myself around the head with the cane currently pointed at me. Yes, perfectly immune.
‘I don’t think it’s safe to be alone with her,’ Becker mumbles under his breath. I accept that too. In fact, if he sacked me on the spot, I wouldn’t blame him. He looks to Brent. ‘We’re done. I’ll see you out.’
I turn and exit sharply, but I only make it a few metres down the corridor when my arm is gripped harshly. ‘Ouch,’ I hiss.
‘Wait in the library.’ Becker is speaking through a clenched jaw, trying to disguise the threat.
‘Mrs Potts didn’t even know I was gone,’ I whisper-hiss, allowing him to guide me away for fear of creating more of a scene in front of his grandad and Brent, who are trailing some way behind, chatting.
‘She would have, had I not got you back here before she arrived.’
‘That’s not the point.’
‘Shut up and get in there.’ He swipes a card, then roughly pushes me inside, and I turn to find Becker trying to close the door and Brent holding it so he can’t.
‘A moment of her time, if you don’t mind,’ Brent says confidently, going to pass Becker. I cringe as Becker blocks him.
‘She’s busy,’ he retorts sharply, yanking at the door again, but Brent isn’t giving in. His expression is determined, and so is his hold on the door.
‘I won’t take much of her time.’ Brent speaks coolly, but there’s no escaping the gritty edge to his tone. Not that I expect it to make an ounce of difference to Becker’s subtle refusal. I’ve just caught a glimpse of my boss’s profile. He looks indomitable. This could turn messy.
I’m still furious with Becker, but this I’m staying out of.
‘You won’t take any of her time,’ Becker says, the hollows of his jaw pulsing steady and slow. He’s trying to keep his cool. I don’t know how long he can do that. Especially since Brent Wilson seems to get a sick thrill out of pushing Becker’s buttons where I’m concerned.
Brent goes to retaliate but gets no further than drawing breath before Becker steps into the library.
‘Gramps, see Wilson out, please.’ He shuts the door in Brent’s face with brute force, locking us in.
I’m so pissed off, for reasons that are unwarranted and so fucking childish. Brent’s brashness, Becker’s behaviour, his lies. I need to take deep breaths. Quickly. ‘I might have wanted to speak with him.’ I simply cannot help myself.
Becker swings around, his face awash with disbelief. ‘You had him drop you off at a fake address. And anyway, private client and employee relations are against the rules. Check your contract.’
I’m about to ask about employee and employer private relations, but the final piece of his little speech has just registered. ‘What contract?’
‘Your employee contract.’
‘There’s nothing about private relations in my employee contract,’ I splutter. He knows damn well.
‘The other contract. The separate NDA.’
‘What NDA?’ I ask, running over the paperwork in my mind that I signed on my first day at The Haven. There definitely wasn’t a separate NDA, only a section dedicated to non-disclosure in my employee contract, and, like I said, there was no mention of client and employee relations.
‘It’s a document that might do you and me some favours, princess. An addition to your standard terms of employment.’
‘Good,’ I yell. ‘Make sure you include something regarding sexual harassment while you’re at it.’
Becker’s mouth drops open, stunned by my outburst. Then his face screws up in contempt. He doesn’t know what to say to that. ‘Wait here,’ he barks, turning and swinging the door open, slamming it, and leaving me alone in the library with nothing to do except as I’m told. That thought alone makes me want to bash the door down, but as I take a long, calming breath, I remind myself I’m at work. I’m on Becker’s time. This isn’t personal.
I hesitate a moment, fighting for clarity. But it is personal. This all started because it got bloody personal, and now the areas between work and my private life are becoming grey. When is it okay to retaliate, and when is it inappropriate? My head falls into my hands. I can’t cope. There have been grey areas since day one.
On a long exhale of a tired breath, I turn, coming face to face with the bookshelf nearest the door. The one with the secret compartment. Secret compartments, secret garages, secret doors. Suddenly, my despair is drowned out by an odd sense of excitement, and a wicked thrill steamrolls