Ever Unknown by Charlotte Stein Page A

employee—the sort of employee who always did things right. He deserved to know that, because he was obviously the type of men who appreciated someone who did things by the book, and that was rare in this day and age.
    So she typed…
     
    Dear E.U.,
    I promise, in future, to always do what I’m supposed to.
    Sincerely,
    Molly Hunt
     
    Which had almost no rude connotations. She was sure it didn’t. If anything, on reflection, it sounded a little sarcastic or snide, as though she thought he was being petty and wanted to stick it to him. The idea made her panic, slightly, and want to write another email to say she hadn’t meant the first—it had come out all wrong, and she’d actually found his initial message really polite and diligent in a way the men in the office usually weren’t, and how it was nice to hear from someone so…delicious.
    Or not delicious, exactly. Some other word that didn’t sound as if she got turned on by filing.
    She wasn’t surprised to find that she then fretted about the whole thing, all day. Fretting was her usual state, and said state continued all through lunch and the meeting about sales targets, right up until five-thirty, by which time he still hadn’t replied. Of course he hadn’t! He probably enjoyed her fretting, which was why he’d used the odd word in the first place.
    Or at least she kind of thought so, until an email appeared—just as she was putting on her coat. Only by that point, all the thinking about it and wondering made that little bolded subject line too big. Too big, and possibly angry looking. The whole thing had swelled to something too important in her mind, and opening it while sweaty-palmed and vaguely excited would only give credence to the hold it had over her.
    So she clicked casually. Not really interested in the contents. Why, she couldn’t have cared less—the buttons on her coat were far more intriguing.
    Until she read the damned thing, naturally.
     
    Dear Molly,
    Stop worrying. I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you. You know, I think you worry a little too much. I expect you to stop, immediately.
    Sincerely,
    E.U.
     
    She attempted not to answer immediately. She attempted to, but failed, miserably.
     
    Dear E.U.,
    And if I don’t?
    Molly
     
    This time he emailed back almost straight away, any pretence at patience gone. She wondered again if he’d dangled that word, that single little word— deliciously —as some sort of bait. Just waiting for her to catch it and respond in a very particular sort of way. She wasn’t sure if this was anything like the sort of way he’d imagined, but his next reply seemed to suggest it got close.
    There wasn’t even a, “dear Molly.” It just plunged right into the subtext that had probably been there all along.
     
    I don’t know. “I’ll punish you,” sounds so clichéd.
     
    She found her breath stopped, and didn’t know why. It wasn’t as though he was promising to punish her, or even that she’d like something so patently ridiculous. When had she ever got excited over the idea of a man punishing her?
    Never. And she especially refused to when the man was anonymous, and clearly spying on her. He couldn’t have found out about her fretting any other way, after all. Obviously, he had to be watching her over the top of his cubicle, or lurking by the vending machines in order to catch her wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt.
    She mentally ticked off the potential men who could have seen her, during the day—that idiot from human resources, or the assistant manager, Gregson . Bullish and frankly gorgeous Walsh, from sales—it couldn’t possibly be him. Benjamin somebody who did something in IT and finally—her boss. Her boss, Mr. Davidson, who was almost as bullish as Walsh, and who seemed to absolutely love giving out orders.
    Because that was probably the criteria, wasn’t it? This guy obviously enjoyed…telling people what to do. Maybe he even thought she was really into that, and