I STILL LOVE YOU, BUT...

CHAPTER 7

AMANDA

"Mr. Remington? Are you in here, sir --- "

I wrench myself from Tristan's embrace. Scoot back two steps, just in time.

His PA, Marcus Reed, appears in the doorway. Blinks when he sees me.

"What is it, Reed?" Tristan says. He sounds remarkably unruffled. There's a damp patch of moisture on his pinstripe suit jacket, about the size of my face. It could pass as sweat --- except that Tristan Remington doesn't sweat; he is always impeccably groomed. He could be in the middle of the Sahara Desert and still look as if he's just stepped straight out of the pages of a high-end men's fashion magazine.

"Sir, there's a call for you from Mr. Harris. He says it's urgent." Reed clears his throat awkwardly. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know you were --- "

"I came down here to Marketing to check on something, and Miss --- " Tristan arches a dark eyebrow at me.

"Barnes," I squeak.

" --- Miss Barnes here will provide a full report on it tomorrow, first thing in the morning. Isn't that correct, Miss Barnes?" He looks at me impassively.

There is a beat of silence, and then I nod vigorously, "Yes, sir. Certainly, sir. The ROYA Report will be on your desk first thing in the morning. Sir."

Tristan stares at me, I stare back.

"The ROYA Report, yes. I would appreciate that very much indeed, Miss Barnes."

Tristan's mouth quirks, just the barest twitch.

Tristan's eyes are glinting. There's no doubt about it. He's amused.

"Mr. Remington, about Mr. Harris --- " Reed says nervously.

"I'll call him now," he says to his PA, his gaze floating across me to Reed.

"Thank you, Mr. --- " I begin.

But he's already exiting the door without a backward glance at me, his PA scurrying behind.

..............................

Next morning.

My 33rd day of employment at Remington Inc.

7.20 a.m., and I'm out the door.

I am in a ruffled white silk blouse and a tight black pencil skirt. My hair is tied back into a ponytail. I am all business-like today, a working drone.

10.00 a.m.

I'm instructed by Doris to go down to the basement to scour out an ancient file.

It is a dark, dank dungeon. Spiders and cobwebs lurk in the shadow of cabinets.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles.

Somebody is watching me. I can feel it.

A ghost?

A rat?

A...bat?

Cold sweat rolls down my spine.

A hollow clunk from the basement door startles me, and I drop a file. Papers scatter in two hundred directions.

I can see a person's shadow move against the far wall.

I shriek.

"It's me." A calm, gravelly voice. One that had murmured kind, gentle words in my hair. Comforted me.

I stop.

Tristan steps out from behind a rusty file cabinet. If he brushes against it, he's going to need a tetanus booster.