He hums, his fingers gripping his hair.
“Damian went from being my oldest friend and business partner to this person I didn’t recognise.” He talks to the floor, his voice tentative. “It was gradual, and I didn’t notice it until it was too late. Until he’d done those things that are entirely unforgivable.”
He turns his head, looking up at me, and I touch a hand to his cheek.
“You’re not him, though,” I say. “Maybe he always had that view of women. He just didn’t have the power or opportunity to act on it before.”
“You don’t know what’s going on in my head. Maybe this is how it starts. Fantasies, daydreaming.”
“About me?”
He sits up, resting his head on the back of the settee. What has he been fantasising about?
“Yes, about you. And I couldn’t stay away from you either.”
“Do you daydream about anyone else?”
His eyes snap to mine in an instant. “Never. Only you.”
He might not know it, but these words latch themselves onto my heart, like a little seed that quickly sprouts into hope.
Only me.
“I don’t understand your fear of being like Damian; you’re obviously not.”
“But that’s what I’d look like to others. To the board.”
“Because I’m an intern?”
He nods, his eyes on the ceiling now, his Adam’s apple working. I admire the smooth skin of his throat, the veins down his neck to his collarbones, and the sprinkle of hair visible at the top of his v-neck. I put a hand on his stubbled chin to turn him towards me.
“I won’t be an intern forever, Mark. And I’m almost thirty.”
He sits up. “What do you want to do after your internship?”
“I’d love to be a concept artist now that I’ve been introduced to this world, but honestly, anything that lets me create makes me content. I’d love to have a job that’d allow me tomove out of my brother’s house, though. Have flatmates again.”
“When did you move in with your brother?”
“In the new year, I left a job because the work environment was terrible and struggled to get another one, so I had to move in with Xander. But I started saving once I got the HR role with Nia, and it’s really brightened up my days. Infinio is so good, and I’m making friends in the office.”
He blows out a breath and presses his eyes shut.
“What’s wrong?”
“Sorry, I just realise how much we both stand to lose here. What will it look like for you if you get a good role at Infinio? People might think it’s because of me.”
“Because I’m sleeping with the boss?” I say, tongue-in-cheek, but I know it’s something to consider.
“Don’t call me that.”
“You don’t want to be my boss?” I ask, walking my fingers up his chest and across his collarbone. He chuckles.
“I do and I don’t. It makes me feel guilty sometimes.”
“Are you my boss in your fantasies?”
“No.”
