“Who hurt Emma?” Gris asks.
“The ex,” I say, realizing I have no idea who he is. Which would be a really big help. I need to get Gigi to trust me enough to tell me the truth.
But first, I need to cut all of Vigo’s companies out of my development plan.
Gris shrugs. “Honestly. It’s likely. Men who hit women…” Gris looks away. “If Gigi is just a victim, and not here for other purposes, then her ex must be a real piece of shit.”
I agree with that completely. But there are just too many questions to answer right now.
Which is why I bury myself back into my work. Gigi arrives early, looking sexy as hell in her pencil skirt and silk blouse.
I can’t decide which way I like her best.
At nine we head to the conference room, a nitty-gritty three-hour meeting happening with the legal team.
I’m pissed and they know it.
Gigi stands next to me, taking notes, pointing out inconsistencies, her calm quiet voice keeping the room moving and the meeting productive, where I might have just yelled.
At one point, the other secretary reaches for her phone and sends a text.
I remember her. She had lunch with Gigi on Friday. Gigi’s phone, which sits on the table lights up.
You’re doing amazing!
Women. I can’t imagine one of my brothers ever saying something like that. But it makes me realize, Erika might be another source of information.
I grab my phone, texting Gigi as well:My office for lunch.
Because she did do amazingly well and I’m going to thank her. And hopefully begin softening her up to share more of herself with me.
She doesn’t look at her phone though as we wrap up. “I’m just going to make some copies of the spreadsheet you made,” she says as we exit. “I’ll be back at my desk in five minutes.”
I nod and start down the hall toward my office, turning my own phone off silent.
Almost immediately, it rings, my brother Gris’s name flashing on the screen.
“What?” I ask, stopping in the hall.
“Uh,” he pauses, and I can hear crying in the background. “I don’t have Gigi’s number, but I was at the daycare, and I think she’d better come down.”
And then he hangs up.
I stare at my phone. Only my brother can boss me like that and then hang up without explanation.
But I still turn, heading to the copy room.
Gigi isn’t there, every machine filled with other assistants. “Where is Gigi?” I bite out.
Three startled women turn, one of them sending her pile of papers into the air. They flutter around us, as one of them says… “These were in use.”
They all look at me like I’m a monster about to devour them. “I didn’t ask why she wasn’t here, I asked where she went.”
“Nineteenth?” one of them says.
“Legal, maybe,” another offers.
I let out a frustrated rumble as I pick up my phone, calling her. Which goes straight to voicemail.
