1
FENWICK “WICK” GUIDRY
Maurice’snervous laughter echoed from his office, which was directly outside of mine and allowed him to keep me free of distractions. The odd sound completely derailed my thoughts.
I set my pen down on the yellow legal pad I’d been staring at blankly while trying to decide if I should sign off on pricier stone for a project than I’d originally approved. I’d never heard that type of laugh from Maurice. He was generally quiet and conservative, and when he was amused, his voice had a warmth I appreciated. I stood.Should I go out to see if everything is all right?
The solid wooden door flew open, and Edgar Celestine stood on the far side of Maurice’s glossy black desk, doing who knew what. Before I could ask about the visitor, Maurice rushed in with an armful of paperwork and immediately laid down three binder-clipped stacks on my desk.
He tapped each pile in turn. “These are the contracts that came in today, sir. Two of the companies are in Louisiana, but one is in Mississippi. All three want Émeraude Technologies to work directly with the construction crews to ensure a smooth implementation of the plans that have been accepted. We’ll need a travel budget for the out-of-state project.” He flashed me a brief smile and pushed his black-rimmed glasses up on his nose. His brown eyes sparkled, and for a moment he fidgeted with his blue bow tie, which went with his suspenders. His crisp white shirt was snug over his gently rounded middle. I wasn’t sure at what point he’d abandoned his suit jacket today, but I liked him this way. Getting to see this cuddlier, less perfect version of Maurice each evening was my treat for making it through another day.
“Excellent work, Mr. Baranov. You earned your paycheck.”
He shrugged, and the sheepish grin that took over his face made me smile back. I often tried my best to be professional with Maurice, but there was something about him that made me want to be friendlier than I should, and I worked hard to check that compulsion. My daddy always said you can be cordial with your staff but notfriends; however, it was more difficult than I’d ever thought to act that way, especially with the man who was at my side twelve hours a day or more—sometimes even on weekends.
Maurice shrugged. “All I told them is how much easier it would make everything if we were directly communicating with whatever company they use for the construction. They approved our fees fairly quickly.”
I walked around the desk and leaned against it. Maurice crossed his arms; he was easy to fluster one-on-one but amazing with our clients. “Yes. However, when I say the same thing, it sounds like a sales pitch. You’re damnably sincere, Mr. Baranov.”
Pink spread across his cheeks, and warmth settled into my stomach. I doubted he actually liked me because I was a never-ending pain in his ass—workwise—but it was nice to be able to get under the man’s skin. It made me feel better about life. Hell, he was cute. I leaned closer to him, and Maurice held his breath.
“What was going on in your office?” I murmured, cutting a glance toward the open door, where Celestine poked around on his phone screen near Maurice’s desk. His blond curls were tamed into ringlets, which was unusual for him. He was an attractive younger man. I had the urge to tell him to get back to work, but I didn’t know if he was finished for the day or not, and I tried not to micromanage.
“What do you mean, sir?” Maurice stuffed his hands into his pockets and his shoulders slumped. I wasn’t certain about Celestine—or Maurice, as far as that went. Were they gay? Was I interrupting some flirting? That would make sense. Maurice was sweet and kind and made my entire life work, so surely someone else would notice him.
“Before you rushed in here, you didn’t sound like yourself.”
Maurice stared at me, eyes wide behind his glasses. He shrugged.
I sighed, turning around to grab the first stack of paperwork. “You evaluated this?”
“Yes, sir. Ready for signatures.”
I signed everything and handed the paperwork back to him, one stack at a time, and I dragged it out. Celestine still lingered in my line of sight through the open door.
“Maurice?” I drawled his name while I watched Celestine, and the kid stilled when he glanced up from his phone screen and saw me eyeballing him. He waved at me and shuffled to the right, out of view.
“Yes, sir?”
“Ask Bern Evangelos if he wants to learn how to work in the field, why don’t you? He’s a hard worker who is always in his office when I look for him.” I made sure to raise my voice loud enough that it would carry. “Have Tony Baskin teach him what to do, please.”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely.”
“Oh, and Maurice?” I said, just before he reached the door.
He turned around and held the paperwork in front of him like a shield. “Yes, sir?”
I brushed my hand through my hair. “Can you get me in to see a tailor? You said you knew someone who was better than the man on Cottonwood Avenue? My suits could do with an update. You can pick them out.”
“Uh, yes, sir.” The smile he sent me was megawatt brilliant and exactly what I’d wanted. I had no idea why, but Maurice loved anything to do with clothing, and I was happy to allow him to put together my wardrobe. It was worth it to see his face light up.
He was almost out the door when I called, “Maurice.”
He spun again, and an irritated huff from out in the office made me want to call my assistant all the way back inside, but I refrained. “Yes, sir?”
“Could I bother you to order me a coffee from down the street? The café with the crullers and the beignets? Uh... Posy’s?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
