Page 85 of Shark’s Pride

“All the more reason to make sure they never suspect a thing.”

Two quick raps on the door ended our conversation. A second later, Terryn stuck her head in. While she’d outwardly returned to the realm of demure respect, her gaze still gleamed like a character from American Horror Story.

“Now if I could just figure out what to do about this little nutcase,” I commented solely for Grant’s ears. A second later, I was lifting my head with professional command. “Jacob Cole. How are you?”

I offered a hand as the young architect came in the door. He had blueprints tucked under each arm and a leather briefcase slung over one shoulder. We shook hands in greeting, and when Terryn hung in the doorway, I gave her a quick scowl so she would leave. I turned to introduce Jacob to Grant, but they were already shaking hands.

“You must be Grant Twombley?” Cole asked.

“Yes.” Grant narrowed his gaze, obviously curious. “Have we met?”

“Not formally,” Jacob explained. “I did some research on the company when I was bidding the job, so I recognize you from the website.”

“Hmm.” My friend rubbed his chin in thought. “And you’re sure we haven’t met somewhere else? You look very familiar.”

“Maybe I just have one of those faces.”

“Can I take something from you? You look like a pack mule.”

“Thanks,” Cole replied as Grant flashed his congenial grin and pulled out the blueprints. As we completed the stroll to the conference table, he and Grant continued to chat.

“Damn,” Grant said. “I guess you do have one of those faces.”

“Or maybe it’s just something in the air today.” Jake thumbed over his shoulder toward the outer office. “Your assistant just grilled me for five minutes, insisting the same thing.”

I clenched my teeth but did my very best to keep my voice level while asking, “What was that about my assistant?”

“She kept insisting I looked familiar,” Jacob answered. “And that we must know one another from somewhere. I tried explaining that I studied abroad in college and didn’t grow up in LA. She’s a little odd, that one.” He laughed. “I mean, no offense. I’m sure she’s awesome at her job. Otherwise you wouldn’t keep her around.”

“Yeah.” Grant sighed. His wistfulness was as sincere as a hooker at confession. “She’s a real gem, our Terryn.”

But his humor was no help. The literal straw had just broken the camel’s back and, with it, my patience. “Siri, page Terryn.”

“Do you mean fucking Terryn?” the computerized voice replied.

Grant burst out laughing. I sent an apologetic glance Cole’s way.

“Yes,” I answered, rubbing the aching furrow in my brow. Jesus Christ, this woman was going to drive me to the 5150 ward—likely right on her heels.

“Yes, Mr. Shark?”

“Call the HR director and set up a meeting in our first mutually available slot, please,” I instructed.

“Can I tell her what it’s regarding?” Terryn asked, and the pain pounded harder at my forehead. Was she being nosy, or was that a reasonable question? And why the hell was her odd behavior causing me to question my perception of everyday matters?

I was seriously pissed now.

“It’s an employee situation,” I bit out. “I can’t give more detail on an unsecured line, so that will have to be enough. If Wendy asks, tell her she can call my direct line.”

“Will do. I will add it to your calendar and send you a notification.”

“Great.”

As I ended the call, Grant caught my gaze with his. I shook my head with subtle inference. I definitely didn’t want to discuss my assistant in further detail in front of our guest.

“Sorry about that, gentlemen.” I forced a smile while giving the architect my full attention. “So, Jake. Ready to show me the changes you came up with since we last met?”

“Yes,” he replied. “But first, I wanted to share some great news.”