Page 9

“Amelia, could you come in here, please?”
“Of course, Mr. Davenport.”
A soft tap on the door, and she enters. Her hips sway as she walks towards my desk, a gentle rhythm that matches the click of her heels on the hardwood floor. Her dark brown hair is tied up in a high ponytail and swings with each step.
I stare at her face. It’s perfect. She has an upturned nose with a dash of light freckles, and wide azure blue eyes with long, dark lashes. When she smiles, my breath catches.
“What would you like to discuss?”
Her voice snaps me back to reality. I clear my throat, suddenly unsure of what to say.
I clear my throat, trying to find the right words. “Amelia, about Friday night...”
She stiffens, her eyes widening slightly. “Yes, Mr. Davenport?”
“I, uh...” I fumble, my usual composure slipping. “I couldn’t help but notice...I saw you...at Club Elysium.”
A faint blush creeps up her neck. “I know.”
“And I just wanted to...clarify. Why were you in Club Elysium?”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?”
I realize too late how inappropriate my question is. But now that it’s out there, I can’t take it back.
She crosses her arms. “Why were you?”
“I’m the boss here, Miss Ross. Answer the question.”
“My downtime is my time, Mr. Davenport.”
“In a sex club?”
“Hypocrite...much?” Her eyes flash with defiance.
We stare at each other, neither willing to back down. The tension in the room is palpable.
Finally, she sighs. “If you must know, I was letting off steam. I found my boyfriend...ex-boyfriend shagging one of my friends.”
“Ex-boyfriend?” I try not to smile.
She nods, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her expression. “Yes. Ex.”
I lean back in my chair, processing this information. “I see. I’m sorry to hear that,” I lie.
“It’s fine,” she says, but her voice wavers slightly. “Is that all, Mr. Davenport?”
“No.” I sigh, realizing this conversation is far from over.
“Amelia, my private life needs to remain just that—private. I hope you understand.”
She huffs, crossing her arms. “Mr. Davenport, I would tell no one about seeing you there. Your sex life choices are yours to make.”
“I don’t...” I start, but catch myself. What am I about to say? That I don’t frequent such places for the reason she must be thinking? That I’m not that kind of man?
Amelia quirks an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue, but I decide to keep my private business to myself.
“Let’s make a deal,” I say, leaning forward. “We both agree not to talk about this to anyone else. What happens outside of work stays outside of work.”