Page 148 of His Good Girl

Benjamin looked at me for one long second.

“Not many people.”

“Do you have names?” I asked.

“I have possibilities.”

“Tell me.”

“Not until I can prove which one is real. I will not set fire to her life or yours because my instincts are wearing tap shoes.”

I stared at him and he held my gaze.

“Fine,” I said.

“Good. I treasure these moments when you make intelligent choices without a sedative.”

“Get out.”

“Already gone.”

* * *

The whole thing exploded on Thursday. Benjamin entered my office while I was on the phone with Marcus and placed a cream card on my desk with a name printed in black type.

Grant Vale

Meridian Strategic Risk

I looked at the card, then at Benjamin.

“No,” I said into the phone, though Marcus thought I was speaking to him and immediately started apologizing. “Not you. I’ll call you back.”

I hung up.

Benjamin’s face had gone smooth in a way I did not like. “Mr. Vale is downstairs.”

“Did we invite him?”

“No. He says interested parties requested a private conversation regarding the Hartwell project.”

“Is he from Lang?”

“Unofficially, spiritually, and aromatically.”

“Send him away.”

“I considered that. Then he said he had material responsive to the message left for Ms. Hale.”

I stood up too quickly, anger flaring from deep in the pit of my soul.

Benjamin’s eyes narrowed in my direction. “Callum.”

“Conference Room B. No phones except yours. I want Tom and Dana present.”

“And Avery?”

“No.”