Unperfect

Max

I was in a bad mood. Not that this was out of the ordinary. By all accounts I was a moody guy. Grumpy northern arsehole – that was Heath’s favourite way to describe me. But this situation was starting to annoy me. The image of those wide, dark, chocolate-coloured eyes accompanied by that whispered please had been going round and round in my head since I’d interrupted that bloody interview in the conference room.

It was the edge of desperation behind her whispered words that had got to me, and I’d relented on the job.

She was good.

I had to give her that.

She was so ruddy good that she’d sucked in not only Verity, but me as well. Some might think I was a daft bugger, but I did not get suckered, and I did not like to be made to look like a mug. But there was something about her that was so … fragile. In that moment in the conference room she’d reminded me of the hedgehog I’d found as a child behind the hayloft. It had been injured and couldn’t really walk. I’d carried it home, its prickles piercing my hands until blood was running down my arms. Mam had rolled her eyes at yet another stray: the hedgehog was one of a long line of strays I’d rescued on the farm – the most recent being a fox that had been caught in a trap set by me da. Being a sensitive, animal-loving child was not ideal when you lived on a farm and your father would rather drown a litter of kittens than find them new homes. True story. But when it came to the hedgehog, Mam relented after seeing the pain I’d gone through to get the thing home. She helped me contact the RSPCA to see what to feed it and how we should keep it, and had set up a box for it in the airing cupboard. The hedgehog may have become stronger over time, but it did not appreciate my efforts as its rescuer, nor did it think I was anything but a threat. I’d kept it for two weeks and when I let it go it shot off into the undergrowth without a second look.

So, whilst it might be a tad bizarre to compare a grown woman to a hedgehog, that didn’t change the fact that Mia’s eyes, so full of fear and hopelessness, did remind me of that animal. She looked hounded. On that basis I’d shrugged and told Verity fine and to just set it up. But the more I thought about it, the more I started to feel something was off about this girl. Something I couldn’t put my finger on.

Every time her full name was mentioned she looked down and to the left. Why would she lie about her name? And that backpack she had with her … it was tattered and dirty. Not just a bit scuffed, but covered in real dirt. Why would she bring that to an interview with her? After I’d noticed the bag I also noticed that she never lost contact with it. Even in the conference room it was tucked behind her legs, and as she left the building she had been clutching it so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Not. Normal.

And her hair colour. It was so stark. It didn’t match her skin tone at all. The whole emo look screamed teenager. But I’d read her CV and her date of birth told me a different story. She didn’t look a day over sixteen. Was she lying about her age to get the job? There was no denying that Mia was good at IT. That much she did not lie about. But she was absolutely taking us for a ride if she had convinced Verity there was enough tech support work for her to do here. It was a waste of bloody money and I hated it when we wasted money on pointless shite – that was something I did have that in common with me da. Yes I was a tight-arse, but there was no use pissing money away whilst you were trying to keep a business afloat.

Although I had to admit that despite Mia only being here for three days, the new system she’d established did seem to be making my life easier – not that I’d ever admit that to Verity. But now that she’d rearranged the whole system, run all the searches we needed running and analysed all the data that needed sorting, there was precious little IT support work for her to get on with. So, this morning I’d found her sitting behind the reception desk, looking like she was going to vomit and flinching every time the phone rang. Yaz had buggered off to the sea as soon as the wind picked up. Typical of my bloody sister.

And … Mia hadn’t made me any tea.

Yaz might be useless in general, but she made a decent brew and she always saved me the chocolate digestives. The absence of my morning tea and biscuits had put me in the mother of all bad moods – and it was all this skinny, little, lying teenager’s fault. My phone rang and I made a grab for it, needing the distraction.

“What?” I grunted, holding the phone to my ear with one hand as I checked the latest design with the other.

“Nice greeting, you grumpy git,” Heath said in his normal happy tone. Bastard was in a perpetual good mood, which always managed to piss me off more. “Do you want to have lunch today or not? You were going to show me the plans again. I am a client you know.” Heath had bought a small bungalow overlooking the sea that we were converting into a massive house with an entire wall of glass looking out over the clifftop. It was costing him an insane amount, but it was safe to say he weren’t short a bob or two.

I rolled my eyes. “Only if you’re paying. And only if we can go to the Badger and Ferret and not some swank place that serves me hal-fucking-loumi.”

Heath laughed. “Well, you’re on rare form today.’

I sighed. “Look I’m swamped here and t’top it off your sister’s hired some fucking teen emo freak and stuck her on reception. I’ve already had a complaint from a client, and she’s too much of a lazy article to even make me a brew. You know how I get without me tea.”

Something caught my eye in my peripheral vision and I swivelled on my chair to see teen emo freak blinking at me from the doorway.

Ah shite.

“Verity wouldn’t have hired someone dodgy. My sister has many flaws but she’s a scarily accurate judge of character. Ever thought of making your own tea? And maybe even … I don’t know … make one for the new member of staff who’s probably nervous, you massively entitled bastard.” During Heath’s mini rant, Mia scuttled into the room, giving me as wide a berth as possible, and deposited a cup of tea on the very edge of my desk before turning and running out of the door. No woman had ever actually run away from me before. I knew I was rough around the edges, but I’d never scared them into a sprinting retreat.

