Chapter 3 First Day Jitters

Two weeks later.

Since puddle-gate, and the interview with the lovely Violet Smith I got the job. I went home to celebrate with my boyfriend. I say boyfriend, but I hadn’t decided if he was what I wanted in a boyfriend. I’d noticed a bit of a temper when things didn’t go well for him, and although he apologised for losing his temper immediately I just hung back on taking things all the way. He was good fun and charming, but there was just something…Anyway truth will out, and he thought he could help himself to my body. 

Picture this: a dimly lit restaurant, where the air is thick with the scent of candle wax and garlic. The evening started off innocently enough, with my ex, Greg Moorcroft, trying his best to impress me with his newfound charm. But little did I know that behind that charming smile lurked a devious plan—a plan to take advantage of my vulnerability.

As we finished our dinner, Greg suggested we skip the drive home and head to his place for a "nightcap." Now, I'm no prude, but I firmly believe in taking things at my own pace, and ripping my dress from the neck down was not what I expected. The world around me seems obsessed with instant gratification and fleeting encounters, but call me old-fashioned—I long for romance, genuine connections, and meaningful experiences.

So, when Greg's true intentions revealed themselves like a hidden villain's plot twist, I snapped. With a fiery determination fueled by indignation, I grabbed the nearest glass—a glass of whiskey, no less (the irony is not lost on me)—and threw its contents right into his smug face. The shock on his face was worth every drop of that cursed beverage.

But I wasn't done. Oh no. As Greg struggled to regain his composure, attempting to wipe the whiskey from his eyes, I channelled my inner superhero. With lightning speed and precision, I unleashed a perfectly aimed knee straight into his precious manhood. The sound of his agonized yelp reverberated through the room as he crumpled to the floor like a wilted flower.

Feeling triumphant, I snatched my coat and bag, leaving him locked inside his own flat with the keys still dangling from the door. As I hurried down the hallway, my voice echoed with a mix of anger and satisfaction, "Don't mess with me, you jerk! I said no!"

Little did I know that this act of self-defence would inadvertently lead to a life-altering opportunity. Fate has a twisted sense of humour, you see. As luck would have it, Greg Moorcroft—the unfortunate recipient of my knee's wrath—worked near the hotel where I used to be the assistant to the owner. The last thing I wanted was a constant reminder of that tumultuous chapter in my life.

Yet, as the universe continued its grand cosmic joke, it seemed determined to toss a surprise in my path. And that surprise came in the form of a job offer—a fresh start. Today, as I step into my new workplace, it marks the beginning of a journey filled with uncertainty, but also the promise of something different.

I couldn't help but chuckle as I imagined Greg nursing his bruised ego, both figuratively and literally, as I embarked on this new adventure. Who would have thought that defending myself with a knee strike would be the catalyst for a change of scenery? Life truly is a wild ride, full of unexpected twists and turns.

As I take a deep breath, ready to face the challenges and possibilities that await me, I silently toast to the irony of it all. Here's to new beginnings, knee-kicking justice, and a pinch of humour to keep me sane in this crazy, unpredictable world.

Today I am starting my new job. The interview with Violet Smith was great, she was very understanding and said if she saw that guy again, she would give him a good telling-off. I did two days in the office with Violet, but never saw the boss he was in Japan apparently. He would be back now, and I was looking forward to meeting him. 

I went to my office, put my things away and put the coffee on. I straightened my skirt made sure my hair was tidy and knocked on the boss’s office door. 

"Come in,” he called.

With a deep breath, I pushed open the door and my eyes immediately darted to the large desk at the far end of the room. There he was, a dark head with those unruly curls that seemed oh-so-familiar. It couldn't be... but it was! It was him—the man who had soaked me and showed a complete lack of manners. Oh, hell, what else had I blurted out in my fit of temper?

As I stood there, my mouth fell open, and my face turned fifty shades of scarlet. It was the kind of moment when you wish you could just sink into the floor and disappear. But there was no escape. I had to face the consequences of my words and actions.

Darius sat up from his desk, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. I couldn't help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and amusement at the whole situation. "Miss Bamford," he said, his tone light and teasing, "Lovely to meet you—again." He emphasized the "again" just enough to let me know that he was aware of everything I had said. Oh boy, this was going to be an interesting working relationship, to say the least.

In that moment, I couldn't help but let out a nervous chuckle. It seemed like fate had conspired to throw us together, and now we had to navigate this unexpected twist in our professional lives. Perhaps, amidst the initial shock, there was a glimmer of curiosity about what lay ahead. After all, sometimes the most unusual beginnings lead to the most extraordinary journeys.

Taking a deep breath, I mustered up a smile and replied, "Likewise, Mr Graves. I guess we're off to quite a memorable start.”

“ Let's see if we can turn puddle-gate into something positive. Ready to give it another go?" he asked. 

