Oh, and did I mention that King was being weird with me?

I couldn’t tell if it was because of our conversation driving home from the shoot, or something else. To be honest, I thought it might be a bit of both. He seemed preoccupied, and it couldn’t all have been because of me.

The clients hadn’t arrived yet, and King had just finished having a chat with Daniel James, who had dropped into the conference room for a minute, when I lightly touched my hand to his elbow. I know we’d made that no touching rule, but I felt compelled to do it anyway.

“You okay, boss?” I asked softly.

His posture showed that he was definitely wound tight, and all the air seemed to rush right out of him. “Alexis,” he said, and turned his body to face mine. His usually bright eyes seemed tired, and he looked like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. He spoke low, like he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “My mother had a bad episode last night. She…I had to take her to the hospital.”

Shocked by the admission, I gave his elbow a squeeze. “Oh, my God, is she all right?”

“She’s stable now.”

I wanted to ask him what had happened, but a moment later the clients arrived. King went to greet them, and I busied myself with the documents. It was a minute or two before I recognized one of them. Her name was Mila Rhodes, and I’d seen her before in a picture at King’s apartment. She was his ex-girlfriend, the one he broke up with because she wanted more than he could give.

Well, this was interesting.

I wondered if they’d met through doing business together. King didn’t seem at all affected by her presence. In fact, he still seemed preoccupied, probably over worry for his mum. He shook Mila’s hand and said hello to her just like he did the three men she’d arrived with. After the pleasantries were over, we all sat and got down to business. I sat on one side of King, my work laptop open in front of me to type down notes. The entire thing would have been a complete snoozefest if it weren’t for the underlying tension emanating from both Mila and her colleague, a middle-aged man named Vincent Jones.

I was good at reading people. Put it down to my years of bar work, watching how others interacted in social settings. And it was clear that something was going on between Mila and Vincent. I saw him touch her hand at one point during the meeting, but she’d very subtly pushed his fingers away, glancing surreptitiously at King, who was entirely oblivious to the exchange. Not me, though. I’d caught all of it, and surmised that Mila was having a relationship with Vincent that she didn’t want King to be aware of. Perhaps she was holding out hope he’d change his mind about settling down and come back to her. She didn’t want him to know about Vincent, that was for sure.

My seat was right next to King’s, and my laptop was open as I took the minutes for the meeting. At one point King leaned over to glance at my screen, his shoulder brushing mine as he shook his head. He wanted to correct something I’d written, but instead of telling me to do it, he reached over and did it himself. Practically leaning over me, he deleted a section of my notes before correcting them. I had no idea what to do with my hands as he typed, and felt a hot blush mark my cheeks at his familiarity and closeness. His cologne smelled gorgeous.

Even though Vincent had been talking the whole time, his voice filling the room, Mila hadn’t failed to notice. I saw her brows narrow in suspicion, and she cast me a considering look. And yes, just as before, King was entirely oblivious to it all, his mind focused completely on work.

The whole thing just made me feel awkward.

I didn’t know how to deal with posh people drama. If something like this were to happen at home, for instance, if one woman was jealous of another, it’d be handbags at dawn, earrings out, and a hair-pulling session. But here, in this professional environment inhabited by the wealthy and privileged, it was all narrow-eyed looks, passive-aggressive comments, and repressed anger.

I was practically bursting with the need to simply shout, There’s nothing going on! Because that’s what I’d do in any other setting, but not here. Here my employment was at stake. Soon the meeting drew to a close, and I excused myself to go use the bathroom. I’d just left the stall and was washing my hands when the door swung open and Mila Rhodes strode in.

Oh, for fu….

“Hello, Alexis,” she said, coming and setting her handbag by the sink. I nodded hello to her and turned off the tap as she pulled out a tube of lip gloss and began smearing it across her heart-shaped mouth. She was a petite little thing, at least a few inches shorter than me, and extremely pretty. She had one of those doll faces that always looked young, no matter the person’s age.

I had just turned to leave when Mila asked blatantly, “Are you fucking him?”

Well. Maybe these posh types didn’t beat around the bush after all.

I turned back around. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play coy. I’ve never seen him so comfortable with an assistant.”

Any morsel of politeness I had in me swiftly fled as I gave her a sardonic look. “Ah, well, that means we must be banging, then.”

“So you are sleeping together?”

“Oh, my God, that was sarcasm. But if you need me to spell it out for you, here it is: No, we’re not sleeping together.”

She snorted like she didn’t believe me, but I saw a flicker of pain in her eyes that told a thousand words.

“You still love him, don’t you?”

Her face hardened as she swallowed what appeared to be a lump in her throat. God, I was right. Sometimes I hated it when I was right. Gentling my voice, I took a step forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Take it from someone who’s been in many hopeless relationships. Move on. If he can’t see what’s good for him, then he’s not worth it. Find someone who is.” I paused, and Mila stared up at me, as though my kindness was the last thing she’d expected. “Vincent seems nice.”

A long breath escaped her, and her entire body seemed to sag. “He is nice.”

“You see? Mr King is a fool not to see what’s right in front of him. Unfortunately, fools can never be taught. They have to learn on their own.”

Absorbing my words, she nodded and sounded sincere when she said, “You’re right. I’m sorry for how I spoke to you.”

I smiled. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Water off a duck’s back.”

She moved away and put her lip gloss back in her handbag. I was about to leave when she looked at me seriously through the mirror. “He pulls you in, you know. You start off thinking the ball is in your court, but it never is. Before you know it, you’ve fallen for him, and it’s too late to go back to the way things were.”

Absorbing her words, I couldn’t quite tell if this was a warning or if she was just thinking out loud. Nevertheless, I gave her a sober nod. Leaving Mila in the ladies’ bathroom, I made my way back to King’s office, intent on having a serious word with him about his ex. However, as I reached his office door I paused, because a strange-looking woman was just leaving. She was probably in her fifties, had dyed red hair, and clothes that reminded me of a gypsy.

“Oh, hi,” I said, stepping back to let her go by.

She only gave me an ambiguous smile before continuing on her way. “Odd” didn’t begin to cover it. I’d never seen a woman who looked like her around here before. Shaking off the strangeness, I remained full of determination to confront King about Mila. That was until I walked into the room and saw him sitting on the sofa by the window, an open bottle of Macallan in front of him. He poured some into a glass, knocked it back in one go, and then repeated the process. Everything I’d planned on saying immediately fled my mind as concern took its place. I’d seen him drink at work before, but not like this. The bottle was more than half empty, and I knew it had been full when I’d seen it in the cabinet that morning.