Page 102 of Bargaining

“What’s your name?”

The rain bore down heavier. She held her hands protectively over her blonde curls.

“Olive.”

I motioned to Dave. “I think Olive might appreciate the umbrella.”

Dave opened out the sleek black umbrella, holding it over Olive’s head. She stepped under the arc of shelter and nodded her thanks.

“How long have you worked for me?”

“A year.”

This woman had worked for me a year, and I couldn’t have picked her out of an identity parade. The turnover of my assistants was usually so high, it wasn’t worth learning their names. But maybe if I wasn’t such a prick, I’d get to keep an assistant, or a wife for that matter, longer. At least Lucas would be pleased. He’d wonthe bet. My marriage had lasted less than six months. Amazing that Theo had been the optimist of the two of them.

I stared over the wet grass to the jutting steel and glass offices beyond. It reminded me of New York. Philip Thorner had always made me feel small, but standing in Times Square after the quiet pace of Ecclesdale had made me realize that I wasn’t just small, I was infinitesimal. That moment changed me. I understood that if I was ever going to escape my father’s clutches and make my mark on the world, it would take supreme effort and relentlessness. It would take every fiber of my fucking being. But I’d been a boy. It was the logic of a child. Now, I was a man. I wouldn’t be terrorized, and I would do everything within my power to be better.

“Your wife called and left a message.”

A flicker of hope lit my chest. I sat straighter. “Oh? Did she like the handbags? What about the flowers? Did you organize the villa in the Seychelles?”

She avoided eye contact. Not nervous. Afraid. “She said she wants you to stop sending things to the house.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“No.”

I ran a hand through my soaking hair. The hammering rain and the squawking of the pigeons at my feet as they fought each other viciously for the last crumbs filled my ears. I’d lost her. None of this mattered anymore. Not my father. Not the business. Only her.

Olive took a step back. “Was there anything else, Mr. Thorner?”

“What are the names of my other assistants?”

“Fiona and Seth.”

Olive, Fiona, and Seth. I could remember that.

“Apparently, a member of staff left, and they said this isn’t a pleasant working environment. What can I do to make it better?”

“Better?”

“Yes. How can I be a better boss?”

Rain machine-gunned off the umbrella over her head. She blinked. “I don’t know, Mr. Thorner. Everything is great as it is.”

“I know that’s not true. You can be honest. You won’t get into trouble. What would make you want to stay? What do I need to do? A more sophisticated coffee machine? Donuts?”

She frowned. “That would be nice. Maybe, if it was a little less ... intense. If you were a little more ... approachable.” Her smile was tense. “Some flexibility in working hours would be good. More work–life balance.”

Fine.I’d have HR do a staff survey. I could find out what people wanted and accommodate it.

She brightened. “Casual Fridays?”

If I didn’t feel so depressed, I might have had it in me to laugh. I managed an eyebrow raise. “Don’t push it, Olive.”

She smothered a smile. “Right.”

“Why don’t you get some more things for your fuddle? Whatever you like. Put it on expenses. Other people having a party doesn’t make me mad. I just don’t like surprises.”