“Am I early?” I ask, confused as to why I’m staring at a man who clearly isn’t ready for work.
“No, you’re right on time.”
“Then, you’re late?”
He laughs. The sound is alarmingly and annoyingly alluring. “No. I’m also right on time. Have a seat, Miss Riley.”
Okay. So he’s a casual boss. Clearly. His desk is unorganized, and papers litter every unoccupied space. An empty coffee mug sits next to his keyboard, while a steaming cup sits on the other side. He has a pile of dirty laundry pushed into a corner of his office, and reusable water bottles are scattered around the room.
“I think you need a cleaner, not an assistant,” I comment before I can stop myself.
He laughs again. “Perhaps you can find a good one for me, Miss Riley? But I bet you don’t know any. Let me guess, you’re annoyingly organized and neat?” His eyes sweep over my body. I’m wearing a clean, pressed black suit with a modest, white shirt underneath. His gaze drifts to my red heels and holds before traveling back up.
I eye him, wanting to give him a piece of my mind. Instead, I reply sweetly, “I like order, Mr. Mills. I’d be happy to find someone to clean your office if that’s what you want, but if not, I’m glad to do it.”
His smile grows wider. For unknown reasons, he seems to be finding this whole situation amusing, while it’s only making me feel more uncomfortable. I’ve never felt so far off my game before. I try to convince myself it’s because of my impending trial and not the man in front of me.
“No need to find me a cleaner, Miss Riley, and it's not in your job description.”
I almost roll my eyes as he walks around his desk and falls into his chair, motioning for me to do the same.
“This trial run will only be a week, Miss Riley, but I doubt it will take me that long to decide.” He pauses and keeps his stare on me, but I keep my face neutral. He continues, “I have a few charity galas coming up that are poorly planned since my last assistant retired. I want you to start by vetting the current venues and event planners and ensuring they are up to the standard of our previous galas.”
I nod.
“The list is on the desk over there.” He points to a small desk opposite his gym. It’s next to a small bar that looks like it’s been used far too many times. Dirty glasses litter the small counter, and the alcohol bottles that decorate the shelves are almost empty.
I return my gaze to find him watching me far too intently.
“I’ll get started,” I say, wanting to put some distance between us but not understanding why. I’ve dealt with men far worse than him. Why am I feeling so flustered?
I hear him pushing papers around his desk and then the clicking of keys as he gets to work.
Looking down, I focus on my task, wondering how I’m going to find the evidence I need to convict him if all I’m doing is planning fancy parties for rich people. I try to remind myself what I’m best at: getting close to notoriously difficult people.
I glance at Mr. Mills as he answers a phone call, surprised by the easy way he speaks. He’s all charm, and I wonder if it's genuine or part of an act to keep people from thinking he’s a murderer.
“Do you need something from me,Miss Riley?”
My eyes widen when I realize I’ve been staring. “No, Mr. Mills, I was just thinking.”
An amused grin lifts his lips. “About?”
Luckily, I’m much more intelligent than the last ten minutes would suggest. “Instead of multiple galas, which I’m sure you’re tired of, why not make it a combined event in a larger venue? Fewer logistics, less time, and combining patrons and your different charities might be a good thing. Might lead to more connections and bigger money.” Not to mention, it’d make this task easier for me.
Mr. Mills cocks his head to the side. “If you can pull it off, Miss Riley, by all means.”
I smile. “Nora. Please call me Nora.”
He smirks back. “Only if you call me Owen.”
I sigh, giving in. “Fine, Owen, I’ll put together the logistics and run it by you.”
He winks. “Deal.”
We spend the next couple of hours both lost in our respective tasks. Combining events proves to be less complicated than I expected. His charities are all nonprofit organizations, focusing on either regenerative agriculture education, urban agriculture education, or organizations involved in converting monocropped farms into regenerative ones. They all have a common theme. He has a few small charities, though, that don’t have a clear mission or name and only deal in small amounts of money. Those catch my eye, and I search for more specifics.
The more I research the charities, the more frustrated I become. There appears to be no red flags or suspicious activity. There are no connections between the acquired companies and the murdered CEOs and any of the charities. Perhaps money is involved, but that’s not obvious. Just because funds are transferred to these charities, it doesn’t mean there’s any wrongdoing.
