Chapter One: Imogen, Present Day

[This story will be removed from Wattpad on August 3, 2023]

"Did you know Imogen's a dancer?"

Against my will, Tabitha hauled me back into the conversation with the three guys sharing our table. Coming to this club with Eleanor and Tabitha had seemed like a great idea earlier this evening. Loud music to drown out my nagging thoughts, dancing with attractive guys to distract me from a man who now only existed in my memories, and two friends who reminded me of simpler times when the music, dancing and cheap alcohol could solve any problem.

"A dancer, huh?" the guy beside me said, his eyes sweeping over my body. "How much do you charge?"

His two companions cackled, as if their friend hadn't just recycled an over-used line that I'd heard a hundred times before.

"You wouldn't be able to afford me," I said, mirroring his actions by dragging my gaze from his eyes downwards.

An equally predictable response, but then the guy didn't seem interested in originality. Tabitha, however, was not impressed.

"A ballroom dancer," she added with a rush of urgency, shooting me a glare.

Apparently unfazed by my attempt to put him back in his place, the guy pushed on.

"A ballroom dancer? Can't imagine that. You're far too sexy to be prancing about with some stuck-up guy who's barely allowed to touch you."

It was a pity I didn't find blind ignorance endearing, otherwise I'd have been back at his flat already rather than listening to him talk shit.

"She does Latin, too," Eleanor said.

I narrowed my eyes at her, but she didn't take the hint. It couldn't be more obvious that Eleanor and Tabitha wanted me to hit it off with the guy. They'd already set their sights on his two friends, and although they were a good-looking bunch, I wasn't in the mood.

"I'm going to the bathroom," I said, easing myself out from behind the table and then resting my eyes on the comedian next to me. "Why don't you get another round in?"

See, I was making an effort with him.

Tabitha and Eleanor scurried after me, wasting no time in launching into their attack as soon as we joined the queue for the ladies' bathroom.

"For fuck's sake, Imogen. What's wrong with you tonight? Must we do all the work for you?" Tabitha asked.

"I'd rather you didn't do any work for me. I could not be less interested in that guy."

Away from the thumping music and flashing lights of the main floor, we could talk much more easily—not that that would be a good thing if all they intended to do was give me a hard time.

"But Bryce is hot. You never turn down a jaw that chiselled or arms that big."

"First time for everything," I said, deadpan.

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "You need to get over that loser you met on holiday. He doesn't give a shit about you, Immy. No calls. No texts. Nothing. So why are you turning your nose up at hunks like Bryce? Two months ago, you'd have been grinding on his lap."

Despite her brutal manner of delivering it, she spoke the truth. Jason hadn't called me after we returned from a summer of mind-blowing sex in Greece. He hadn't even sent a message. Three weeks on, it was starting to feel like he'd been nothing but a figment of my imagination.

But no. It would be impossible to imagine sex as good as that. Jason's bedroom skills far surpassed any guy I'd been with before, and I doubted anyone would ever match him going forwards, too. Certainly not Bryce, despite his chiselled jaw and big arms. Why even bother sleeping with him when all I'd achieve was a reminder of how good I'd had it in Greece?

"Look, we really like his two friends," Tabitha said. "But Bryce is clearly the one who calls the shots, and you know how it is..."

"Okay, girls. Maybe I am still caught up on Jason, but that is not stopping you from going home with those boys. I don't need to hold your hand or be the one to suggest it. If you want to sleep with them, then do it."

The queue had moved forwards until we were almost in the bathroom, and a few women at the sinks turned upon hearing my raised voice. Tabitha and Eleanor flushed and lowered their heads, obviously not comfortable with the rest of the toilets hearing how they lacked the confidence to pursue a one-night stand without their friend's encouragement.

A toilet became vacant, and Tabitha and Eleanor headed towards it, turning at the last minute to look at me. Eleanor tapped her finger against her bag and jerked her head towards the cubicle.

I declined.

Not even Jason Walters could tempt me back into that.

*

The following Monday, as I got ready for my first day at work, the message arrived.

Jason Walters:
Good luck with your first day. X

I stared at it, temporarily distracted from applying my mascara. When the screen timed out, I flipped the phone onto its front to hide any further notifications.

I'd had the chance to revisit the past in the club at the weekend—one last blowout before doing something serious with my life. Instead, a night that would have been the perfect source of entertainment two months ago had ended with me leaving before midnight, while my two usually more cautious friends opted to stay. The whole evening had been more of a reminder of my summer than a distraction.

With that in mind, I applied another layer of foundation to mask the freckles that had developed from a month of swimming, sunbathing and sight-seeing. If only the makeup could erase the memory of it, too.

Greece had been fun, but I'd been reckless. It had just been the pinnacle of a year's worth of careless behaviour and stupid choices, really.

This new job held promise of a bright career—the time for poor decision-making was over.

I ignored the text. It was three weeks late, anyway.

*

"Are you nervous?"

The question caught me off-guard. Tearing my eyes away from surveying the modern, open-plan office space, I met the friendly gaze of Ian, the company's VP. 

"Should I be?" I asked.

He smiled and led me through into a small meeting room, leaving the door open. "No. First days are easy, right?"

We discussed what to expect over the first couple of weeks, and then Ian talked me through a series of documents that I needed to complete for HR purposes.

"It's always the most boring things that are the most crucial," he said, pushing the papers towards me. "The director here, for example. Very important. Not very interesting."

