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Thatdefinitelyhadn’t been how she’d wanted to reply.
“In black ink,” I intoned.
She huffed a short laugh. “Is there any other kind?”
My mouth tilted in amusement. “Not in my world.”
Her bright eyes met mine as she grinned. No one knew better than Catherine how much I loathed blue ink.
My levity quickly faded, and my urge for Catherine to understand why I felt no pity for Donald Rockford propelled me to speak.
“Donald Rockford attempted to buy steel from a manufacturer under investigation after a high-rise constructed with their product collapsed in Shanghai. Over two-hundred people died.Everyone, including him,knew the steel was graded as poor quality and prone to embrittlement. And he went ahead with the deal anyway. It was US Customs that stopped the steel from being imported. If it were up to Donald, he’d take chances with the lives of his future tenants to save a few dollars.”
A fewmilliondollars, to be precise.
Her pale throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Well, I suppose we should thank the Customs agent who prevented that from happening.”
“I suppose we should.”
The elevator doors slid open, and Catherine rushed off, her ponytail swishing against her back. I followed, pushing Donald Rockford from my mind. He’d been the architect of his own demise, leaving him with nothing.
And that was exactly what I felt about his condition.
Nothing.
We were in the back of my limo, being driven to the office. Traffic crawled, taking several minutes to travel a handful of feet. Fortunately, I had my phone and laptop. Catherine was tapping away on her tablet, making efficient use of her time.
Details were important to me. If I missed one number, it could be catastrophic. That was why I didn’t miss numbers. I studied details.
Yet, I’d missed a glaring one.
Catherine was pregnant.
Now that I’d been made aware of it by my smug friends, Weston and Luca, I questioned how I could have missed it. Seated across from me, her round stomach stretched her thin, black sweater to within an inch of its life.
I didn’t like being surprised almost as much as I hated blue ink.
She lifted her eyes from her tablet, catching me studying her. Her head cocked, and she rubbed her lips together. I glanced down at the swell of her belly, and she exhaled.
“Are you ready to have this conversation?” I asked.
“Not really.” Slowly, she lowered her tablet to the seat beside her. “An email would probably be more efficient.”
“We seem to be in the car for the long haul. I’d prefer to make use of our time.” I tapped the window, drawing her attention to the bumper-to-bumper traffic. “Were you planning on giving birth at your desk?”
Her mouth twitched. “That would have been quite an announcement. No, that was never in the cards.”
“Are you coming back after your leave?”
She jolted like I’d shocked her. “Of course I am. I have to work.”
“How will you do this job with a small baby at home?”
Her hands stacked in her lap. “Are you allowed to ask me that?”
“Probably not, but it’s a genuine concern. Will your husband be able to take over childcare while you’re traveling with me?”
She let out a lilting laugh. “Oh, I don’t have a husband.”
