Page 38 of The Rebel

He slams his palms down on the table so hard I jump. ‘Don’t act so damn naïve. You’re up to something with my clients.’

I try to remember if I’ve slipped up with any of my recent jobs and come up with nothing. He’s definitely trying to psych me out or probe for information.

‘Can you be more specific?’

‘This is a bloody outrage! You sitting there like butter won’t melt in your mouth when I know you’re screwing me over, you conniving c—’

‘That’s enough!’ Hart’s booming voice makes me jump for the second time in as many minutes and I swivel in my chair to find he’s entered through the side door.

He’s red-faced, scowling, and his shoulders are so rigid I could stack bricks on them.

Alf’s expression crumples. ‘I was going to say cow—’

‘I don’t give a fuck what you were going to say, you don’t call a lady names in the first place.’ He strides towards us like an avenging angel and looms over Alf, who is doing his best to shrink into his seat and disappear. ‘And you certainly don’t make half-assed accusations to an employee without proof. Now apologise.’

Alf crosses his arms and his mouth compresses into a thin, twisted line. He’s never apologised for his shitty behaviour towards me in the past so this will be a first; which I’ll probably pay for later. Maybe it’s time to move on from contemplating leaving to actually doing it.

‘A client in Brisbane mentioned something about your lackadaisical approach on his job—’

‘That doesn’t sound like an apology to me.’ Hart perches on the table in front of Alf, ensuring he towers over him. ‘And you’d better make it good because if you don’t I will personally fund this talented young woman’s solo foray into PR so she never works for your slimy ass again.’

Alf gapes like a goldfish and I sit on my hands to stop from applauding.

Hart, my hero.

It doesn’t take Alf long to reassemble his wits. Nothing keeps his big mouth shut for long. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbles, staring at some point over my shoulder.

Hart leans forward so he’s almost in Alf’s face. ‘If you don’t make a better job of it than that, I will sack you right now and give the advertising contract for my entire business to Daisy Adler.’

I assume it’s an empty bluff but I stare at Hart like he’s a knight come to rescue me. I want to clamber all over him and hug him tight but that would only undermine my professional stance and ensure I get fired rather than an apology.

Predictably, the threat of losing money works. Alf sits straighter and actually looks at me this time. ‘I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, Daisy, I’m sorry.’

Hart’s frown deepens and Alf adds, ‘You’re doing an excellent job.’

‘She certainly is.’

I don’t need Hart’s affirmation but it helps, as a warm glow of pride spreads in my chest. Sure, I get clients thanking me after I finish a campaign but it’s usually Alf who receives the accolades because he makes out he’s the brains behind our unit.

One day we’ll be in competition for business and I can’t wait to go up against him.

‘Is there anything else you need to discuss or can I confer with my PR rep on where my campaign is at?’ Hart clasps his hands and rests them on his thighs, instantly drawing my attention to his quads and evoking a memory of how I stroked them in the early hours of the morning.

Heat flushes my face and as if sensing my thoughts he switches his potent gaze from Alf to me. I feign a cough and he smirks, knowing exactly how he affects me.

‘No, I don’t need to be here for you to meet with Daisy.’ Alf struggles to his feet, considering his ass is wedged in the chair. ‘I’ve seen what she’s come up with for your island so far and it’s very promising.’

It’s better than promising and we both know it, but I’m used to his pompous proclamations. Hart isn’t.

‘Her work is extraordinary,’ Hart says, standing next to Alf, presumably to help shove him out of the door. ‘I’m more than satisfied.’

‘Good, good,’ Alf starts to bluster again, out of his depth and intimidated but trying not to show it. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

Neither of us speak as Alf shuffles out of the door, suitably cowed. Only when the door closes do I allow myself the luxury of touching Hart. A hand resting on his forearm that can’t be misconstrued if anyone happens to come into the conference room.

‘Thank you. No one’s ever stood up for me like that before.’

He makes a disparaging sound, half snort, half grunt. ‘I hate bullies.’

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