“Arse,” I muttered. Her wounded expression now lodging into my brain along with those chocolate-brown eyes and that desperate please for the interview.

“So articulate as always,” Heath said.

“Listen, I’m up t’eyeballs today. Let’s make it one o’clock tomorrow, okay? You can come here and meet me seeing as your lazy arse in’t at work where it belongs,” I said.

“My lazy arse has just been on seven straight night shifts you bloody pr–”

I ended the call before Heath could finish, then stared at the plan on my desk for a moment before closing my eyes and rubbing the centre of my chest, which for some reason was feeling too tight. I refused to believe it was because I might have hurt teen emo’s feelings. I shook my head to try to clear it and settled down to the design.

Mia

I stared at myself in the mirror of the bathroom. A small, dark-haired, deathly pale girl with dark circles under her eyes stared back at me.

Teen emo freak.

That was what I looked like. Max Hardcastle might be a complete bastard, but at least he was an honest one. I felt my lips start to tremble as I gripped the sides of the sink, willing the moisture I could feel building behind my eyes back. I hadn’t cried since That Night, and I wasn’t going to start now just because some arrogant twat thought I was nothing. Something to be sneered at. A freak.

“Get it together,” I whispered to myself in the mirror. “You’ve had worse insults chucked at you for years. You can handle this. Horrible men are not a new phenomenon. He can’t hurt you. You’re in control of your life now.”

I sighed and let my head fall forward, closing my eyes. It didn’t feel like I was in control if I was honest. I’d been lucky last night that the shelter had still been taking in people when I made it there. The three-mile walk from the office seemed to take forever. What would I do tonight if there wasn’t space? Verity had asked me to stay until after everyone had left so that I could lock up. She said I’d be paid until seven, and whilst I needed the extra money, I really didn’t want to stay any later than five and jeopardise a space at the shelter. But Verity had been so kind that I didn’t feel like I could turn her down.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and then threw my head back, giving my body a quick shake and telling myself to woman up. Once I was sure no more tears were threatening I pushed open the door and started along the corridor. Feeling stressed about the amount of time I’d spent hiding in the toilet, I glanced down at my watch and picked up my pace until I walked smack into what felt like a solid brick wall. Pain flared up my side. I stumbled back and, just as I thought I was going to go down on my arse, a pair of huge hands shot out and engulfed my upper arms, keeping me on my feet. I froze and looked up and up until my eyes met his blue/green gaze.

Max towered over me and didn’t look any less annoyed than he had been earlier. A muscle was ticking in his jaw and it caused a spike of adrenaline to shoot through my body. To my absolute horror I made an involuntary small noise of fear. A sound I had made many many times before. One I swore I would never make again. I was furious that it had escaped my lips. It was weak and pathetic. I was weak. But that feeling of being trapped in someone else’s grasp had invaded me again, triggering such a violent reaction that I wrenched free of his hands and took a few rapid steps back, searching wildly for a way past him in the narrow corridor which his big body was currently filling.

Max

I blinked as I watched Mia stumble away from me. The girl had torn out of my hands like I was a serial killer. For fuck’s sake I’d stopped her from breaking her arse on the floorboards after she’d careened into me like a bat out of hell. Why was she looking at me like I was the devil incarnate? And that terrible noise she’d made. It’d gone right through me. What did she have to be scared of?

“Hey, you okay?” I asked. If I could have gentled my voice I would have but it was tricky to make my low, gruff tones any softer.

“Fine,” she whispered. I had to strain to hear it, even in the silence of the corridor. She took another step back and I felt myself frowning. The way she was backing away from me felt … wrong. It made my chest feel tight again. “Excuse me,” she whispered again, looking more and more like a trapped animal as she tried to peer around me.

“You should look where you’re going,” I told her, immediately regretting my words and wishing that I could pull them back. A perceived reprimand from me was not going to help this situation but, once again, I had let my quick temper get the better of me. I was pissed off that I was feeling like a monster when she’d been the one to run into me.

“S-s-sorry,” she stuttered and I felt like an utter bastard. Her hands were shaking at her sides, but when she noticed me glancing down at them she balled them into small fists.

I sighed but it came out at more of a huff. Mia flinched then backed up another step. Being smart enough to realise that I wasn’t going to get anywhere with her in this confined space, I stepped to the side, trying to give her as much room as possible. As soon as she saw the opening Mia sprinted past me. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I scowled after her rapidly retreating back. I hadn’t handled that well. I shook my head to clear it. The last thing I needed at the moment was to be worrying over some child-woman. Not when I had to concentrate on winning the biggest contract of my career. I’d wait until she had calmed down and then I’d apologise. And, in the meantime, I would try not to allow that small sound of terror she’d made ruin my concentration for the day, or make my chest feel any tighter.