“Jason, you’re a miracle worker!” Clara says, clasping her hands.
“I am,” he agrees with a smirk. “And now we just have to hope that the big boss appreciates all our hard work.”
“We’re about to find out,” Tandy says, peering up at the sky. The Emerson jet glints in the sunshine. Barrett’s Aston Martin has been parked at the side of the landing strip as per his instructions, and he’s going to be here in a matter of minutes.
While Clara grabs a broom to sweep away the trail of mud Jason left, I race inside to hide the mop and bucket. When I return, Barrett’s housekeeper is still sweeping away the last of the debris and it’s the first thing our boss notices when he gets out of his sports car. Clara bears the brunt of his scowl.
“Let Tandy finish that,” he says. “I’d like to speak to you and Quinn.”
Barrett doesn’t bother looking at me. Nor does he notice the flowerbeds as he sweeps into the house. Clara and I follow.
“Do I have a desk yet?” he asks.
“Not yet, no,” I say. “But the decorators have finished the ground floor rooms, and your interior designer has all the furniture on order.” I glance at Clara who Barrett tasked with making all the final decisions on décor.
“I can go through the detail with you, if you’d like,” she offers.
He stops and turns. “I trust your judgement, Clara,” he says. To me, he adds, “Where do you propose we have our meeting since I don’t have a desk?”
He says it like I’d arranged the damn visit. My high opinion of Barrett has been sinking by the day, and for Reid to suggest I’m fucking my boss has only stoked my irritation. Twenty-six-year-old Barrett is an entitled prick. So is Reid judging by last night. And there’s only one of the two I’d want to…
No. My mind was not supposed to go there. The correct answer to that question should be that I wouldn’t want to sleep with either of them.
“I still have the temporary furniture in my office,” I suggest.
“That’ll have to do then. I’ll speak to you first,” he says. “Clara, could you give us fifteen minutes? And if you have time, I’d appreciate a coffee.”
“I could make you a light lunch?”
“Coffee’s fine,” he tells her. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
Barrett doesn’t speak again until he’s sitting behind my desk. The flatpack furniture is flimsy, and my boss looksincongruous in his custom-made suit as he rests his elbows on the teak-colored fiberboard.
Pulling up one of the two visitors chairs, I’m curious to know why he’s still scowling. He doesn’t keep me waiting.
“Care to explain why you assaulted Reid Griffin yesterday in what looked like an unprovoked attack?”
My cheeks scorch. It hadn’t crossed my mind that Barrett would have heard so soon. He doesn’t have that many connections with the town. Which means the news probably came from the Russians. It figures that they’d be tuning in to town gossip.
“It was hardly unprovoked. He’d already assaulted me in your office next door,” I remind him.
Barrett huffs out a breath. “I’m not saying it wasn’t deserved, Quinn. In fact, you have my blessing to put any of the Griffins in their place, but public perception is everything, especially in a small town. Especially inthistown,” he explains. “You’re an Emerson employee, and as such you must appear to be a law-abiding citizen.”
I chew the inside of my cheek as I unpick Barrett’s words. The more I know about my new boss, the more inclined I am to believe what Reid told me about him. Barrett couldn’t be further removed from the shiny persona I’d read about online. He wants toappearlaw-abiding, just like he wants toappearlike he’s a good person. That’s the sum total of his moral code.
“I apologize,” I say. “Reid was trailing me, and I reacted on impulse. I didn’t think how it would reflect on you.”
Barrett pinches the bridge of his nose. “Tell me what he said.”
I consider my next words carefully. I don’t just want Barrett to trust me. I need him to confide in me.
“He tried to convince me that he and his brothersare some latter-day heroes. They presume I don’t know they were responsible for the factory fire, and they’re trying to get me to help them. Reid has asked me to keep him informed about Ilya’s arrival,” I say, opening up the conversation to the only topic I want to discuss. “And to be clear, he did most of the talking when we spoke. I would never tell him anything about your private business.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Your future here depends on my ability to trust you,” he says. “You’ve done a decent enough job so far, but if you’re to stay, I need someone who can blend into the background. I’ve promised Ilya that we’ll keep out of his way if he keeps out of ours.” He wrinkles his nose as if the deal he made has left a bitter taste in his mouth. I hope it has. “You’re to be my buffer, Quinn. I don’t want to be dealing with Ilya directly. The less I’m associated with him, the better it is for all of us.”
“I can do that.”
Barrett’s eyes rake over my body, his gaze lingering on the hem of my skirt and my exposed thighs. “I did think twice about hiring a woman for this role. You should know that Ilya likes his women, but I expect the utmost professionalism from you. He can find his own whores.”
