“There were people around. We talked about that,” Tessa said, sinking gingerly into the leather armchair on her side of the desk. The word armchair sounded too comfortable. It was that sort of shape, but it was stuffed to the point that it was hard and uncomfortable, with strangely sharp edges.
“You work for me.”
“Do you want people to know you exist?”
Stan shot her a look. It was those eyes that sent a shiver running deep through her, down to her soul. Well…something deep inside anyway. They were huge and black, not dark brown, actually black, so that you couldn’t see where the pupil ended and the iris began. It was like looking into deep pits, you could just sense that they’d be able to swallow you up.
“I mean it,” Tessa persisted, trying not to show weakness. “You remember how much trouble it caused when you zapped me away from the dinner table on Christmas Day?”
Stan flinched. “Um, hello? You work for me. We don’t recognise Christmas as a holiday.”