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“I need you to look into one of my people.” I pause, listening. Bristol’s on the phone. From the pattern of her voice, it’s a work call. She’s occupied. “Bristol Anderson. A temp working at my company.”
Filling in until I get another secretary. One who won’t leave at the first sign of minor irritation.
“No full background yet, right?”
“No.”
The temp agency cleared her to work for me. I don’t usually bother with more research into people like Bristol. They’re never around for very long. That’s the whole point of being a temp. You disappear when you’re no longer needed.
“Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“I want to know everything.”
“Got it.” A pen scratches in the background of the call. “I’ll get back to you soon.”
4
BRISTOL
I can’t do this.
I have to do this.
It’s a dilemma.
I almost broke down in Mr. Leblanc’s office earlier. Confessed everything to him. He looked genuinely interested… for a heartbeat. Then that curiosity was gone from his blue eyes.
Not exactly blue. They trend toward green. Breathtaking eyes, actually.
The kind of thing I shouldn’t be noticing when it comes to my boss, especially when I’m already on thin ice with him.
He knew something was wrong. I tried to be as put-together as possible this morning. Have everything ready before he asked for it.
Mistake. It made it obvious that I’m freaking out.
Who wouldn’t be?
A calendar alert pings on my computer. I rise from my seat, picking up the portfolio I prepared earlier. There’s no need to be nervous about giving it to Mr. Leblanc, but my heart pounds.
I tap my knuckles on the doorframe and stride in. Mr. Leblanc stands behind his desk, tapping at something on the keyboard. He stops and straightens up.
“For your three o’clock.”
He takes it from my hand, and for a second, both of us are holding on.
Right. I’m the one who has to let go.
“Thank you.”
“Do you need anything else?”
“No.”
He’s back to being his usual terse self, then. I should be relieved about that. If he’s not worried about me anymore, his mind is on other things.
I head back to my desk. A minute later, he passes by on the way to his meeting.
Unfair. Really, truly unfair. He looks so good in a suit. The bruise on his cheek from yesterday faded a little. I still wonder where he got it. With as much money as he has, there should be no reason for him to have a bruise. Who would be fighting with him?
