That was until my new copies arrived. Brand new. Pages never even flicked through.‘You’re lucky, Miss Feelan, copies just for you. Awhole set. You were top of the waiting list.’I knew it was bullshit, but I also knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. A gift horse who signed his name on every single library card.
So, no, it’s not weird to want to keep them. They mean the world to me, but it is my turn to hand them in and give the world to someone else.
“Those books were the only way I could study. I don’t want to prevent someone else from having the same resources.” My excuse feels paltry on my tongue, but there’s no way I can explain. Nor do I want to.
Cas seems to get it though. “Well, now I feel like shit.” There’s a twinkle in his eye that tells me he’s joking—sort of, then he shakes his head in mock defeat. “Damn, now I’ll have to order you dessert to make up for it. I’m craving cheesecake. Are you good with that?”
I snort. “I’m great with that. Just no strawberries.”
“Allergy?”
“Bad experience.” Memories of being five and seeing my pinkie twisted out at an angle that was all wrong, flood me along with the taste of strawberry on my tongue. That was the last time I ever stole from Eric Feelan. Acid burns in my throat at the thought.
“How can anyone have a bad experience with a strawberry?” Cas laughs, then he must see my face because he quickly changes his mind. “Wait, do you know what? I don’t want to know. Let’s not risk ruining it for the rest of us.” His tone is still light and full of amusement, but I can see he’s figured it out by the gentle way he looks at me. God. I hate pity.
“Good thinking. Thanks, Cas.” I dart upstairs and into the open-plan lounge.
Ben is sprawled across the sofa; his eyes find mine the second I crest the top step. “You took your time.”
“Yeah, it’s been a good day. Cas is ordering food. He wants you to tell him what you want.”
Ben’s eyes widen. “You want me to join you for dinner?”
It wasn’t exactly what I’d meant, but it’s not a bad idea either. Spending the evening here alone no longer appeals. We might as well make an event of it. “Sure. If you’ve not got plans.”
“None.” Ben pulls out his phone and rattles his thumbs across the screen, likely listing dishes. “So, you had a good day, huh?”
“Productive. Marty set me a practical task that consumed my afternoon.”
Ben chuckles. “Ah, contracts season at HU.”
“How did you—?”
“They’re Marty’s expertise. We’ve all signed one of his contracts at some point.” He lays his phone beside him, turning his attention to me once more.
That seems excessive but interesting. “Even you? I didn’t know you were formally affiliated with UACT or Trevainne.”
“Yeah, I work directly for Dax as an assistant. Or at least that’s what I’ll put on my resume.” I love the wicked way he avoids saying‘I’m a spy’while still saying,‘I’m a spy.’ “I got the NDAs and employment contracts to start with.”
“I have those here.” I nod at the printouts.
“You’re working on paper?”
“Printouts to annotate, yeah. Why?”
“You can access the files digitally, you know?”
“What?”
He picks up his phone and waves it at me. “The Trevainne contracts are on file.”
“That may be so, but I’m not an employee. It would be a breach of client confidentiality to allow me access to their system.”
“Perhaps…” He takes a second to think about it. “Yeah, okay, but you could also compare the standard template to a fully furnished contract. Have a look at the changes. It might highlight a few things?”
It’s a good idea. “I’ll ask Marty if there are any defunct examples I could look over.”
“Or I could send you mine?”
