do.”

Ian sighed, his gaze softening. “No. I’m not. And I’m not here as a colleague either, Jason. I’m here as a friend. You need to talk to her. It’s not fair on either of you to pretend nothing’s happened, and you owe it to the company not to let this come in the way of business.”

Shaking my head to myself, I toyed with the edge of my laptop lid. My mind was in turmoil, unable to process that the girl I’d spent the summer with had just been introduced as our new starter. It felt like some weird dream. Like someone had decided to play a cruel trick on me as payback for ghosting her.

“Apart from that message this morning, I’ve not spoken to her since getting back from Greece,” I said. “She probably hates me for that. I wouldn’t blame her.”

“She’ll get over it. People hook up on holiday all the time, only to lose touch once they return to reality. It’s not like you owed her anything.”

“That’s the thing. I promised her a date. Like a real date, in London.”

Ian’s eyes widened. He leaned back in his chair, brow furrowing. The colleague in him would tell me it didn’t matter—business was business, and anything personal should be dealt with outside the office. The friend in him would call me a dick and say I fully deserved to experience the true extent of her anger.

“Now why would you promise her something like that if you never had any intention of following through?”

He somehow managed to avoid sounding too accusatory, instead seeming genuinely curious. I’d been battling the same thought for the past three weeks. What kind of bubble had I been living in over the summer? The Imogen Saunders Experience. That kind of bubble.

Her body had put me under a spell, and her tastes in the bedroom had kept me there. I had to ignore everything else that had influenced my decision to suggest we continue seeing each other in London. The late-night conversations. The early-morning breakfasts. The days we spent in each other’s company. The evenings we spent flirting.

It truly had been an Imogen Saunders bubble.

“I didn’t intend to lead her on,” I said, pushing the straying thoughts from my mind. “Situations change, don’t they?”

Ian shrugged and let it slide. “Regardless of all that, the two of you need to have some kind of conversation for closure, to make sure there are no ill feelings. Doesn’t have to be a date. Probably better that it isn’t, right?”

“I need time to wrap my head around it first.”

“I’m sure she does, too.”

“And maybe I need to take back some of the HR stuff.”

Ian cocked an amused eyebrow at me. “Concerned that other girls you’ve slept with will be hired here, too?”

My jaw clenched. “Handing over control of the HR responsibilities was supposed to lessen my workload and give me more time to focus on strategy. Having Imogen here is going to distract me from that and no doubt cause all kinds of issues that I’ll need to spend time managing.”

“And what would you have done if you had known she was due to start here?”

“I wouldn’t have gone near her in Greece.”

My pull towards her had been undeniably strong, but knowing she was a future employee would still have overpowered that. I don’t make the same mistake twice.

“Jason, we both know you’re a control freak, but leave the HR stuff with the dedicated HR department. Hindsight is a great thing, but you’ve got enough on your plate. Let’s just deal with this day by day.”

I sighed but didn’t argue. Ian had been my best recruit without doubt, and there was nothing I didn’t trust him with. I needed to apply that same level of trust to this.

“You’re right. Thanks, mate.”

Ian offered a small smile and then stood up from his chair, smoothing down his suit. Just as he began to head back towards the lift, I called after him.

“How did you know it was her?”

Ian turned. “Between her stunned reaction to meeting you and the fact she later referred to you as Jason despite only spending a few minutes up here… It didn’t take much detective work. Oh, and she’s called Imogen. That was a big clue.”

When Ian left the room, I opened my laptop lid again. It was an automatic reaction to being alone. I didn’t actually look at it. My mind was focused on Imogen, wondering how I could get myself out of this mess.

Maybe I wasn’t giving her enough credit and she’d actually be fine with working in the same office. After all, Maya would be her direct manager; we could have as little to do with each other as we wanted.

Not to mention Imogen’s confidence knew no limits. I’d seen the way she could command a room, have a person hanging off her every word, entranced by her every movement. She’d settle in instantly, and I’d just be some loser who wasted her time on holiday.

She was still a temptation, though—one that I hadn’t managed to keep away from in Greece, no matter how many times she’d fed my addiction to her. Now I’d have to see her every day, knowing I couldn’t touch her, suspecting that even talking to her would only add fuel to the intense attraction I felt.

After four weeks of seeing her in swimwear, summer dresses and minimal makeup, seeing her in business attire was surreal. A different version of the Imogen I’d spent time with in Greece. Yet equally enticing. It was as if someone had picked her up from Greece, given her a new appearance, and then placed her into my office as a test.

Amongst all the uncertainty of how this would play out, one thing was for sure: if this was a test, I didn’t rate my chances of passing.

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Thank you for reading 🙂 xx

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I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter from Stafford’s POV. The next chapter will take us back to their last day in Greece together.