the police myself.” Just the thought that he might be about to ask me the name of my fake landlord is making me break out in a sweat. I would die of shame if I had to admit to Jonathan Huntington that I didn’t know much about one of England’s most-famous folk tales. It’s embarrassing enough already.
“You should take advantage of our services. I insist,” he repeats. “And I’ve already found a solution to the problem of your apartment. You can stay at an apartment belonging to the company, very close to here, for the remainder of your internship. My chauffeur, Steven—whom you have already met—will take you there and show you round.”
I feel rather offended. I stare at him, trying to work out what I think of his offer. He’s found an apartment for me. That’s nice of him. Wow. Very nice, actually. But he could have asked me what I wanted. Or needed. It makes me mad, somehow, that he’s deciding everything again. Because people basically always do what he tells them. Well, they probably do, I remind myself. That’s why he’s so successful. However, he might have been able to persuade me to take him up on his offer last time, but this time I’m determined.
I smile at him. “That’s very nice of you, Mr. Huntington but I’ve already sorted out the problem myself. Miss French has a spare room in her apartment and this morning she told me that I could move in for the duration of the internship.”
He frowns. “A room in a shared apartment is hardly comparable to the apartment in question. It’s a penthouse suite which is usually available for our business partners when they’re in town.” He obviously has no doubt which I’m going to choose. But however good-looking he may be, and however interesting I might find him, he can’t make me do anything. And I wouldn’t give up my room in Islington for the world.
“Maybe it is. And I’m very grateful for the offer,” I tell him. “But I feel very comfortable at Miss French’s apartment and I’d prefer to stay there.”
“Ah.” He can’t hide his surprise—and annoyance. “Well, it’s your decision.” His tone of voice makes it pretty clear what he thinks of this personally and, for a moment, I have a guilty conscience. By now, he probably thinks I’m extremely stubborn, because continuously protest allowing him help me out. But I really don’t want to sit in some penthouse apartment on my own, when I could be having fun with Annie and her friends.
He frowns, clearly still annoyed by my answer and I avoid his critical eyes by looking down at his chest. His rather broad chest. He’s not wearing a tie today, either, and his close-fitting shirt is slightly open at the neck. I am mesmerized by the glimpse of tanned skin it reveals and my mouth suddenly goes dry. I hurriedly lift my gaze again and meet his eyes.
“Is that everything?” I ask, sliding back and forth uneasily in my chair. That must be everything. What else could he want from me?
“No, that’s not everything,” he tells me decisively and I immediately sit stock still again, waiting.
I have no idea what’s coming but this visit is agonizing. Why can’t he take pity on me and finally let me go? I mean, nothing’s changed. He’s the boss and I’m a nobody, just someone who’s getting a bit of experience at his company. Perhaps I managed to attract his attention—thanks to an embarrassing coincidence—but it won’t stay that way for long. The gulf between us is simply too wide. This will be over soon and, if I’m really lucky, I won’t make too much of a fool of myself in the process.
He leans back again in that extremely relaxed way of his, which exudes so much self-assurance. His hair is falling onto his forehead and he carelessly smoothes it back with a hand. It’s not a vain gesture. It’s something he doesn’t even seem aware of, which makes him seem very laid back. Once again, I find myself musing about how much I like his hair that length. It
“You should take advantage of our services. I insist,” he repeats. “And I’ve already found a solution to the problem of your apartment. You can stay at an apartment belonging to the company, very close to here, for the remainder of your internship. My chauffeur, Steven—whom you have already met—will take you there and show you round.”
I feel rather offended. I stare at him, trying to work out what I think of his offer. He’s found an apartment for me. That’s nice of him. Wow. Very nice, actually. But he could have asked me what I wanted. Or needed. It makes me mad, somehow, that he’s deciding everything again. Because people basically always do what he tells them. Well, they probably do, I remind myself. That’s why he’s so successful. However, he might have been able to persuade me to take him up on his offer last time, but this time I’m determined.
I smile at him. “That’s very nice of you, Mr. Huntington but I’ve already sorted out the problem myself. Miss French has a spare room in her apartment and this morning she told me that I could move in for the duration of the internship.”
He frowns. “A room in a shared apartment is hardly comparable to the apartment in question. It’s a penthouse suite which is usually available for our business partners when they’re in town.” He obviously has no doubt which I’m going to choose. But however good-looking he may be, and however interesting I might find him, he can’t make me do anything. And I wouldn’t give up my room in Islington for the world.
“Maybe it is. And I’m very grateful for the offer,” I tell him. “But I feel very comfortable at Miss French’s apartment and I’d prefer to stay there.”
“Ah.” He can’t hide his surprise—and annoyance. “Well, it’s your decision.” His tone of voice makes it pretty clear what he thinks of this personally and, for a moment, I have a guilty conscience. By now, he probably thinks I’m extremely stubborn, because continuously protest allowing him help me out. But I really don’t want to sit in some penthouse apartment on my own, when I could be having fun with Annie and her friends.
He frowns, clearly still annoyed by my answer and I avoid his critical eyes by looking down at his chest. His rather broad chest. He’s not wearing a tie today, either, and his close-fitting shirt is slightly open at the neck. I am mesmerized by the glimpse of tanned skin it reveals and my mouth suddenly goes dry. I hurriedly lift my gaze again and meet his eyes.
“Is that everything?” I ask, sliding back and forth uneasily in my chair. That must be everything. What else could he want from me?
“No, that’s not everything,” he tells me decisively and I immediately sit stock still again, waiting.
I have no idea what’s coming but this visit is agonizing. Why can’t he take pity on me and finally let me go? I mean, nothing’s changed. He’s the boss and I’m a nobody, just someone who’s getting a bit of experience at his company. Perhaps I managed to attract his attention—thanks to an embarrassing coincidence—but it won’t stay that way for long. The gulf between us is simply too wide. This will be over soon and, if I’m really lucky, I won’t make too much of a fool of myself in the process.
He leans back again in that extremely relaxed way of his, which exudes so much self-assurance. His hair is falling onto his forehead and he carelessly smoothes it back with a hand. It’s not a vain gesture. It’s something he doesn’t even seem aware of, which makes him seem very laid back. Once again, I find myself musing about how much I like his hair that length. It
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