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Because she hadn’t done anything.
Nothing remotely weird had happened.
She had just gone to his house, that was all.
People must go to his house all the time, she thought, but even as she was doing so she was remembering that article in theDaily Mailabout him. The one that insinuated things about him never having anybody over. Or how about the piece in some magazine about him never touching anybody.
Yet he’d touched her.
And so of course there was now a blurry picture of her doing so going around social media. And okay, yes, the social media accounts were minor. Plus, they weren’t picking up a lot of traction. But still, that was her in her dungarees with her hair all sorted and her expression incredulous over what was happening, walking out to Alfie Harding’s car. Followed by their hands touching, like something out ofPride andfrickingPrejudice.
None of which felt normal, or good, or like something she could laugh off.
Especially when Henry Samuel Beckett was currently rattling on in her ear about how if any potential relationship should develop between them, she need not worry about conflicts of interest or Alfie exploiting her. “After all, he isn’t your boss. We are. And I will personally see to it that you are fully protected from any legal issues, or hinky power dynamics, or anything of the kind. All you need to do is say the word and Iwill make it my personal business to see you are safe and secure in all matters.”
Even though nothing of the sort had even entered her head.
First, because she couldn’t imagine Alfieeverbeing that kind of dude.
And second, because it wasn’t actually happening. It would never happen. It was not a thing. So now she had to somehow reassure this near stranger that something nonexistent that wasn’t even possible hadn’t caused her any kind of emotional or legal damage.
Which went about as well as she suspected it would. In the end she panicked and told him she had to go and feed a cat she didn’t have, just so she could calm herself down. So she could strip off the jumper she was sweating through, and fan herself with a file markedANECDOTES FROM COLLEAGUES, and have a long drink of something she wished was whisky but was actually just pink lemonade.
She felt better after she’d done all this, however.
Even though she was a maniac dripping lemonade while standing in the kitchen in just her bra and sweatpants, she felt more sane. After all, when she thought about it objectively, it was clear that things were not that bad. It was just a small bit of attention. Nobody was really talking about it.
And it didn’t seem like anyone even knew who she was.
She was safe. She was fine.
Until about five minutes from now.
When Alfie Harding was going to be picking her up in his car again.
Oh god oh god oh god, her brain panted as she tried to call him. Just to tell him to maybe wait around the corner, so she could go to him. Sneakily, possibly while wearing a disguise.
Only he wasn’t answering, and he didn’t have voicemail for some inexplicable reason, and texting was almost certainly even more futile than either of those two options. If she tried, he’d probably respond by setting his phone on fire.
So now it was purely a matter of getting to him first.
Even though she was half dressed and sweaty as fuck.
With pink lemonade all down her front.
And he was already having his driver hammer on the fucking horn.
Because god, that was definitely what that constant wailing sound was. She’d somehow panicked herself into being ten minutes late, and now there was a constant siren drawing attention to itself right outside her flipping door. Probably her entire street was now looking out their windows with their phones at the ready. That Instagram influencer who was trying to make this whole thing go viral was going to have a blooming field day.
And that was before she heard the other thing going on. The less loud, but indisputably more terrible thing. The thing she couldn’t believe was actually happening until she went to her window, and there it was: Alfie Harding, yelling up at her flat.
While standing.
In his car.
With half his body only out the fucking sunroof.
That was his entire face and shoulders and upper body she could see.
