The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights: 6 Book Romance Collection. Zara Stoneley
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your job?’
He starts fiddling with the arrangement in the middle of the table, a finger playing with a row of red beads entwined with the flower stems. I gulp and squirm in my seat. ‘The travel,’ he murmurs.
From the way he’s acting I was expecting something a bit juicier. ‘Oh. That’s it?’ I raise one eyebrow.
‘Isn’t it enough?’
‘I’d love to travel more, see the world.’
‘Yes but you don’t see the world, only an endless series of hotel bedrooms and conference facilities. If I’m lucky I eat in the restaurant, but I usually order room service so I can work at the same time.’
It sounds lonely. Joyless. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that. When you see it in movies it seems glamorous.’
‘It’s not.’ His expression is grim, lips pale. He’s wound so tight. I feel a ridiculous urge to offer him comfort, but that’s not allowed. ‘It’s tiring and relentless.’ He sighs. ‘Especially when there are people you’d rather be spending your time with.’
A girlfriend? My mind magics up an image of him kissing a skinny blonde. Ick. A friend? The look on his face doesn’t invite further questions so I settle with a soft, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ he grinds out. ‘I wasn’t looking for your sympathy.’
But he does need someone to talk to, and if it’s me, perhaps he’ll listen in return when I tell him about Tony? ‘I’d never dare offer you sympathy,’ I answer, tongue in cheek, ‘but what else?’
‘What else?’
‘What else do you not like about the job?’
‘I really shouldn’t—’
‘Just say it, Alex. No judgement, I promise.’
He checks if there’s anyone around to overhear but most people are picking over the fresh fruit and light desserts laid out on a long table on the other side of the room. My nose twitches at the rich aroma of coffee but I don’t want to leave the conversation, not when he’s showing trust in me.
‘Chairing disciplinary panels or grievance hearings,’ he shares. It’s quiet and torn from him.
It’s also a perfect opening. ‘You get involved in those?’
‘Yes, if they get to a certain stage in the group, not for the smaller companies. It’s rare, because they go through management, and directors hear appeals, but a few times I’ve been hearing officer where it’s involved very senior people.’
Maybe he wants me to interrupt, stop the flow of words but I won’t. I shift further forward in my chair so he can keep his voice down.
‘It’s difficult sometimes,’ he confesses, ‘because you never really know what’s happened, especially in a grievance where it’s two people at odds. There’s that saying about two sides to every story, isn’t there? Well, I’ve found each person has their own views and the truth generally falls somewhere in the middle.’
I wonder what he’d say about my situation. Will he believe I provoked Tony? Or deserved what happened to me?
He runs a hand through his hair again, leaving it spiked up and ruffled. I prefer the messy look. He looks younger, sexier. I shake my head and focus on listening. It’s the safest option. ‘And?’ I nudge. He hesitates. ‘It’s fine as long as you don’t talk about particular cases, isn’t it?’ I ask. ‘You won’t be breaching any confidentialities.’
‘No. Still, if an employee overheard me talking about it, even in general terms—’
‘I’m an employee.’
‘Not a direct one. And not after this weekend. Besides—’
‘Besides?’
‘Nothing.’ His cheekbones darken.
He’s not– Is he blushing? No. It must be a trick of the light. ‘Maybe your employees would appreciate you not taking this stuff lightly. Maybe they’d be gratified to hear how much care you take, that if they were ever to go through a formal process you’d be serious about the responsibility.’
‘I hadn’t thought of it like that,’ he concedes, drumming his fingers on the tablecloth.
‘It’s part of how we learn, isn’t it? Exchanging views with others, sorting through the different opinions for the ones which make the most sense to us.’
‘Not many people share their views with me. They’ll tell me what they think if I ask but don’t offer their thoughts freely. And I’m not sure how honest those opinions are.’
‘Ah.’ They probably don’t dare. One wrong opinion might get them fired. Yet from what Alex just said, and from the impression he gives of being fair, I don’t think it’s likely.
‘It’s the bullying allegations I find hardest,’ he circles back. ‘Is it a manager being a bully or them trying to proactively manage someone, bring them to account, and the employee not liking it?’ Blowing out an exasperated breath: ‘In the end it comes down to someone’s perceptions, and those are coloured by their personal attitudes, experiences and emotions. Unfortunately, by the time those cases get to me, sometimes too much has happened. The working relationship is at breaking point. It’s sad. We’ve lost good people that way.’
Would he class me as one of them? ‘I can see what you’re saying.’ I stretch across the table, grab a glass and pour some water into it, carefully. Letting delight at his emotional intelligence show would be premature. But it gives me hope.
As though a cork has popped from a bottle of suppressed feeling, he keeps going. ‘The biggest thing for me is that I’m fair. Disciplinaries and grievances involve real people. You’re making decisions about their employment that can really affect their lives. What if I get it wrong?’
‘You have doubts?’ I take a sip of water, the liquid cool on my tongue.
‘Of course I do. Even when it’s a robust process. There have been cases where I’ve had to make judgements based on the balance of probabilities.’
‘What does that mean?’ I probe. Throwing my head back, I gulp down the rest of my water. When I put the glass down Alex’s eyes flicker back to my face. Where was he looking?
‘Taking all the evidence into account and deciding what’s most likely to have happened.’
‘Sounds heavy.’ I kick myself. What an insensitive way to describe something which obviously causes him anxiety. Even worse because I know more than anyone the depth of distress caused by those situations.
He raises both eyebrows. ‘That’s one way of describing it.’ He gives a one-shouldered shrug, his beautifully cut black suit gleaming in the overhead lights. ‘I suppose even the justice system isn’t infallible, they get it wrong sometimes, and innocent people get sent to prison.’
‘But you’re not condemning people to be locked away.’ Shaking my head, ‘You’re too hard on yourself, Alex. And anyway, if you get it wrong, there must be someone to scrutinise your decision?’
‘No. I deal with cases at appeal stage, so the next step is tribunal.’
I shiver. It’s the perfect ‘in’, the perfect moment to move forward with the crucial part of the plan I came here to see through. I should tell him now, whilst he’s in this mindset, never mind where we are. With a deep breath, I go for it. ‘Actually Alex, on that subject there is something I wanted to—’
‘I hate going to tribunal,’ he announces, ‘though I guess no employer likes it. But I’ve seen so many vexatious claims made by people to get money, usually through a pre-hearing settlement.’ Temper smoulders in his eyes. ‘They drag everyone through the mud, uncaring of how much stress they cause.’
His