Page 33 of Falling for Raine
Graham’s lips twitched as he lifted his teacup. “It’s not quite so simple, is it? Julia is a smart woman. If Bernadette suspected you weren’t who you claimed to be, Julia would’ve known it for well over a week now. Any idea why she hasn’t fired you?”
I wrinkled my nose and sighed.
“Well…I think she felt kind of silly for hiring me in the first place. Maybe a little guilty too, since I made a huge move toanother country. She’s giving me a fast-track training session, and don’t worry…she’s also looking for a better replacement. But this isn’t her fault. This is on me,” I assured him emphatically. “All of it.”
“Hmm. What are youractualqualifications?”
“Research and analysis,” I replied quickly.
Graham perked up. “Oh?”
“I specialize in historical research. I have an art history degree, and I’ve always sort of had a thing for European and ancient Egyptian history.”
“Oh,” he deadpanned.
“But I’m a fast learner and a hard a worker. Long hours don’t bother me. I’ve done the receptionist thing, and I can file with the best of them. I’m kind of hoping to stay in England. Is there an assistant job at another office nearby? I can fit in anywhere. I can even fake a British accent. I’ll just…talk like you.” I cleared my throat. “Aye, mate. It’s a smashing time to do something brilliant, eh?”
Graham snorted in amusement, signaling for the check before regarding me in that cool, measuring way of his. “I do not sound like that, and neither does anyone else in all of England. No one holds being American against you. The problem is—and please take this the nicest way possible—you don’t fit at The Horsham Group, Raine. It makes sense now that I know you’re an academic, not a financier.”
“Nah, I’m not really an academic,” I admitted. “I just like history. And research.”
He waved his hand in my direction, and to his credit, looked a tad uncomfortable as he added, “To be blunt, you don’tlookthe part of an executive assistant. There was an iron mark on your shirt this morning. I’ve never seen that outside a cartoon. Ever.”
“Me either! I swear, that was a first.”
Graham chuckled. “I’m sure that’s true. Ours isn’t the laid-back atmosphere you might have enjoyed in academia or in your other assisting capacities. We have unspoken rules that you’re unfamiliar with—even in our US offices.”
“So…to stay on at your company, I’d need to change my personality and get a new wardrobe. Is that right?”
Graham scribbled his name on the check and pushed the leather binder to the edge of the linen-clothed table. “Don’t change, Raine.”
I nodded slowly. “O-kay…”
He leaned forward slightly. “I think the best thing to do is nothing. For now. Learn what you can from Julia over the next week or two, and then we’ll figure out where to place you. However, if you want to continue, you’ll need a wardrobe reboot. Julia can help. Are you ready to go?”
“So, that’s it?”
“Yes.”
His smile was dismissive, condescending, and cold. Sure, he was still hot as fuck, but his icy gaze stung. He was done with me. Problem solved, unexpected item checked off his to-do list, back to reality.
That should have been fine. Graham didn’t owe me a thing. In fact, he was being kind in his own way, but his cool mask was the dose of reality I’d been skirting around all day. My one-night stand was my new boss, and anything he offered was a pity position. My dignity had taken a few hits over the past year, but damn it, this felt like a new low.
I couldn’t do this.
“Thank you, but I decline.” I dabbed my mouth with the corner of my napkin, offering my hand as I stood. “Dinner was awesome-sauce. I appreciate it. And it was nice to see you again. Take care and good night, Mr. Horsham.”
Graham knit his thick eyebrows in a combination of disapproval and confusion. “Raine…”
I dropped my hand when he left me hanging and saluted him instead. “Later.”
And with that, I spun on my heel and marched directly into a waiter balancing a tray of dessert, cups, saucers, and yeah…tea.
China and silverware clattered and Victoria sponge cakes and Italian gelatos splattered obscenely on the expensive-looking carpet as lukewarm tea fell like rain. The whole restaurant went ghostly quiet for a blessed moment. And then all hell broke loose in a cacophony of gasps, shrieks, and a flurry of motion.
I instinctively bent to help gather broken dishes, apologizing profusely to the waiter and the grumpy man with buttercream frosting on his beard. The well-trained staff hurried over with the urgency of paramedics arriving at the scene of a car wreck. They took over, righting everything I’d fucked up within a few minutes.
The melee died as they retreated, leaving me standing in the middle of the mess I’d made with my one-night-stand-slash-ex-boss staring at me in horror. Or maybe exasperation?