Breaking the Boss's Rules

‘Stop!’ Imogen spun on the chair to face him, her chest rising and falling as she jabbed a mascara wand in the air. ‘Just stop—OK?’

‘Why? I’m just telling you what you’re missing.’

‘I get it. OK? I get what I’m missing and I’m good with it.’

Only she wasn’t. Not by a long shot. He could see the sparkle of tears in her eyes even as she blinked fiercely. Sense her anger and frustration as she clenched her hands round the edge of her seat and inhaled deeply.

‘Imo, sweetheart. You’re not good with it.’

He stood, strode over the canvas floor and dropped to his haunches in front of her, covering her hands with his.

‘Tell me. C’mon. I’m sorry I went on at you but I’ve seen your talent. That proposal—you made the sketches come alive. I could see the glitter of the mirror, feel the softness of the sheets, smell the freshly baked baguettes.’

‘They were just a few pencil and charcoal sketches.’

‘They were a lot more than that.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t get it, Imogen. Why don’t you take the project further? I’ve seen how absorbed you’ve been, how much it matters to you.’

He had seen her frustration if it hadn’t been perfect—the way she’d thrown crumpled bits of paper at the bin—seen the ink streaks on her forehead, the forgotten cups of tea and coffee, the food he’d forced her to eat.

‘And that’s exactly the problem!’ she said.

‘Meaning?’

For a moment she hesitated, and then a small reluctant smile tugged at her lips. ‘I’m guessing you won’t let up until I explain?’

‘Nope.’

She leant back against the dresser and inhaled an audible breath. ‘I told you my parents’ marriage is less than stellar?’

Joe nodded.

‘I didn’t explain why. The main reason is my dad. He’s an artist, and he’s dedicated his life to his art even though he’s barely sold anything. It’s an obsession with him—more important than my mum, more important than me. Mum did everything. Worked at any job she could get to pay the bills and put food on the table. She wanted to study, to go to uni, but somehow it never happened. It couldn’t because Dad wouldn’t go and get a job, it was always, “When I get recognised, then it will all change.”‘

Her shoulders hitched in a shrug.

‘Mum couldn’t even leave me with him when she was at work, because he got so absorbed in his work he forgot me. It consumed him. I don’t want that in my life.’

His throat tightened as he saw the pain in her eyes. So much made sense now: her desire for a job that didn’t challenge her, her need for a partner who pulled his weight.

‘Just because your father lost perspective it doesn’t mean you would.’

‘Not a risk I’m willing to take. And even if I were I couldn’t do that to Mum. She had such high hopes for me. She wanted me to be a lawyer or an accountant. Make something of my life … do all the stuff she missed out on. When it turned out I couldn’t achieve that she was devastated … I can’t disappoint her even more.’

‘But surely what your mum wants most for you is for you to be happy? You should talk to her about this. You can’t live your life for your parents.’

Imogen shook her head. ‘I’m not. Sure, Mum steered me away from art at every turn—but I don’t blame her for that. I don’t want to be bitten by the bug. Mum does want me to be happy and so do I. I know what I want from my life—I want to be secure, settled and comfortable. I want a nice husband and two point four kids. Maybe a Labrador and a white picket fence. The happy bonus is that I won’t make my mother miserable, watching her daughter follow the same road as her husband.’

‘The less than happy price is that you miss out on something you love.’

‘Then it’s a price I’m willing to pay.’

‘Even to the point of not taking up art as a hobby?’

‘I can’t.’ A small shake of her head as she looked at him almost beseechingly. ‘I’ve realised that these past weeks. I did love doing Richard’s proposal, I did enjoy working on projects for Peter, but you saw what happened. I became obsessed.’

‘That was one proposal—with a deadline. And you don’t have a family yet.’

‘Doesn’t matter. I have to draw a line under it now.’ As if suddenly realising his hands still covered hers, she pulled them away. ‘Do you understand?’