Page 19 of Only for Christmas

Sarah smiled. ‘Have fun.’

‘I intend to.’ Georgia returned her attentions to the man at the bar.

Leaving Georgia to flirt, Sarah made her way across the room, aiming for an alcove tucked away at the back. Jafrina was already seated there, along with Tyler, whose wheelchair didn’t quite fit under the designer table.

Relieved to be heading for safer ground, Sarah made a beeline for them. She always felt on edge in crowds – although, she hadn’t always felt that way. Being humiliated in front of a hundred-plus people had been the catalyst for withdrawing from mass socialising. She didn’t need a therapist to tell her why feeling conspicuous in a crowded room would act as a trigger. She was intuitive enough to work that one out for herself.

Faking a confidence she didn’t feel, she waved at various colleagues as she squashed past them, pretending to feel more at ease than she did. Everyone else was dressed up for a night out. It hadn’t occurred to her to bring a change of clothes. But then, she hadn’t intended to be here. It was only constant pressure throughout the day from her team that had persuaded her to come. Her plan was to make small talk for twenty minutes, enjoy one drink and then escape as soon as possible. Besides, once the alcohol started flowing, no one would miss her.

‘Sarah, you came.’ A hand caught her arm before she could reach the safety of the alcove. ‘I wasn’t sure whether you’d be here. You didn’t reply to my secretary’s message?’

All the relief she’d felt moments earlier drained out of her. Using the momentum of twisting to face him, she dislodged Stephen’s hand from her arm. ‘Apologies, I meant to reply to Rosetta’s message, but I got caught up with a work matter.’

She always made a point of using his PA’s name in the hope he’d take the hint and stop referring to such an experienced employee as his ‘secretary’. But he seemed oblivious to his condescending manner. Or maybe it was intentional.

There was a calculating air about Stephen Stokes that was extremely off-putting. He was wearing a black shirt with the top few buttons undone, no doubt intended to show off his tanned chest and gold chain.

Behind him, a group of doctors were gathered together, including Lucas Moore, her new neighbour. When Lucas glanced over, his face broke into a huge grin… which might have been quite comforting, if she hadn’t been so rattled by Stephen’s ambush. Lucas was also wearing a fitted black shirt, but on him it didn’t look creepy. Quite the opposite, in fact.

‘You mustn’t focus so much on work,’ Stephen was saying, using the excuse of a surge in the crowd to edge closer. ‘Everyone needs social time away from the office to relax and unwind.’

Spoken like the entitled consultant he was. A man who had reached the point in his career where he now called the shots. Sarah didn’t have that luxury; she was still proving herself as a senior manager. If she didn’t give her job total focus, she’d be out on her ear.

Stephen’s gaze dipped to her mouth. ‘Can I get you another drink?’

She lifted her glass, trying to preserve the minimal gap between them. She wished the crowd would disperse so she could escape. ‘No, thanks. I still have this.’

‘That won’t last long. We can’t have you running out.’ He snapped his fingers at one of the junior administrators nearby and sent her off to the bar for a bottle of champagne. ‘I’m sure you won’t say no to a glass of fizz.’ It was delivered as a statement rather than a question, so she didn’t bother replying. ‘No work tomorrow, so let your hair down.’ He lifted his hand as if he was about to touch her, forcing her to jerk backwards, resulting in her spilling wine down her front.

Her hand immediately came up to stop him approaching. ‘It’s fine. I can manage.’

‘Someone’s edgy tonight.’ Stephen’s eyes were now locked on her see-through wet shirt, and it took all her willpower not to chuck the contents of her drink in his face.

Feeling self-conscious, she buttoned up her suit jacket, trying to divert his stare elsewhere. The scent of malt whiskey, mingling with his strong aftershave, confirmed her theory that Stephen Stokes had been knocking back the shots.

‘Excuse me. I need to wash this wine off before it stains,’ she said, aiming for a gap in the crowd in the hope of escaping.

‘Not so fast.’ Again, he caught her arm. ‘Why haven’t you accepted my friend request on Facebook?’

‘I’m not a fan of social media.’ Which was entirely true.

Since being jilted she’d deleted nearly all of her accounts. Most of the comments had been kind and consoling, but reading about how wretched everyone felt only added to her shame. Friends of friends had started messaging her. They were sorry to hear about her ordeal. How awful. Did she have any idea? Surely, she must have had a clue things weren’t right? Like somehow it was her fault for being naive and she should have seen it coming.

And then the nasty remarks had appeared. How Josh must have had a good reason for dumping her. Had he found something out? Maybe she’d been unfaithful? This was followed by a host of responses, people falling into two categories: those defending her, and those supporting the rumours. It had been torture. So, she’d removed herself from public scrutiny.

‘I couldn’t find you on LinkedIn or Instagram,’ Stephen continued, his face uncomfortably close. ‘And when I googled you, nothing came up. Strange, for a young person to be off-grid. Anything I should know about?’

He’d googled her? She felt slightly sickened at the idea he’d been so intrusive, but equally relieved that his search hadn’t thrown up anything about her disastrous non-wedding day. It was her biggest fear, that somehow her humiliation would reach a wider audience than it already had. ‘There’s nothing you should know. Like I said before, I prefer to keep my personal life private.’

‘But you do have a Facebook account?’

‘I limit it to close friends and family.’

‘I’m a friend,’ he said, opening his arms, no doubt aiming for sincerity, but making her skin crawl.

‘I’m not friends with anyone from work.’

‘I’m sure you can make an exception. How else am I supposed to get to know you? I’ve invited you to lunch three times this week and each time you’ve turned me down. I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me.’

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