“Is this Andrea Stone?” It was a soft and raspy voice.
“Uh—” I looked at the screen, seeing an unknown number. “Yes. Who is this?”
“Oh my god, great. This is Cindy Falls with theWall Street Journal. I only need five seconds.”
“Mr. Cross’s interview with your paper isn’t for another month,” I said. “Do you need to reschedule?”
“No, no,” she said. “I was hoping that after the interview, I could meet with you for any corrections? They have him listed for that, and…I don’t think that’s going to go well.”
It isn’t… “Sure. Just text me after the interview and we’ll set something up.”
“Thank you!”
I ended the call and slipped out of his front door and to the elevator. I made it all the way to the town car, convinced I wouldn’t see him until later—when his name crossed my screen.
Of course…
“Hello, Mr. Cross,” I answered. “What do you need?”
“Just a simple answer,” he said. “How was your nap?”
“I…” My cheeks heated. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You think I don’t monitor the cameras in my own home, Miss Stone?”
“I’m sure you do, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
“You talk in your sleep,” he said. “Do you know that?”
“I wasn’t sleeping, so I don’t know why we’re discussing this…”
“You said my name an hour ago while you slept.” There was satisfaction in his voice. “You said it quite a few times.”
“I did not.”
“I was disappointed to hear you refer to me as ‘Mr. Cross’ during whatever you were dreaming about, though.” He paused. “You should call meHarrisonwhenever I’m inside you…”
I gasped.
There was nothing I could say to that.
“While we’re on this topic,” he said, “is Andrea what you would prefer for me to call you when that time comes?”
“That time will never come, Mr. Cross,” I said, hating that he’d made my panties wet without even touching me. “I can admit to napping on the clock, though.”
“I’ll get you back for that later,” he said. “Anyway, whenever you get back to headquarters, Aaron and I would like you to meet us in the basement’s mock café.”
“Am I getting fired?”
“Meet us there and see.”
A beep followed, and dread pooled in my stomach with every block that carried me closer to him.
SIXTEEN
ANDREA
Our basement café was a replica of Mr. Lewis’s very first location in his Tennessee hometown. The “windows” were wall-length screens that simulated waves rippling atop a lake.
