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‘Let’s get one thing straight,’ he said, moving across to her desk and propping himself on it with his hands. ‘If I hadn’t thought that you could do the job I wouldn’t have hired you.’
‘Sure,’ Francesca muttered under her breath, and he gripped her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look at him.
‘I can’t stand people who feel sorry for themselves,’ he grated, and she met his eyes with an angry glare.
‘Since you can’t stand me anyway,’ she said, ‘I don’t think any further criticisms of my character will have any effect.’
He shook his head and looked as if he could willingly have slapped her, but instead he stood up and strode into his office, slamming the door behind him.
By the time Friday rolled around Francesca’s nerves were jangling from the silently aggressive atmosphere between them.
Her work was as efficient as ever, but her body tensed the minute he came near her, and there was a tension in him too that didn’t help matters. She still hadn’t told him that she was moving house, and she delayed that until she was ready to leave on the Friday evening, when she said coolly, not looking at him, ‘I don’t know whether I mentioned this to you or not, but I’ve decided to leave home.’
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