If Holly was home, I’d ask her for a ride, but Friday evenings, she and her colleagues from the courthouse get together for happy hour. She’d ditch them to pick me up if I asked, but I wouldn’t do that to her. She skipped last week because Jordan was in town, and I know she enjoys it.
I close out of the browser. Nothing I can do about it now. If it’s really bad, I can always call an Uber. I just hate to pay money to go the short distance from the Financial District to my apartment.
Rui clears his throat, and when he speaks, it sounds like he is trying to come across more casual than he actually feels.
“Erica, I need you to take the Milcom Brewing Company financial report down to Mr. Edgerton’s office. It needs his signature before Ican update the records.” He holds out a paperclipped packet with a sticky note on the front that says “Satan’s signoff.”
She pops her brow, accompanied by a pointed glare. “Nice try. No way.”
Rui’s shoulders sink. His face looks desperate. “Please. You just need to ask him to sign it.”
“You should probably take the sticky note off, no?” I suggest.
His eyes widen when he sees the note is still on the packet. He balls it up quickly and tosses it in the trash. “Thanks,” he mouths.
“Not happening, boss. That’s why they pay you the big bucks,” Erica says, shooting finger guns at him.
I listen to their exchange for a few minutes. Rui tries to negotiate with Erica to bring the paperwork to Damian in exchange for everything from extended lunch breaks to dry-cleaning pickup.
“I can bring it down to him,” I offer.
Both heads turn to me like they forgot I was here. Rui’s eyes brighten for a fraction of a second before Erica speaks up.
“Don’t you dare.” She points to Rui. I love how comfortable they are with each other. Rui is her direct supervisor, but neither of them acts like it. She turns back to me. “Satan’s been in a mood all week. He made Tina cry earlier. You don’t want to get on his radar right now. Trust me.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the offer, Bri. But I’ll do it,” Rui says. He lets out a bone-weary sigh and drops his head in defeat.
I grab the packet from his hand. It isn’t like Damian is going to fire someone just for asking for a signature. I don’t think.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to,” he says, but I can see the relief on his face, hear it in his voice.
“I’ve got it.” I pull my lips into a smile.
Nerves flutter in my belly as I head over to Damian’s office. We haven’t talked about the dinner last weekend, or the upcoming retreat, since we parted on Saturday. The expression on his face when he felt like the conversation with Leon was going well, that one little wink, floats through my mind. But then it is quickly replaced with the look of contempt he leveled my way in his car on the way home, and my nerves ratchet up another notch.
Before I get to his closed door, his assistant, Louisa, stops me.
“You don’t want to go in there. He’s been a bear all week,” she says.
I like Louisa. She has a faint Southern accent that can be real deceiving. She sounds like a Southern belle, when in reality, she has a bit of an edge to her. Which is probably how she manages to put up with Damian every day.
“I’ll risk it. Thanks though.”
I knock hard on his door, and I’m greeted with a stern “What?”
I open the door and step into Damian’s office. His eyes widen slightly at my entrance, but otherwise, he’s entirely neutral.
“I assume that means come in,” I say. I hear Louisa suck in a breath, a stifled laugh on her lips. “Do you have a second?” I ask. He looks like sin sitting behind his desk, his suit jacket open, the white dress shirt stretched across his chest as he leans back in his chair. But it’s the intense look in his eyes that sends a kick to my heart.
“Come in.” He gestures for me to close the door. “Take a seat. I need to talk to you,” he says, dipping his chin in an invitation to take the chair in front of his desk, but I choose to stand instead.
“I just need a signature on a couple of files.” I stand tall, keeping a polite mask of professionalism in place.
“Sit.” His voice is a command, and despite my best efforts, I sink into the chair like my body can’t help but obey him. I shift my shoulders, squaring myself for whatever is about to happen.
I knew I should never have agreed to that stupid dinner. He assured me that my job was secure, but now that he’s had a week to brood over it, I can see that he hasn’t had any great change of heart regarding my part in it.
I place the file on his desk. “Just your signature, please.”
