We straighten up, and he smooths my hair down with his hands before leading me out. The red-faced woman on the other side of the door gives me a look that tells me she heard every second of that. I bite my lip, shrinking into Travis a little.
“Haylee,” he says, pausing. “This is Violet. She is my new PA. Can you show her to Janice’s old office and give her a rundown on the system while I am in this meeting?”
“Yes, sure.”
“Won’t be long,” he winks at me and walks away.
When he disappears, I let out a breath. Haylee guides me down the hall to my office—floor-to-ceiling windows, mahogany desk, potted palms. Holy shit. I sink into the leather chair, ready to conquer, and watch as Haylee shows me the basics, telling me she is right next door if I need anything. For today, I just want to sort through the files and mail Travis asked, so I go and gather it all, bringing it back.
I do the files first, sorting them into alphabetical order and then going and putting them into Travis’s filing cabinet. Then, I move on to the fan mail. My god, this man has some letters.I didn’t even know fan mail was still a thing, but here we are. I dump the overflowing bag on my desk and sift through the letters. All of them claim their undying love, occasional ones about a sick family member, and a few nasty ones.
God.
Then, I come across one that makes me immediately uneasy. Written on cream paper, a simple one-line note.Travis, why is she back? I warned you—get rid of her, or I will.
My fingers tremble and I flip over the envelope. No return address, just a name. TravsAngel. God. Who the fuck is TravsAngel? Is that some kind of screen name? I tuck the note in my pocket and slip out. Janice is lingering by Haylee’s office, the two of them whispering about something.
“Where’s Trav?” I ask.
“Mr. Phoenix is busy.”
“I am aware of that, but it’s important. Where is he?”
“As I said, he is busy, so, just like the rest of us, you will have to wait.”
Her tone is pissing me off.
Before I can snap back, Travis rounds the corner, his eyes narrowed like he just heard her speaking. “Janice, why is reception unattended?”
She gives me a sugar-sweet smile and leaves.
“What’s up?” he asks, eyes narrowing when he sees my expression.
I pull the note free. His face doesn’t even twitch as he reads.
“Just fan mail,” he says casually.
“Those are some passionate fans,” I mumble. “They’re talking about me.”
“Hate to break it to you, kid, but it’s not the first time I have gotten a letter about you. Believe it or not, it is normal.”
I bite my lip, trying to trust what he is saying, but something feels incredibly uneasy about the whole thing.
I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I don’t like it.
Not one bit.