I stood mesmerised by him for a moment because  I don’t think I realised how spectacularly god-like he was when I first met him, maybe I was too angry, too shocked. Seriously this guy could make even the most composed woman weak in the knees. 

Tall, dark, and handsome don't even begin to cover it. With his broad shoulders and hair falling in thick waves over his forehead, he's a walking temptation. And those piercing blue eyes? They could melt the frostiest of hearts. But dammit, I remind myself, I'm off men. That troll Greg put me off the whole species. I can't allow myself to be attracted to this delicious specimen of male perfection. Men are nothing but trouble, and I don't need any more chaos in my life.

“Miss Bamford?” he raised his perfectly shaped eyebrow at me.

“I’m sorry, yes of course.”

“Good, one more thing,” he said eyeing his battered gold watch on his wrist. "I'm glad you're here. But tomorrow, I'd appreciate it if you could grace us with your presence a little earlier. I usually arrive by six, sometimes even five," he says smoothly, his voice like warm honey dripping off his lips. "So, let's aim for you to be here by seven tomorrow, shall we?"

"Y-Yes, sir," I stammer, my voice shaking, my heart racing and my palms getting sweatier by the second. "I wasn’t aware I was late, I apologise." My face flushes crimson with embarrassment as I struggle to find my words. So, that’s how it’s going to be eh? Sweet and sarky  I was told to start at eight A.M., but it seems I misjudged the early bird tendencies of my enchanting boss. I can't let his attractiveness throw me off my game. I have a job to do.

Darius leans back in his chair, his gaze fixed on me with a curious expression. Oh God, is he undressing me with his eyes? Pull yourself together, Kate!

"Everything okay?" he asks, his voice oozing with charm.

Oh, for heaven's sake! What's wrong with me? I clear my throat, desperately trying to regain my composure. "Yes, of course, everything is fine."

But I can't ignore the tantalizing scent of his cologne—citrusy top notes with a dark, musky undertone. It's the kind of fragrance that would make even the most confident woman weak at the knees. This man should come with a warning sign: "Danger! Approach with caution!" I take a step back, creating some much-needed distance between us. Before I look away, I notice a slight smirk playing on his lips. Cocky bastard.

"Well, Miss Bamford, let's get down to business," he says, gesturing toward the stack of papers on his desk.

I nod, grateful for the distraction. As we delve into the documents, I quickly discover that Darius Graves is more than just a pretty face. He's intelligent, driven, and exceptionally skilled at his job. The man is a workaholic, but hey, at least he's good at it. We may not engage in much small talk, but we develop a smooth working dynamic. I silently thank my lucky stars that I'm quick on the uptake, relishing the fact that I haven't asked any bone-headed questions or made any major blunders. Phew!

At eleven o'clock, we decide to take a well-deserved break. I make a fresh pot of coffee in the office kitchen, and to my relief, Darius isn't one of those fancy coffee drinkers. No, he's a simple hot filter coffee kind of guy—no sugar, just a splash of milk. I can appreciate a man who appreciates the classics.

As I sit at my desk in the outer office, I take a few minutes to relax. I close my eyes and practice some breathing exercises to combat the stress. Just as I let my mind drift, I'm startled by the sound of Darius clearing his throat.

My eyes shoot open, and my face flushes yet again. Smooth, Kate. Real smooth.

Darius leans against the doorway, crossing his ankles with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I hope I haven't exhausted you already, Miss Bamford?"

I shake my head, trying my best to hide my embarrassment. "No, not at all. It's just the typical first-day jitters, you know?"

He cocks his head, his gaze lingering on me. "Are you saying I give you the jitters?"

"Certainly not," I reply, my voice dripping with unintentional primness. But hey, maybe being a little prim isn't such a bad thing in this situation.

We spend the next couple of hours going over my duties and getting to know each other a bit better. Darius proves to be as sharp-witted as he is attractive, and I can easily imagine him being irresistibly charming in a more social setting. I can't deny that I'm more than a little smitten. Well, maybe a lot smitten. But I remind myself that this is a workplace, and I can't afford to let my guard down. Men are like trouble magnets, and I don't need any more complications in my life.

Finally, it's time for lunch at twelve-thirty. As I clear the empty coffee cups from his desk, I ask, "Is there anything I can get you for lunch?"

"No, thank you. I have a meeting during lunchtime. Not sure how long it'll last, but if you could handle the emails and familiarize yourself with my schedule, that would be great. Take any messages and let them know I'll get back to them later," he instructs, stuffing some files into his bag. "Oh, and there's a fantastic sandwich shop about a hundred yards to the left of the building's entrance. Put your lunch on my tab, and I'll see you later—or tomorrow if this meeting turns into a never-ending saga."

"Okay, thank you. I'll see you later," I reply, grabbing my jacket and bag as I make my way to the elevator. Relief washes over me like a tidal wave. The morning has gone surprisingly well, considering the distractions of having a Greek god for a boss. But hey, I can handle it. I'm a capable woman, even in the face of temptation.