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When she’s finished scribbling her notes, she props her chin on her hand and leans in closer. “Tell me, when you say busy...” She emphasizes the word like it’s foreign to her. “What connotation does that mean to you?”

I blink at her, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “I…uh… I guess I just meant that I’ve had a lot going on. I’ve been keeping busy, really trying to apply what we’ve been working on during our sessions,” I say, sounding a little less confident than I’d prefer.

“Uh-huh.” She scribbles another note, and I feel my pulse pick up. Ass cheeks fully clenched, a bead of sweat slowly rolls down the back of my neck.

“Speaking of being busy with your new job...would you say that you’ve felt challenged in any way, or been asked to do anything out of your comfort zone?”

I blow out a breath, relieved for a normal follow-up question. “Oh yes, all of it actually.” I pause to take a sip of my tea, which is now cooled to the perfect drinking temperature. “Everything about my assistant position is challenging. And I’m not sure I’m very good at it.”

My strategically placed vulnerability seems to pique her interest. “How so?”

“Well, if I’m being honest, I’m not very good at attention to detail or note-taking during meetings. I may have also shown up thirty minutes late on my first day…”

I’ll admit it wasn’t my proudest moment, but after further reflection, I’ve concluded that Tilly is entirely to blame.

“Yet they still keep you around?” She interrupts, her voice laced with surprise. “Why do you think that is?”

Dammit, I went too hard with the honesty. Now she thinks I’m using my status to keep this job.

“I guess because I make up for my weaknesses in other ways,” I say, trying to backpedal.

“Can you give me an example of something you’ve done well since you’ve held your position?”

I try to think, but the only things that come to mind are all the mistakes I’ve made over the last few weeks. Accidentally forgetting to blind copy all the recipients in the massive email blast I sent out last week, only for me to have to block upward of fifty direct emails asking him if he had time to grab a cup of coffee so they could “pick his brain.” He was rightfully angry about that one. And then, of course, when we had the lunch meeting with some elderly investors, and afterward when they asked for a picture, I assumed they were talking to me. That was particularly painful, but to his credit, Roman didn’t even tease me about it.

Why hasn’t he teased me?

Once again, I find myself ruminating over our last interaction, trying to figure out where I went wrong. He seemed interested…And then he wasn’t. And he hasn’t been home since he dropped me off.

“Kira?” Marguerite’s voice pulls me out of my rejection rumination.

I glance back up at her. “Sorry. What was that?”

“I asked if there was anything you’ve done well?” she repeats.

“Oh… Well…” My eyes move to the window, where I have a prime view of Roman’s house, and suddenly, I think of something. “I did suggest a product placement advertisement campaign that seemed to be well received,” I say with a shrug. It was just something I pulled out of my ass in the moment, but hey, they seemed to like it. So it worked.

“That’s wonderful,” Marguerite says with an approving nod.

The rush I get seeing her approval spurs me to keep going. “I…also accompanied my coworker to a local theater production last week…and when the lead actress didn’t arrive, I stepped in, so the show wasn’t canceled.”

Marguerite’s whole face seems to light up, and she leans in closer. “How exciting!”

All right, now we’re getting somewhere. If it’s something more scandalous and entertaining she’s looking for, that I can do.

“You would’ve loved it. The performance was quite provocative for a dinner theater. It was inspired by Magic Mike crossed with Pride and Prejudice.” I hold up my hand like I’m telling a secret and lower my voice. “And, I must say, being the recipient of so many lap dances wasn’t exactly a hardship.”

“Now that’s more like it,” she muses.

“I know, right? Crazy enough, the male lead wasn’t able to finish the final act, so my coworker had to step in at the last minute.” I realize I may have gone a little too far, so I quickly add, “But we kept things professional, of course. I was actually supposed to dance for him, but I changed it up on him at the last minute.”

Marguerite studies me for a moment, but then her face breaks into a wide grin. “Now this is what we’ve been missing. How did he respond to that?”

For some reason, I’m surprised. I expected her to go for the obvious question, ask me why I did what I did. But, hey, I’ll take an easy out.

I shrug. “He took it really well, actually. He didn’t resist, just ran with it like he’d done it a thousand times.”

She waggles her brows. “Do you think he enjoyed himself?”