“Did my wife amuse you, Emma?”
I am trying not to laugh, but the light must dance in my eyes because I just nod. “A little.”
Luckily, the waiter comes with our salad and I look at it in astonishment. If I was expecting a plate of limp lettuce, I was sorely mistaken. It’s as if they have raided the gardener’s world allotment and provided a representation of every variety of salad item going. My stomach growls as I stare in admiration at the food, and Julian laughs.
“You like it?”
Nodding, I pick up my fork with an eagerness that kicks any manners I have into touch. “It looks – amazing.”
He looks pleased and nods.
“You may eat.”
I look at him in surprise and he grins. “You will soon learn that I like to call the shots, Emma. Word of advice – let me.”
Shrugging, I start forking the food into my mouth quicker than normal because every mouthful tastes so good. I have to remind myself not to groan out loud because I’ve never eaten a salad as tasty as this one.
I can feel his eyes on me as I power through the plate and after a while says a little tersely, “My wife’s a bitch.”
I think I stop chewing and just pretend I never heard him. Then he sighs and pushes his plate of food away.
“What do you see when you look at me, Emma?”
I look at him in surprise, unsure what to say. On the one hand, I see someone who interests me way too much given how rude he is and on the other, I see a man who has it all. Deciding to stick with the safer option, I say carefully, “I think you have it all.”
Sighing, he pushes his plate away and stares moodily out of the window.
“That’s what they all see but they couldn’t be further from the truth.”
I’m not sure if he realises that I’m still sitting here because he has an expression on his face that shows he is far away somewhere in his mind that only tortured souls go. There is a lost look about him and it’s as if he’s let his guard down and it’s an amazing sight to see. I watch him with shock mixed with pity because this man is different to the one I came here with. He is almost human and my first instinct is to wrap him up and tell him everything will be ok. I’m not sure why I feel the need to, but it’s the sheer helplessness of his expression that calls out to me and makes me want to step up and make it all better.
Then he appears to snap out of it and looks at me with a razor-sharp stare.
“Are you happy, Emma?”
His question takes me by surprise and I go with my first instinct, “Of course.”
Leaning forward, he stares deep into my eyes and whispers, “Liar.”
I feel the heat spreading through me and it’s not just because he obviously sees deep inside my soul. It’s because he is looking at me with that look, the one that says he is more interested in me than any employer has any right to be. The look of a man interested in a woman for his own pleasure and the one that says he knows he can just click his fingers and I’ll come running in every way.
Struggling to get a grip, I fix him with a blank stare, even though inside my hormones are raging out of control. “No, I’m not.”
He smirks and I see the excitement spark in his eyes as he whispers huskily, “You can’t hide from me, Emma. I see the way you look at me. You are like an open book to me. You try to hide it but from the moment you walked into my office uninvited, I saw the interest in your eyes and I watched with amusement the lengths you went to get ahead.”
My mouth is dry and my heart thumps as the man before me analyses me so correctly. He carries on. “I had every reason not to give you this job, Emma. You are unqualified, inexperienced and completely the wrong person for the job. You don’t fit in and ordinarily would never have got past the first draft of applicants.”
An uneasy feeling creeps over me as I sense the final blow about to be delivered and feel anxious, afraid and as if my entire world could crumble at any second as I stand on the precipice waiting for him to push me over the side.
He leans forward and I feel his breath touch my face, caressing it like the coolest, calming breeze. He says in a slightly husky voice, “I saw a lot of me in you and who couldn’t be impressed by that.”
He smirks and I feel my hand itching to wipe it off his face because he is so sure he has the measure of me. As I think about it, it annoys me to realise he has. He has seen through my charade and found me lacking. Men like that can smell fear, and he knows I’m now in a world I have no business occupying. He knows I’m one of them, the invisible workers who pass by him every day; never seen, heard, or acknowledged in any way. Women like me don’t sit in fancy restaurants mixing with the ones that have it all. We serve them, so I look down with shame and feel the tears build as I realise I’ve made a huge mistake.
His tone softens as he says, “Look at me.”
I hold my breath as I raise my eyes to his and he stares at me with a keen, searching look and says firmly, “Never show weakness and always look a person in the eye, even if you have no right to. Always believe you matter and have the upper hand whether you are right or not. Never let anyone see your weakness and face them with a challenge because if you show an ounce of fear, they will go in for the kill. It no longer matters who you were before you entered my world, it’s the person you are now that counts. I don’t like weakness in my staff and I employed the strong woman in you, not the quivering wreck you are showing me now. Can you be that strong assistant I need, Emma?”
I gasp and know that in this moment I would just about agree to anything he asks me and nod vigorously, “Of course, I can be what you need.”
I’m not sure why I even added that last sentence but we both know I mean every word because he leans back in his chair with a wicked glint in his eye and a smug expression on his face as he realises he’s got me cornered.
He says sharply, “Then I want you to find out everything possible about my wife and give me something I can use to bring her to her knees. Don’t let me down, Emma, because I won’t accept failure on this.”
“But…” I can’t even form words and as the waiter arrives to take our empty salad plates, I just stare at my boss with a stunned expression. As soon as the waiter leaves, I whisper fearfully, “But how? I’m not a private detective, you know.”
His eyes flash and his lip curls as he hisses, “You’re a devious woman which means you are the best person for the job. I want you to do what you do best and give me something I can use against her. That woman is breaking me and I am not prepared to let that happen. Now, you will quickly learn that I hired you for the qualities I saw in you that didn’t include your administrative skills and my wife has just given us the perfect opportunity.”
He breaks off as the waiter arrives with the main course and my appetite deserts me and it’s not because of the quite frankly mouth-watering plate of boeuf bourguignon that has been set before me. No, it’s the knowledge I have to see this through to pay him back for the opportunity.
He starts to eat and as I stare at my plate, he says tersely, “Eat up, we don’t have long.”
As I chew the delicious mouthful of food, it turns to dust in my mouth. I feel cornered and slightly used and now know why I was invited here. To meet the woman he wants me to destroy – for him.