Page 22 of Wicked Fortune

Lila Blackstone crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the now-open door frame. She wore her long, blonde hair up in the style he’d once told her was his favorite. She had cheekbones that could cut glass and green eyes hidden beneath naturally long lashes. She wore a pale pink shift-style dress that he’d seen before. Sleeveless and form fitting, it hugged her hips and waist and breasts in a way that accentuated her Marilyn Monroe-esque curves.

Her makeup was, as usual, perfect. And as he had so many times before, he marveled at her skill in putting herself together so quickly in the morning, taking about a quarter of the time most other women he knew took. In the past, he’d considered that talent of hers a bonus. Today, it was irritating as hell.

With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to stave off a headache. “We’ve talked about this, Li. You’re my receptionist. Not my Personal Assistant. I only need you here during your regular working hours. And in case you’re confused, the day starts at nine. Embrace it.”

She started to speak, but he held up a hand. He saw a hint of irritation flare in her eyes, but he pressed on. “You have two choices. One, stay on my desk, take my calls, usher my appointments into my office, cash your paycheck, and remain my friend. Two, get the hell out of here. I’ll soften the blow with a hefty severance package if you choose Door Number Two. We’ve talked about this before. Hell, the only reason you’re even on my desk is because I didn’t want you out of work in a shit economy. So make your choice. I won’t discuss it again.”

She held her hands up in surrender. “Bitchy much? I come in early, and I get chewed out about a job I’m not even applying for?” She softened the words with a smile that was obviously forced.

He winced. The damn headache was still building, and he really didn’t need this right now. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep much, and I have a full day of interviews to look forward to.” He hoped that wasn’t the case. Aria Parker was on his calendar as the third appointment of the day. If she came to his office with a signed contract, that would clear his calendar.

With that bit of hope brightening his morning, he offered Lila a smile. “I apologize for snapping.”

The way her face brightened was like a time machine, taking him back to those days when they could practically read each other’s minds. “Apology accepted. I think we know each other well enough that we can drop the boss/employee routine. Especially before seven a.m.”

“True.”

“Besides,” she added, with a familiar smirk. “I know where all the bodies are buried.”

He shook his head, half-amused, half-annoyed as he pointed to the door. “Go. Call maintenance and the janitor and get this mess cleaned up. Then bring me a coffee.”

“Of course. And I’ll bring the applicant files. There are eight today. I’ve summarized the pros and cons for each. Since you insist on not letting me undertake the work, I thought the least I could do was help you hire someone competent in the job. You’ll find the analysis in the HR folder under today’s date. Or would you rather I print them?”

“Aria Parker’s the third appointment?”

“That’s correct.”

“Fine. Bring me the files for the first three applicants. I’ve already offered the job to Ms. Parker. When she accepts at her interview, you can call and cancel the rest.”

“Oh. I see.” She tapped her lower lip, something she did when annoyed. He’d seen it often in their years together. “Ms. Parker wasn’t at the top of my list. I hate to think that we have a different vision as to what you need in the way of assistance.”

He rubbed his temples, the fire going out of him. “Lila.”

She moved one step closer. “Matthew.”

He felt the tightness in his lower back. God, he was an asshole. “You know how much I rely on you. So thank you. Really. That will be all.”

She looked at him, and he remembered how he once thought the gleam in those pale green eyes was a kind of sweet mischief and joie de vivre. He knew better now. Knew himself better, too.

Most of all, he knew he was a man who had a long road of atonement ahead of him.

NINE

I’ve lived in Burbank for a while now, and I’ve passed the ornate gate that marks the entrance to the Hardline Entertainment complex more times than I can count. But this is the first time I’ve made the left turn from Victory Boulevard onto Hardline’s private drive.

Honestly, it’s kind of exciting. And not just because I’m coming to see Matthew Holt.

I stop at the gate, show my ID, then follow the guard’s directions to the guest parking area, getting more and more intimidated the deeper into the complex I drive. From my usual vantage point on Victory, I’d never realized how big the place is, much less how many buildings cover the acreage. I pass sound stages, workshops, actors in period costumes, a faux neighborhood, and even a pen of live pigs before I finally make the right turn into the tower’s guest parking area.

I keep Harry the Honda running while I check my make-up, then use a hint of powder to get rid of some shine … and a dab of lip gloss to add a bit.

I pat the steering wheel. “You’ll be safe here. Nobody’s repossessing you while you’re on this lot.” And since I’m about to walk through those doors with my signed contract, I’ve got the money coming in to keep the loan thugs at bay. All for the price of my soul. Or, more accurately, my innocence.

Except that I’m not innocent at all. So, hey, score one for me.

I close my eyes and take a breath, annoyed by my flighty thoughts. I’m nervous, of course, and it’s making me a spazz.

But I really can’t be a spazz in front of Holt.