She was wearing a chic navy-blue skirt that ended just above her knee, a red silk blouse, and had a fresh coat of makeup on her face.
“Could you tell reception not to greet me every time I walk into the building?” she said. “It makes me lose my focus.”
She frowned and came to a stop next to me, her eyes taking me in. I should’ve spoken first, but my tongue didn’t seem to work anymore.
Ellie Hunt broke the silence. “No, Desmond doesn’t need his lunch delivered to his desk today. Besides,” Ellie added, “it’s an entire hour past his usual lunchtime. You’re late.”
I gulped. Did she mistake me for Desmond’s assistant?
Perhaps Ellie needed to visit an optometrist.
Saving that tidbit for later, when I could be more confident about her tolerance of me, I spoke. “No, it’s not about lunch.”
She halted and turned. “If legal sent you here to ask him to take down his latest tweet again—wait.”
She paused and looked at me more closely. I felt myself go red. I hadn’t spoken to her at the party, but was there a chance that she had seen me anyway?
Ellie stared at me. “Have I seen you before?”
I heard a second set of footsteps come out of the elevator, and a now-familiar voice said, “Sorry to keep you waiting, Ellie …” The voice trailed off when the person laid eyes on me.
It was Desmond, dressed in a fancier suit than I’d ever seen him in.
His face registered surprise when he saw me outside his door, mirroring a surprise that I felt twenty times more. Going by the way these two had timed their arrival, they were definitely back from a lunch date.
These two were on another date? Was this an apology date for abandoning her at the party?
Neither of us moved. I was too busy being consumed by a heady sensation as Desmond locked eyes with me.
Ellie glanced between Desmond and me. “Do you two know each other?”
Briefly aware that she was speaking to me, I tore my gaze away from Desmond. Unwillingly. It was a bit of a shame really. I could’ve shot him my extremely disapproving look if I’d had a minute longer. I looked dispassionately at the beautiful woman in front of me with her shiny skirt and her sparkling earrings.
“Wait, I know you!” Ellie exclaimed, as neither Desmond nor I had volunteered information. “I’ve seen you on TV, haven’t I? You’re that actress from that sappy CBS soap opera!” she blurted out.
My eyes met Desmond’s briefly, and for a second, we seemed to both be fighting the urge to laugh.
“Thank you. I’m flattered,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face.
“You shouldn’t be. That show has the dumbest women of all time. I mean, who fires the house help without looking for a backup first?”
“You’re right.” I nodded. “I’ll give your feedback to the writing team—” I began, but Desmond cut me off.
“Ellie, Ms. Hale’s a new employee at Luxe Hotels. Do you remember our recent acquisition of a restaurant?”
“The failing one? The Galle?” Ellie completed the sentence and turned to me, wide-eyed.
“The Galley,” I corrected her and bit my tongue. I needed to focus.
“Erm, I came by to ask you something,” I began, keeping my eyes on Desmond while very conscious of the fact that Ellie was still around. “I just learned that the remodeling you planned for the restaurant has been pushed out by five months.”
In the silence after my statement, I could sense Desmond stiffening. He understood where I was going with this.
Ellie showed no bit of recognition. “Remodeling?” she demanded. She turned to Desmond. “Didn’t Luxe Hotels have other plans for that place?”
They did? I gave Desmond a questioning look just as Ellie’s phone rang. She silenced it, keeping her focus on us.
“Zach, my assistant, should be here soon, Ms. Hale,” Desmond said to me, abandoning attempts to converse with Ellie.
