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We slid into the old elevator and it crept upward at a snail’s pace. I gave my skirt a futile smoothing, shifting my weight from foot to foot.
“So what picture is Jacob trying to get rid of?”
I froze. I wasn’t sure where Jacob and I stood or what I was going to say to the photographer, but I was pretty sure that he didn’t want his name to be anywhere near this situation.
“I, um--” I looked at the floor indicator, willing the elevator to move faster so I could get off the hook. I glanced down at the paper, a name jumping out at me. “Mike Warsaw. I wanted to see if he took a picture of a…client.”
“Warsaw’s out of the office today, but if it’s juicy enough for you to come down here, I’m sure I could help you. Who’s the picture of?”
“An actor and a—” I cleared my throat and decided to be vague as possible. “Local girl.”
She scratched her chin, forehead winkled as she thought it over. She snapped her fingers, just as the elevator shuddered to a stop on our floor.
“The action guy, right? Cade Wallace?”
I nodded, my whole body tensing.
She stepped out of the elevator. “That picture sold this morning.” She frowned. “I still don’t understand why you’re here though.”
I swallowed the knot in my throat. I was so close. “I was hoping we could settle it before you sold it to a magazine.”
“We didn’t sell it to a magazine,” she said, crossing her arms. “We sold it to Cade Wallace.”
****
I dove head first into work. I fleshed out client dockets, updated calendars and delivered all messages to their appropriate recipients, trying to keep it together. Jacob still hadn’t talked to me in two days. And then there was the whole Cade thing. Why would he buy the picture? What did he have to gain?
I turned my attention back to the task list on my screen, forcing Cade from my mind. Naturally, the next thing on the list was contacting Lisa Jones, Cade’s personal assistant.
I begrudgingly clicked open a new tab, searching for Lisa’s contact number.
I put the phone on speaker and dialed the number. I was being silly. It wasn’t like I had to deal with Cade. The third ring ended abruptly and a voice much too deep to be Lisa’s flowed through the speakers.
“Lisa Jones’ phone.”
My throat tightened and my eyes nearly bulged from my head.
“Helloooo?” Cade held the o, trailing off suggestively. Taunting me.
I needed to say something because calling right back would be infinitely more awkward than the first time around, “Hi.”
My voice was tiny, a hoarse, pathetic whisper. I coughed and gave myself a swift kick in the ass before I said it again. With feeling. And not like I was still that girl gazing at the contours of her favorite actor’s body. “Hello, this is--”
“Leila,” I heard him rearranging, giving me his full attention. “What’s up?”
I closed my eyes, gathering my wits about me. “Mr. Wallace--”
“Cade.”
“Mr. Wallace,” I said pointedly, ignoring him. “I was trying to reach your assistant. Is the number on her card was incorrect?”
“Nope,” he said smoothly. “She’s right here.” He let out a chuckle. “Giving me the evil eye for answering her phone. When I saw Whitmore and Creighton flashing, I thought it might be you and--”
“Could I please speak with Ms. Jones?”
“Well I can tell you she likes that Mr./Mrs. stuff even less than me.” After he realized his chuckles weren’t contagious, he got serious. “What’s up? I know you called for Lisa, but I’m the next best thing.”
My first thought was to stand my ground and refuse to carry on a conversation with him, but I realized that the quicker I just spit it out, the quicker I could disconnect. Ask him about the pictures!
