Page 8 of Best Mistake Ever
She’s an attractive woman all right, with her big, blue eyes and wide, cupid-bow mouth.
Before the fucked-up events of a few months ago, I’d have found her increasingly unsubtle advances both entertaining and charming, but I’m well past that point now. They just remind me of what an idiot I was to have been so trusting of Tessa. In retrospect, I realise I let her beauty and charisma dazzle me to the point where I missed what was going on right under my nose.
I’m never letting myself fall for that bullshit again.
There’s a bang as Delilah lets the outside door to the staff area shut behind her and I stroll out from my office, folding my arms across my chest in readiness for the confrontation.
‘Morning, Delilah. Good of you to finally join us,’ I say.
Okay, so it’s not my wittiest retort ever, but I’m not in the mood for any nonsense today.
She comes to an abrupt halt when she sees me there, waiting for her.
‘Oh!’ she says, staring at me like she’s seen a ghost, her eyes wide and a little wild. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning.’
Is she high?
Surely not. She knows how much the smooth running of this event means to me – and that I’ll fire her ass if anything goes wrong with it.
‘You’re late. You promised me you’d be on time.’
She visibly swallows. ‘I… yes. You’re absolutely right. I’m really sorry. There was some traffic. I think some animals got loose and were roaming?—’
But I don’t have the patience for her excuses and I hold up my hand in a halting gesture. ‘Whatever. Just make sure everything else goes perfectly today.’
Her answering nod is firm, which makes me think she took the lecture I gave her on Friday, about the fine line she’s treading at the moment, seriously.
Not that her continuing to work for me is guaranteed anyway. Things clearly need to change around here if I’m going to make this place a success.
‘Okay, will do, Mr Jacobson.’
That’s weird. She’s never called me Mr Jacobson before. She usually just calls me, ‘Boss,’ in that teasing way of hers.
In fact, now I look at her properly, there’s definitely something slightly off-kilter about her. Not bad off-kilter though, just… she’s giving me a different vibe to the one I usually get from her.
What the hell is it that’s bothering me?
‘You seem different. What’s different about you?’ I snap. The need for everything to go smoothly today is clearly fraying my nerves.
‘Er, my hair maybe? I fancied having long hair today so I’m wearing a wig.’ She flashes me a smile but her eyes don’t quite meet mine. What’s she playing at? There’s something not right here.
‘Well, for God’s sake, take it off. This isn’t fashion week. I need you focused on being professional and making sure this meeting runs like clockwork, not disappearing off to the ladies’ every five minutes to pimp your appearance.’
Her eyes narrow a fraction before she readjusts her expression to one of consolatory cheerfulness. ‘I’ll tie it up out of the way.’
I sigh. ‘No. I said take it off. If you fight me on this, you can consider yourself fired.’
I won’t have it, this obsession with appearance. It’s an unnecessary distraction. And I’ve had enough of her trying to get round me with her flirty ways. She’s here to do a job.
She appears a little shaken by my demand, her hands shooting up to her hair as if she’s afraid I’ll whip the wig off her head right there in the corridor, and I experience a sting of self-reproach. But I’m not going to pander to her whims right now, not when Harry’s due to arrive at any moment.
Colour rises in her cheeks.
‘The thing is, I let a student hairdresser cut my hair at the weekend and she made a bit of a mess of it. I didn’t have the heart to ask her to fix it. That’s really why I’m wearing a wig.’
This small act of humility does something to my insides. Delilah’s never struck me as the compassionate type. She seems a little too self-centred for that.
I guess it goes to show that you shouldn’t judge people before you get to know them – something I’ve deliberately been avoiding doing with Delilah since she started here. It seemed too risky, considering the way she looks at me from under her lashes with such intensity, like she’s sizing me up for a fling.
