Page 30 of My Favorite Boss

“Um, well…”

“Yes?” I prompted.

“I was wondering if I was really required to go to the awards dinner tomorrow.”

Her question was innocent enough. It was the way her fingers tangled in the lace of her sleeves, pulling on the delicate trim, that caught my eye.

“Required, no,” I mused. “But I thought you were looking forward to it.”

“Oh, um, I thought perhaps someone more important, better, I mean, um, more essential to the firm should go.”

I sat back, tilting my head. “If you don’t want to go, I won’t force you, Myers. But as a member of my office, an important one, I would like you there. It’s a chance for you to see some of the other people in the industry, other key people here, in a different light. We’re up for several awards—you don’t want to cheer your favorite boss on?”

“Oh no, of course. I was just, ah, checking.”

At this point, I wasn’t sure I would ever see that blouse again. Soon, there would be nothing left of the sleeves the way she was tearing at the lace.

“I assure you, I would like you to attend. It would be nice to see a friendly face when they call the name of the award winner and it’s not mine,” I said jokingly.

“You will win!” she said breathlessly, letting her sleeves go. “Your designs are incredible.”

“Then be sure to be there to see it for yourself.”

“Yes. Of course.” She huffed a breath. “Goodnight, Bane.”

She turned and walked out, leaving me puzzled.

Bane. She’d called me that a few times, but I was Mr. Bane earlier. And she always addressed me as such in front of colleagues or other staff members. She was exceedingly professional all the time. She was, in fact, a great assistant.

But why, suddenly, did she not want to attend the awards dinner?

I was going to have to figure out this mystery.

The next day, Myers was quiet but seemed all right. She worked hard all morning on the budgets I gave her. I attended meetings, listened to clients, and was grateful when the final phone call was over.

She entered my office, sliding the budgets on my desk.

“Done?” I asked, not looking up.

“Yes.”

“I assume you’re leaving to get ready for the dinner?” All staff had been told the office was closing at four.

“If that is all right.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Since I was part of the decision to allow it, it is.”

“Good, then. I’ll head out.”

“I’m working tomorrow,” I informed her. “I have a lot of changes to the Duncan design.”

“Oh. Okay.”

She headed for the door, and I called to her. “Myers.”

She turned.

“Try to enjoy the evening. The speeches tend to be a little long, but the food is good, and they offer a surprisingly good red at the bar.”