‘I’m really enjoying working with you, Charley. You’re a good boss,’ he said, seeming to emphasise the last word.
Phew. He got that all we had was a professional relationship. ‘Good, great. Pleased to hear that. See you later.’ Turning, I swept into my office and was soon immersed in the sales data I was analysing. Forgetting about Tony and any fears I had that we were being too familiar.
But two weeks later he started ‘accidentally’ brushing against me in the outer office where he sat, as well as making mildly suggestive comments. I said nothing initially. I’d look stupid and paranoid if I raised it with him and had misunderstood what was going on.
I’d always thought there was nothing wrong with office romances if everyone was happy and they were handled sensitively, but they’ve never been for me. Especially with a junior member of staff, who’d be in an unfair position if things went wrong, given the imbalance of power. So the company’s anti-workplace relationship policy suited me fine. It was a moot point anyway. I didn’t find Tony attractive and there was something about him I was starting to dislike. So I gave him subtle ‘back off’ signals, hoping he’d get bored and leave me alone but it only increased his determination. One day he cornered me in the file run.
‘Fancy dinner with me tonight, Charlotte? Just the two of us.’
My back was to him as I flicked through confidential files in a cabinet, so he didn’t see the face I pulled or the deep silent breath I took to control my annoyance. By then there was a niggle about the potentially patronising way he spoke to female staff, but none of them had come to me and there wasn’t enough evidence to raise it with him.
Shutting the drawer slowly, I turned around. ‘Thank you for the offer, Tony, but it’s not a good idea. I’m your line manager and would prefer to keep this professional. Our contracts also make clear relationships between colleagues aren’t allowed.’ I forced away the urge to demand he call me Miss Wright. I didn’t ask any other team members to and didn’t want him to feel I was singling him out.
‘Right. I see. Sorry.’ He smiled tightly.
‘That’s fine.’ I nodded. ‘So, if you don’t mind?’ I waved a file in the air.
‘Don’t let me stop you.’
The way he looked me up and down made me edgy. Was he intending to make me squeeze past him? ‘Would you mind moving please?’
‘Sorry. Of course.’ He stepped back to let me pass.
Striding out, I chanced a look over my shoulder. He was staring after me, grey suit rumpled and pale-pink tie askew. The whole incident was another odd one, but hopefully he’d got the message.
The next day when I came in for the evening shift, he was sitting on the edge of my desk.
‘Evening, Tony. Can I help?’ Claiming my chair, I gestured him to take a seat opposite.
‘I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday,’ he acknowledged, ‘and we can remove the problem.’ He paused, gave a smirk. ‘If you weren’t my boss we wouldn’t have a conflict in dating.’
My lower jaw momentarily dropped but I calmed myself, switching on my computer. ‘Sorry, what are you suggesting?’
‘If working together is a problem, we could change that.’
‘How exactly?’
Shrugging, he stretched his arms above his head as if totally relaxed. ‘Maybe if you worked at another casino?’
I stared at him in disbelief, wanting to wind his arms round his neck and throttle him with them. Anger sent tingles along my skin. I couldn’t comprehend what he’d said. Inappropriate didn’t begin to cover it. It was so bloody arrogant. I should give up a job earned through hard work just to have the opportunity to sleep with him? What alternate reality was he lodged in?
Going into hyper-formal mode, I straightened in my seat, squaring my shoulders. ‘I’m surprised at the suggestion, Tony. I’m very happy here and have no desire to transfer. And I have no desire for us to be involved. If you’re going to stay you’ll need to respect that. Can you work as my assistant on those grounds?’
‘Sure.’ He tried to look indifferent but a muscle ticked at the corner of his mouth. ‘It was just a thought. And after the way we talked, and you smiled at me—’
‘I was being polite.’ But guilt nagged at me. Had I encouraged him? Been too friendly?
‘It was just a thought, as I said,’ he reiterated stiffly.
‘Good. Then I think we should regard the topic as closed.’
‘Good,’ he repeated. ‘Everything you need is waiting in your in-tray. Goodnight.’ Standing abruptly, he stalked out.
After he left, I was unnerved enough to rush through the door onto the casino floor for a walk around. I needed to be around people, try and forget I’d just been propositioned by my assistant.
After sleeping on it, I hoped for the best and that he’d have abandoned his weird ideas. I was conducting staff appraisals for front-of-house staff the following morning so didn’t see him until lunchtime. There was no mention of the previous night’s conversation and I didn’t get an apology, but for a while it was better. The invasion of my space stopped and so did the inappropriate comments.
Then one evening I was working on a head-office project on rolling out succession planning across the London region. Tony had stayed on to pull data off the system, but was tense, motions jerky, not making direct eye contact.
‘Tony, we’re all right aren’t we?’ I asked, pouring us coffee. We were at the meeting table in my office, papers spread out around us, other staff either down on the casino floor or in the security or cash offices.
‘What do you mean?’ He looked over, frowning.
‘Our conversation the other week—’
‘Sure,’ he shrugged but his expression had gone hard, the planes of his face standing out starkly. There was a gleam in his eye which made me uncomfortable.
‘I just thought … you don’t have to be embarrassed. We can—’
‘Forget it,’ he ground. Holding the milk jug up: ‘White or black tonight?’
‘Black, thanks.’ I stared at him but he ignored me, hypnotically stirring sugar into his coffee. He was upset, so trying to pursue the conversation would obviously fall on deaf ears. I let it go, thinking he was having an off day.
‘Has your brother got married yet?’ I prodded, to change the subject.
‘Yes. Big wedding last weekend. He’s all settled with his perfect blonde princess and Mercedes and new partnership at his law firm now.’
The bitter tone and twisted expression told me more than the words did how competitive the sibling rivalry was. ‘Ok–ay.’ Clearing my throat, I turned a printed spreadsheet over. ‘Shall we look at this one now then?’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, yanking it towards him.
I remember thinking: He’ll get over whatever he thought might be happening between us. He’s got other things going on.
Then odd things started happening.
Staff meetings mysteriously moved so I’d miss them, appointments were changed in the shared diary so I didn’t know when corporate clients would be arriving, making me look and feel hopelessly inept. Deadlines were altered, making me prioritise work in the wrong order and have to ask for extensions or face the embarrassment of sending it in late. I started keeping a paper diary so I could track deadlines accurately, make sure I wasn’t going mad. If I was out of the office, Tony would get everyone looking for me as if I’d gone AWOL, and would apologise quietly after the fact, saying he hadn’t seen the external appointments in my diary. When I asked what was going