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In my head, ithadbeen my job. I’d been a superhero. I’d rescued insects from certain death in our small garden. I’d stopped a kidfrom getting beaten up once. Admittedly, I’d thrown a good few punches and taken a few hits in the process, but I’d been high on that little incident for weeks, despite getting detention and a right telling off from my mum.
The kid and I had been friends for years after that. I’d left him behind in France when I’d moved here, but we still sent Christmas texts and followed each other on social media.
I could recognise my behaviour here, with this Hugo bloke. He was definitely a stray, terrified of his own shadow and uncomfortable with my presence despite my generous gift of baked goods.
I stuck my fork in the cake, cut off a good chunk and shoved it in my mouth. See? Not scary at all. I’m just here eating.
I may have been quite tall and had a bit of bulk, but I was nowhere near as intimidating as I’d been in my teens. I still filled out an XXL hoodie, and my arms were always too long for fitted shirts, but I was a nice bloke, deep down. And as for intimidating my staff—let’s just say my bark was bigger than my bite.
Which I proved with another forkful of cake. I needed to get my patisserie chef to tweak it a bit. The vanilla was slightly off. The chocolate, a little too rich. I also had the urge to create a banoffee cheesecake, having googled that Midnight Dessert Café with their ludicrous cheesecake flavours and all-you-can-eat ice cream buffet.
Fuck that.
I secretly wanted to go, just to have a look and see how they were getting away with it.
I liked dessert.
This Hugo didn’t, though. That was clear.
“So you don’t like cheesecake,” I said, “but, you haven’t even tried this one.”
“I’m not hungry, but thank you.”
He pushed the plate further away. I wasn’t buying it. Not a word. His eyes were the size of saucers and he had to swallow all that saliva pooling in his mouth.
I’d been keeping an eye on him all afternoon, and he hadn’t left his desk. His hands were shaking, and there went his phone again, buzzing angrily as the name Lewis followed by a heart emoji screamed from the screen.
The way he startled, he almost left the seat, and then tried to reject the call and turn the phone upside down at the same time. The dude was flustered as anything, and I didn’t like it because I knew fear. I knew rejection. And I knew that Hugo here…
Ugh. Mark had been enough of a mess at times, but this? Brand-new disaster territory.
“Boyfriend trouble?” I asked softly, hoping I sounded approachable, not too pushy. Nobody liked intrusion, but there was something wrong, and talking sometimes helped.
And sometimes not.
“It’s nothing,” he deflected, grabbing the fork. “I’ll try a little.”
He didn’t want to and was only doing it to make me go away. Fuck. I hadn’t meant to do this to him, and…yeah. I wasn’t always the most sensitive human being in the world.
I’d been lying to myself. I was no superhero. I was an idiot.
He jabbed at the cheesecake, the tips of the fork screeching harshly against the plate. The sound made the hairs on the back of my neck stand right up.
“Stop,” I beseeched, but my voice was barely there, and his hand was still shaking.
“Now you don’t want me to try it? Is it poisoned or something?”
This Hugo was going to be the death of me.
“Listen.” I cleared my throat. Fuck. I was a senior manager here. I was supposed to know how to have these kinds of conversations—usually with a union representative present and paperwork in hand—but I didn’t always work that way, and looking at the incredibly prickly man in front of me? No. Just no.
“Hugo, I know I’m not your direct manager, but that doesn’t mean I can’t intervene when there’s something wrong. If you don’t feel comfortable talking to me, you have several managers who would be happy to sit down and listen to any concerns you might—”
“I have no concerns,” he interrupted sharply. “Have there been any complaints?”
Fuck.
“No, no. I didn’t mean it like that.”
