I stared at him, finding his choice of conversation topic surreal. Oliver King really didn’t have any tact, but oddly, I didn’t mind. In fact, I kind of liked it. When I’d taken this job, I thought I’d be stuck working with a bunch of stiffs.

I wasn’t sure why I said what I did next. It was a mixture of being a smart-arse and having no filter. I grinned at King and deadpanned, “So, what you’re saying is, he came and went?”

There was a beat of silence before King let out a loud guffaw of a laugh. Smiling widely, he leant in and rested his hands on the desk as he responded with a wink, “I prefer to say he arrived before departing.”

I chuckled. “Well okay, then, if you want get all fancy about it.”

We were still grinning at one another when Eleanor cut in, “Mr King, I do believe you have a meeting in twenty minutes that you need to prepare for.”

King didn’t look away from me for a moment as his grin began to fade. Having his eyes on me made me feel a little goose-pimplish. Finally, he nodded and turned, striding inside his office with Gillian following behind. I returned to my data entry, and a minute or two of quiet passed before Eleanor said, “I think you two might be a little too alike.” She paused, and there was a smile in her voice. “After I’m gone, maybe let Gillian accompany Mr King on trips. I shudder to think what the two of you would be like unleashed on prospective clients.”

I shot her a questioning look. “Trips?”

“Sometimes he requires us to accompany him on business trips. It’s only really once or twice a year.”

“Oh, right,” I said, frowning a little. I must have blanked over that part of the job description, too full of glee when I saw the size of my yearly salary. Oh, yes. This year was going to see quite a lot of cake buying once the money started to roll in.

The morning passed quickly. When lunch time came, I declined accompanying Eleanor and Gillian to a sushi restaurant in favour of grabbing a sub from a nearby deli. I needed the carbs, and I never felt full after sushi. And okay, maybe I should have been eating more sushi than subs, because I was carrying a little extra weight, but I just couldn’t seem to summon up the urge to care. My body was what it was. I’d inherited it from my curvaceous Greek mother, and life was too short to go around eating packets of zero-calorie jelly from Japan.

I brought my food back to the office and found the place relatively quiet, since most people were either dining out, or were in the cafeteria having lunch. I had planned on eating at my desk, then making a start on the remainder of the workload I had to complete, when my attention wandered to King’s office door.

My nosiness was urging me to go inside and take a look around, and I knew from his schedule that he wasn’t due back from his afternoon meeting until three. Bringing my lunch with me, I stepped inside his office and marvelled at the view. His desk was big and imposing, and there were a number of picture frames on the wall. Two of them showed his university certificates. He had a first-class honours degree in finance and accounting from the London School of Economics, and a masters in finance from Cambridge. I whistled as I took them in. An education like that must have cost a pretty penny. But then I realised that King’s family probably wasn’t hurting for cash when I took in the next frame.

It showed an old concert poster for Elaine King, a world-renowned concert pianist who had her heyday in the late eighties/early nineties. She was now a renowned shut-in, think Agnetha from ABBA but classier. It didn’t take much for me to put two and two together and figure out that she was related to King somehow, and taking in her blonde hair and familiarly refined features, I’d put my money on her being his mother. Wow.

I saw a door leading to an in-office bathroom and took a step inside, letting out a few choice swearwords when I saw the size of the place. It was probably bigger than my and Karla’s entire flat. It boasted a large walk-in shower, a closet, and floor-to-ceiling windows with that special glass that went either clear or frosted at the touch of a button. The pièce de resistance, however, was the fancy designer sofa that went along one side of the room. I mean, a sofa like that in a bathroom like this just screamed extravagance, and since I only had a crappy threadbare one at home that had definitely seen better days, I couldn’t help but to plop down on it and dig into my sub.

Yes, I was eating lunch in my boss’s en suite bathroom while enjoying the view of the city beyond. Probably not the cleverest of moves. And yes, it was weird, but I couldn’t resist taking advantage of the luxury. Who knew when I’d next have the chance?

Pulling out my phone, I browsed Facebook as I chowed down, intermittently chuckling at funny statuses or shaking my head cynically at the usual whack jobs. I came across a collection of photos from a distant cousin of mine, taken at her wedding vows renewal.

Hmm, bitch never invited me. I swear to God, it was the height of excess to have 350 pics of the same event, but like the weirdo that I (and, let’s face it, all of us were) I couldn’t help but to keep on clicking, like I needed to see ten variations of the same scene more than a crackhead needed her next fix.

I was lost deep in the Facebook vortex when the distinct clearing of a male throat caused me to jump and drop my phone in fright. Glancing up, I found King standing in the doorway, arms crossed and a curious look on his face. He was back early. Of course he’d come back early.

“Enjoying your lunch?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

What was that sound, I hear you ask? Why, it was my heart plopping right out onto the floor and crawling away in mortification.