The twinkle in his eye suggested he was joking, and the wink that followed confirmed it.

After we'd discussed the paperwork, Ian introduced me to my colleagues, reeling off name after name. By the time he'd reached the Editorial team—where I'd be working—I'd already forgotten those from Sales, Customer Service and Marketing.

"And this is Maya Chopra. She'll be your mentor for your first few months here."

Maya tucked her shoulder-length hair behind her ear and then thrust her hand forwards, smiling at me. "Nice to meet you and welcome to the team."

I shook her hand, returning her firm grip. "Thanks. It's good to finally start."

"I bet. These applications take forever." She shot an amused look in Ian's direction and he folded his arms.

"We'll let you control the process next time, Maya."

"I'd be happy to."

She sat back down and crossed one long leg over the other, interlinking her fingers on the desk in front of her. 

"One more person to introduce you to, and then you can get cracking with Maya," Ian said. "She'll look after you."

I followed him across the office to a metallic set of double doors built into the far wall. It wasn't until he pressed a button to the side of them, which illuminated green shortly afterwards, that I realised it was a well-concealed lift.

"Yes?" A soft yet authoritative voice spoke through an intercom.

"It's me," Ian said. "You got time for a quick introduction to the new starter?"

The doors separated, and Ian gestured for me to step inside. I had several questions, but I'd barely opened my mouth before the lift completed its short journey and the doors pulled apart again, revealing a private office.

At the far end, directly opposite the lift, a man sat at a glass desk, his head bowed as he stared at his laptop. The director, no doubt. I'd tried searching him online but had found nothing of much use to me apart from articles about his successful business decisions. No photos, no insight into his interests and no background information—nothing to help humanise him before we met.

"Imogen, I'd like you to meet our company director," Ian said, striding towards the desk with a level of confidence that prompted me to stand up straighter. "Jason Stafford."

I followed Ian towards the desk, grateful for the director's apparent interest in his laptop screen so I didn't feel like I was walking down a catwalk under judging eyes.

When I reached the desk, he snapped his laptop lid shut and stood up, his eyes meeting mine. Eyes that were all too familiar.

My stomach clenched as recognition settled within me, horror coursing through my veins followed by another emotion that was beyond inappropriate for the current situation. I let my eyes drift over him, convinced that I must be hallucinating.

Tanned skin from hours of sunbathing, swimming and sight-seeing. A smattering of facial hair now neatly trimmed. A navy, tailored suit that hugged his body, hiding the contours of muscles that I'd ran my hands over time after time after time...

"Nice to meet you. I'm Jason Stafford."

He offered me his hand, his eyes boring into mine yet giving nothing away. There was no acknowledgement that we knew each other, no suggestion that we'd spent the last month in bed together. Remembering that Ian was still present, I extended my own hand and he shook it, his fingers curling around me in a firm grip.

The last time he'd held my hand in such a vice-like manner, he'd been pinning it against the bathroom wall as he'd pounded into me mercilessly from behind. I could almost hear the erotic sounds of skin slapping against skin each time his hips met mine, under the torrent of gushing water.

Goosebumps prickled my skin, settling between my legs where the tingling intensified.

And then I finally caught up with myself. Who the fuck was Jason Stafford?

*

"Don't worry," Ian said as we left the lift together a few minutes later. "He has that effect on everyone."

"Excuse me?"

My time in that room had been a blur, my head unable to focus on anything but how the man behind that desk had spent the summer sending my body into euphoric bliss. The man who hadn't bothered getting in touch after the summer ended. The man who was now my boss.

"Stunning them into silence. He looks intimidating, I get it. But I promise you'll get used to him."

My shock hadn't gone unnoticed, then, but at least Ian thought it was due to me being intimidated by Jason—rather than the sordid, awkward truth.

"So, does Jason spend all his time up there?" I asked, jerking my head back towards the lift.

Ian paused before answering. "No, not at all. He actually has a desk down here in the main room but uses his office for private meetings and phone calls."

I nodded. "Got it. Well, thanks for the introduction. I'm sure I'll learn not to be too intimidated by him."

Let's run with that lie. Ian had kindly set it up for me, and I clutched at it with determination not to let the truth out.

Ian smiled. "You'll get to know him in no time at all."

Get to know him. I already knew him, although apparently not as well as I'd thought considering he now had a different name.

"So, are you all set, then? Any questions before I release you into Maya's den?" Ian asked.

I shook my head. "No. Although, if you could point me in the direction of the bathroom, that'd be great."

I needed five minutes alone to gather my thoughts and come to terms with this horrifying coincidence, and then I could properly dedicate my attention to Maya and focus on getting through my first day.

"Sure, just continue past the lift and it's the first door on the left, just around the corner."

The bathrooms were beautiful, with a marble floor, huge mirrors and flattering lighting, but that only distracted me for a couple of seconds. I braced my hands on the edge of the sink and counted to ten in my head. Conversations from summer spun around in my mind, but I couldn't pinpoint one that would have warned me that this was about to happen.

How could I work for the man who'd spent the summer giving me orgasm after orgasm? How could I see anything but his naked body every time I looked at him? How could I see him as my boss when he knew every little detail about my sexual tastes?

Jason Stafford.

The bastard had lied about his name. What else had he lied about?

Then a chilling realisation hit me.

What had I lied about?

***

Thank you for reading :) xx