Mendacious by Beth Ashworth

her face a picture of panic and confusion as she tumbles straight toward me.
    Today’s impossibly high stilettos aren’t doing her any favours, but I don’t have long with that thought before we collide and her coffee splatters down the front of my charcoal three-piece. The force of her impact catches me off guard and sends us toppling to the ground in a hot, coffee coated heap.
    “Shit!” I mutter under my breath when my back connects with the stone flooring and Libby’s weight presses against me. The scolding coffee seeps through the material of my suit, effectively burning me with slow precision. Yet, oddly enough, I’m more concerned about her, but I know I can’t show it. “Get off me,” I snap, pulling my arms free from between our squished bodies.
    “Why? Why? Why?” she groans. Her hands splay against my chest and she pushes herself up to look at my face.
    I won’t lie, despite the far from pleasant sensation of burning flesh, this moment between us feels good. Familiar.
    “Elizabeth!”
    There isn’t a moment for me to think straight before a group of alarmed employees are surrounding us. They each take Libby by an arm and pull her up. They’re busy fussing over her when two more employees appear and help me.
    “Thanks,” I mutter, shrugging off my suit jacket as soon as I’m standing. My fingers move to the buttons on my waistcoat next. The fucking burning is intense; I bet the hairs on my chest are singed to the bloody root.
    “My dress is ruined,” I hear Libby moaning from within a cocoon of employees. “I have no idea what the hell he was playing at!” She angrily carries on and I huff listening to her little temper tantrum while I remove my waistcoat.
    “Grow-up for God’s sake,” I snap aloud without thinking.
    Silence descends.
    “Excuse me?” The cocoon separates, revealing a saturated and angry looking Libby. Her hair is not so perfect anymore and her beige coloured dress sports a deep brown coffee stain across the chest. “You just ruined a four hundred pound dress,” she hisses with a venom filled glare.
    I can’t help but scoff. “And what about my Armani suit you’ve just wrecked? If you were watching where you were going, it wouldn’t have happened.”
    The employees around us scatter when Libby points to her office. “In there. We need to talk.”
    I shake my head. “Who do you think you’re talking to, sweetheart? I’m not one of your employees.”
    “Alex, get in the bloody office.”
    “Libby,” I warn her.
    She sighs, relaxes her shoulders, and adds, “ Please ?”
    There’s the politeness I’m after.
    “Okay,” I agree.
    I let her enter first and close the door behind us. My first point of call is my phone rather than letting her talk. I need to get Kelly to bring another suit because my white shirt is practically see-through at this point—not that Libby’s noticed anyway. She’s too busy being pissed over a stupid dress. A dress that’s worth nowhere near the price she paid.
    “Good morning, Alex,” Kelly chirps.
    “Kelly, I need a suit. Can you send one of the girls over? I’ll need a shirt and tie as well.”
    “Of course. I’ll send someone right now,” she replies, without question. It’s exactly the response I was after.
    “Thanks, Kelly.” I end the call and place my phone on the desk. “Right,” I murmur, turning toward Libby.
    “You’re such an arsehole,” she hurls across the room. Her hands have found their way to her hips and she’s sporting the angriest looking glare in my direction.
    “Look, if you’d been here on time, it wouldn’t have happened. I was only coming out to look for you.”
    “I told Jamie I would be in at ten,” she replies. “I didn’t realise I had to check-in with you as well?”
    “A bit of courtesy wouldn’t hurt. It’s not professional being late,” I say, taking a seat on the edge of my new desk and folding my arms across my chest. My wet shirt isn’t capturing her attention like I