Chapter fourteen
Remy
I glance at the final candidate.
She’s sharp. More importantly, she doesn’t seem instantly taken with Erik. Both are points in her favor.
Meg Balleton. Pronounced bayetone. She’s younger than I’d hoped, late twenties maybe, and attractive. I’d wanted a take no shit battle axe. None of those applied.
We’re in my office overlooking the cemetery.
“Miss Balleton,” I say, “you’re highly qualified. Your background in ballet and your familiarity with stage environments will be valuable here.”
She doesn’t smile. Just watches me, neutral and alert. She’s dressed conservatively in a pantsuit and flats, practical for marble stairs and quick movement on and offstage.
“I need to say a few things that aren’t technically appropriate,” I continue, “but it will make this easier for everyone.”
Her shoulders ease a fraction. “Direct is more efficient, sir.”
“Call me Remy.” I wave a hand. “My partner Erik is eccentric. He doesn’t do well with people. Women tend to fawn over him. If you do that, he won’t acknowledge you exist. You need to be useful. Efficient. Otherwise he won’t register you at all.”
She purses her lips, thoughtful. “That won’t be an issue. I did my research. I have no interest in him.” She meets my gaze. “When would you like me to start, and what are the most critical tasks?”
Good.
“Doing all the things he should be doing,” I say. “Managing his calendar. Handling sponsors. We’re calling them patrons so they feel important.”
A sharp bark of laughter cuts in from the doorway.
“Careful,” Erik says. “You’re starting to sound like me.”
He steps into the office, eyes flicking over Meg once. No reaction.
“You must be the assistant,” he says, not waiting for confirmation. “Don’t waste my time with nagging or obvious questions. If you can’t make small, intelligent decisions, you won’t last. If you bring me food, no mayonnaise. I despise ketchup. If I’m composing, do not interrupt me.”
With that, he turns back to me, already done with her.
Before he can speak, Meg asserts herself.
“Mr. Leroux, one moment please.”
Erik turns slowly, eyes sliding back to her. He arches a brow.
She takes it as the question it is. “If you’d like to change your passwords before giving me access to your calendar and email, that would be most efficient.”
His eyes narrow. “I do not give out my passwords. If you need access, I will log in and enter them myself.”
She gives him a bland smile. “We can do it that way. And every time a security check logs me out, I’ll come find you so youcan stop what you’re doing, come up to my office, and type it in again.”
She pauses, then adds mildly, “The other option is a generic password that means nothing to you. May I suggest IrritatedProdigal2026.”
Maybe I don’t need a battle axe after all.
Chapter fifteen
Dark Angel
She returned under a different guise.
