Page 15

Chapter 6

Claudia is starting her second week and still can't believe she's surviving. In fact, she was sure that by the third day she'd show up at her parents' house, tell them she was done with them, their stupid company, and the inheritance they'd held over her head, and call Nadia to help her find a job anywhere—but the days have kept going, and even though she feels like she's living someone else's life, she isn't handling it that badly. Maybe it's because Laia decided her first two weeks would be in administration.

"Your aunt told me you work in an office at your parents' company, so I thought the change might not be as abrupt for you if you start in a different one here," she said without looking at her, because Laia has a real problem with that.

Since then, Claudia spends entire days sitting near a woman named Cecilia who looks at her like she's an annoying insect, but who has kept her busy every hour. Claudia has learned to cross-reference what a delivery note says against what actually came into the warehouse—she picked that up because Elvira sends her with Irene every time a truck arrives—and that if she signs a delivery note with the wrong quantity on it, getting anything back from the supplier afterward is nearly impossible. She also now knows that the lining orders come from a company in Igualada and the buttons from another one in Italy.

The hours fly by, and she ends that week so exhausted that she doesn't feel like going out on Tuesday or Thursday the way she usually does, even though Laia follows her in her car every day. But it hasn't all been smooth sailing. Thursday morning she shows up late again—almost two hours, simply because she doesn't hear her alarm. When she arrives at the company, neither Laia nor her aunt is waiting at the entrance, but when she heads upstairs to administration, Laia steps out of her office with her expression tight.

"You weren't supposed to go out," she says, furious, arms pressed to her sides and fists clenched with anger. "I followed you and you went into your building. What's going on? Do I have to stand guard at the door now?"

Claudia raises an eyebrow. It's disconcerting to have to answer to a girl barely twenty-six years old who is shorter than her and, instead of being intimidating, makes Claudia want to hug her. She opens her mouth to respond, but they're in the middle of the hallway and the door at the far end—the one to administration—stands open with Cecilia, the office gossip, watching without even trying to hide it. Without thinking, Claudia grabs Laia by the arm and pulls her inside the office.

The assistant nearly trips over her own feet and freezes when Claudia stops in front of her.

"First of all, I didn't go out. I overslept."

Laia blinks. Clearly, that seems even worse to her.

"Seriously?" she murmurs, stunned. "I don't know which is worse. Are you telling me you can't set an alarm in the morning?"

Claudia takes a step toward her. Waking up rushed puts her in a bad mood, and having to explain herself makes it even worse, because Claudia has spent her entire life justifying almost everything she does to her parents.

"I'm capable of a lot of things, Laia," she whispers, and for a second she's tempted to lean close to her ear and say something that would make her even more nervous—because Laia's hands are trembling and she's blinking very fast—but she holds herself back. "Have you never had your alarm go off when you were so deeply asleep you didn't hear it?"

"Of course not," Laia says firmly, glancing at her for a moment before taking a step back, because Claudia's closeness is turning her legs into something warm and liquid that threatens to buckle them. "I have responsibilities, and if I'm late and they fire me, I don't have my parents behind me to hand me a credit card."

Claudia stares at her. Hearing that feels like a punch right in the center of her chest, but she can't argue with it, because that's just how it is—she's never known what it's like to need money and not have it. Her father gave her her first card at sixteen, capped at a specific—and already generous—amount each month, and on her eighteenth birthday his gift to her was removing the limit entirely.

"I'm apparently responsible for you now, so every time you're late, it makes me look incompetent," Laia continues, because one thing is that this woman throws every molecule in her body off balance, and another thing entirely is letting her put her job at risk.

"Then you'll have to do better next time," Claudia snaps, patience wearing thin. "And if you can't do your job, tell my aunt to find you something simpler."

Laia tightens her fists as she watches her walk out of the office and returns to her desk—except instead of picking up where she left off, she opens the file on Claudia she's been filling out every day, writes the date, and adds a couple of lines explaining that not only did she arrive late but that she doesn't seem the least bit sorry.

Then she leans back in her chair and feels sorry for herself, because she has fallen head over heels for a woman who confuses her enormously—because sometimes, like right now, she seems arrogant and selfish, but most of the time she's warm, considerate, and so infuriatingly likable that it's impossible not to be charmed by her.

Yesterday was Monday, and one of the most uncomfortable moments Laia has had to live through so far. She walks into her boss's office as soon as Elvira arrives and hands her the two copies of the report they'd agreed on.

"Thank you. Go get Claudia and bring her here," Elvira says, using those few minutes to read everything Laia has written.

She has to admit that Laia is good at that too. She's been thorough—noting the two days her niece arrived late, the reason given and how long she was delayed each time, but also noting that she accepts every task she's asked to do without questioning it, doesn't complain, and learns fairly quickly. That surprises Elvira, not that Laia mentioned it, but that Claudia has behaved that way at all, because deep down she had expected to have her in the office every day complaining about something and demanding a position that matches her status.

Laia comes back five minutes later with Claudia behind her, and when she goes to leave so they can talk privately, Elvira's voice stops her cold.

"Where are you going, Fabra? Sit down."

The assistant turns around, eyes wide, heart in her throat, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. She wants her to stay? She's going to make her sit there while she reads the report in front of Claudia? Apparently so, because her boss is watching her with one eyebrow raised, waiting for her to move.

"All right. Punctuality doesn't seem to be your thing, Claudia. First Monday, then Thursday—is this a habit, or do you have a brilliant explanation?" she asks, her voice edged with sarcasm, and Laia shrinks in her chair.

"I overslept."

"Excuse me?"

Claudia holds her aunt's gaze without flinching. She doesn't move at all—doesn't bounce a leg or fidget with any part of herself the way Laia does—she's just there, still, as if none of this has anything to do with her.

"I overslept."