At Her Boss's Bidding

‘You mean in exchange for services rendered?’ she threw at him.

‘No, of course not. Look, if you’re going to bring that up all the time, I’m not sure we can go on working together.’

Justin didn’t need to have studied body language to gauge her reaction to that charming little announcement. Her whole body stiffened, and her eyes…her eyes stabbed him right in the heart.

‘I see,’ she said frostily. ‘It’s nice to know where things stand. You’ll have my resignation on your desk before I leave at lunch time. And yes, I will have the whole afternoon off, thank you very much.’ Spinning on her heels, she stalked from the room, banging the door behind her.

Justin slumped back into his chair with a groan. He’d done it now. And he’d never felt lower in all his life. He dropped his head into his hands and called himself every name under the sun.

Rachel could not sit down at her desk and go calmly back to work. She paced the outer office for a couple of angry minutes, then marched into the tea room and poured herself a fresh coffee, more for something to do than because she wanted it. In fact, the steaming mug remained untouched on the counter whilst she just stood there, tapping her foot and trying to gather herself.

Isabel had been so right about office affairs. Not that she needed her best friend to tell her that. Hadn’t it always been the case in the workplace? The male boss got away with sleeping around and the female employee got the push.

She had an urge to go back in there and give Justin a piece of her mind. But pride wouldn’t let her. Pride and common sense. Given her lack of recent work experience, she needed a reference. Not that Justin would dare not give her a reference. She could make real trouble for him over this, if she had a mind to.

But Rachel had no stomach for such an action. No, she would simply resign and to hell with Justin McCarthy. In fact, to hell with him for the rest of the day. She was going to write out her resignation right now and leave. And then she was going to go out and spend every cent in her savings account on a brand-new wardrobe!

Leaving her coffee still untouched, Rachel stormed back to her desk and set to work on her resignation letter.

Justin was in front of one of his many computer screens, pretending to work, when his office door was flung open and Rachel marched in with flushed cheeks and her head held high.

‘There’s my resignation,’ she announced, and slapped a typed page down in front of him. ‘I’ll work out my notice and I’ll expect a glowing reference, though lord knows how I’m going to explain leaving my present position after so short a time. But I guess that’s my problem. Oh, and I’m taking the rest of the day off, starting right now!’

‘Rachel, don’t…’

‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t resign,’ he said wearily.

‘Too late,’ she snapped, and Justin winced. ‘And please don’t pretend this isn’t what you want. You’ve been working towards this moment ever since you woke up yesterday morning and found me in your bed.’

Justin could not deny it.

‘I’m beginning to wonder if the same thing happened with your previous girl. Or do you only screw the plain ones?’

‘Rachel, I didn’t mean t—’

‘Yes, you did,’ she broke in savagely. ‘You screwed me good and proper. But I’ll survive. I’m a survivor, Justin McCarthy. Watch me.’

He watched her walk with great dignity out of his office, and he’d never admired her more. But he didn’t call her back, because she was right. He had screwed her good and proper. And he wanted to do it some more.

Best she leave before he really hurt her.

Best he crawl back into his celibate cave, and best he go back to work!

Rachel felt tears begin to well up in the lift ride down to the lobby. Her anger was swiftly abating and in its place lay a misery far greater than she had anticipated. At the heart of her dismay lay the fact she’d really liked Justin. And she’d really liked working for him.

And you really liked having sex with him, came another quieter but more honest voice. That’s why you’re feeling so wretched. All your silly female attempts to look attractive for him this morning were a big waste of time. You vowed you’d never get that horrible sewing machine out again and what did you do last night? Hauled the damned thing out of the bottom of the wardrobe and worked till midnight practically remaking this wretched suit.

And what did he do? Hardly looked at it, or at you. He doesn’t want you any more. He never really did. How could you possibly have started imagining he might? You were just there, when he needed sex. He said as much yesterday. And now you’re a nasty reminder of behaviour he’d rather forget.