Page 105 of Wildflower
He sighs. “Does it have anything to do withWhat Happens in Mayfair?”
A cold sensation spreads in my gut. His wife reads that crap. What the fuck has been posted now? Did anyone see Rey at my place?
“I haven’t received the latest PR report, so I can’t say.”
There’s a rumbling sound on the other end, as if he’s muttering under his breath. “Alright, let me have a look. I’ll squeeze you in for lunch today, and cancel someone I like much less,” he says finally with a chuckle. “How about The Orion again? I’ve not been since you took me last and I’ve heard the new dim-sum is sublime.”
The Orion has great food, but it’s also a strategic choice—a private membership club allows for private conversations, which we’ve had our fair share of over the years, but never about my private life.
There’s a light knock on my glass door after I finish the call, and I look up to see Nia, my Head of HR, peering at me over the frosted section.
What doesshewant?
I wave her in. Unfortunately, I do have time to speak, but I don’t want to. The sight of her brings back the ice to my gut. HR popping in is never good news, especially after what Graham just said. Can it be a coincidence?
“What can I do for you, Nia?” I ask and bite down, hoping my nervousness doesn’t show. Rey doesn’t talk to Nia about personal things, does she? I know they know each other.
Nia smiles and closes the door behind her.
“Two things. Do you want the good or bad news first?”
I sigh. “Good, please. Assuming the latter will need discussion?”
She sits down on the chair in front of my desk without answering.
“I’ll keep it short. We did weekly pulse surveys over the last few months, and we’ll share the results in the report to the board, but I thought I’d let you know that employee morale is looking up. Way up. It seems the team is content with Horace’s approach, and with you being more visible and involved.”
“That’s great.”
“The comments show specifically that they enjoy working on the new design.”
“More than one person wrote that?” I’d assume Rey would, of course.
“Yes, several. That’s why I wanted to tell you now, to let you know it seems the team finds this new direction inspiring. Have you thought about offering Horace the creative director role? Give him some more autonomy in the space?”
“No.”
“Oh,” she says, slumping. “I was of the understanding you wanted someone in that role to take the pressure off you, and Horace is proving himself already.”
I lean forward, clasping my hands on my desk. “Horace will have to want it, and he’ll have to apply for it. We’re not giving promotions away. You know this better than anyone.”
“Of course. Except he did apply, and you gave him the art director role instead, which he accepted with the expectation of a step up after probation.”
“He still needs to show he wants it badly enough.”
She nods, knowing my tone says that’s the end of this conversation.
“Now, the bad news,” I say and lean back again, bracing for the worst.
Someone saw you with Rey.
It’s all over the internet.
“Umm, okay, so,” she hesitates, but then clears her throat and straightens her back. “You’re the topic of yesterday’sWhat Happens in Mayfairand there’s some speculation about a secret affair.”
I furrow my brow at the words, and she shifts in her chair, but I sense there’s more, so I remain silent.
“The discussion is aboutwhyit’s a secret,” she continues, eyes scanning my face, “and there are theories floating around that it’s someone from InfinioGames.”
