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He turns to her, and while his look is not doting or loving, the contract topic bringing business back into the mix, I am the awkward third wheel here. I’m just an elevator dalliance, meaningless and short, a whisper in a dark night never heard. Embarrassed that I’d thought it might lead to something more, I hurry away and enter the open double doors of Hawk Legal. My little flirtation in the elevator is over, if it was even a flirtation at all. I don’t really know what it was or was not. It’s over. As if proving that point to myself, I step to the reception desk, and despite my silent plea with myself not to, I glance behind me. The man and his blonde goddess are gone.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I’m here to see Allison, please,” I say when the receptionist finally offers me her full attention.
“And you are?” she queries.
“Also Allison,” I reply, offering her my card, not the card for the local art museum but rather my card for Riptide, which I know will garner respect. “Allison Wright.”
She glances at the card and then at me again, and she’s clearly not impressed. She’s pale-skinned, blue-eyed, and a brunette, with an air of privilege that her position does not demand nor for that matter, should anyone hold over someone else.
“Allison isn’t in right now,” she says, handing me back my card.
“Will she be back soon?”
“Not today,” she says. “Can I help you?”
I consider bringing up the delivery again but decide she’ll just do what she did earlier, and ask me to leave it here. Which I’d do if it wasn’t such a personal gift. I don’t want to spread this “other” Allison’s personal business around the office. “I just need to talk to her. Can you give her my card?”
She glances at it fully this time, and then me, “Wait. Riptide?” Her brows dip. “The Riptide?” She doesn’t wait for a reply. “I thought Riptide was in New York City?”
“It is and I normally am as well.”
“If you can tell me what this is about, I can try to direct you to someone other than Allison.”
“I appreciate that, but I really need Allison, just Allison.”
“All right then,” she says. “I’ll be sure to tell Allison when she returns to work.”
There’s nothing more that I can say. The necklace is too expensive to leave in just anyone’s hands. And I can certainly call the courier, but I’d rather deliver the package to Allison myself, so that I know it’s done safely. Reluctantly, I turn and walk through the lobby toward the elevator, feeling let down in a major way. When I step onto the elevator, it’s with a sense of unease I don’t understand. Allison will be back and she’ll call me. Or I’ll call her. Soon, I’ll meet her and hand over her beautiful necklace.
CHAPTER FIVE
Three days after my visit to Hawk Legal, I still haven’t heard from Allison, despite my numerous calls and another drop by the office. Instead, I’m sitting at my desk when Carrie buzzes into my office and announces, “There’s a Mark Compton on the phone.”
My heart races with the name.
Mark is one of the principal founders of Riptide, and I usually deal with his mother, who we jokingly call “Queen Compton,” or her right-hand person, Crystal. Both of whom are easy to talk to, but Mark is another story. He’s intimidating—a force of nature, a man who is all power and control and demand. It was his mother who let me take a leave of absence and keep my job, and I can’t help but fear that’s about to end.
“Put him through,” I say, and I swear my hands are clammy as I pick up the phone. “Mr. Compton. This is unexpected.”
“Yes, it is, Ms. Wright,” he says. “Can you tell me why you’re getting an invitation to Hawk Legal’s annual party as a representative of Riptide?”
“Oh. I—that’s strange. I did leave my card at the front desk. I guess someone got me confused with a client.”
“Why were you there at all?” he asks, getting right to the point. “Are you looking for a job? Or, worse, are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No,” I say quickly. “God, no. Riptide means the world to me and I’m not someone who gets in trouble.”
He’s silent, which leads me down a dark hole of speculation. Perhaps my reply doesn’t sit right with him. Or maybe it just doesn’t answer his question sufficiently enough, and thus doesn’t justify his response. Or as he does, perhaps he’s luring me into a deep, dark empty hole that entices me to fill the space with a confession. And yet, despite knowing this about him, I do just that.
“I received a package that was meant for someone at Hawk Legal,” I explain quickly, and since I did tell Crystal about the temp job at the museum, I add, “The museum is just a few blocks down.”
