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And she’s beautiful, no doubt about it, but that’s not why I’m unsettled. Georgina’s jaw is tight, like she’s gritting her teeth behind that pretty smile, and her eyes are hard as she draws near.
The back of my neck prickles.
Is she nervous, perhaps? Is that why her shoulders are so tense? There’s no need for her to be afraid: as long as she’s competent, her new job is safe.
“Thank you,” I say when she places a coffee mug by my left wrist. The quiet thump echoes through the large office: a reminder that we’re up here all alone. Even the faint sounds of traffic far below in the street are muted.
It’s early morning—so early I thought I’d be the only person here. Huge windows look out on the city rooftops, and the sky out there is dusky pink. A few last-minute stars pulse between tufts of cloud.
Georgina grunts, then seems to remember herself. Her hundred watt smile is dazzling, and she breathes: “You’re so welcome, Mr Laurent.”
I am? It’s just coffee. This woman is rather intense.
But… perhaps it’s a crush, then? I shift in my desk chair, the leather creaking.
That won’t do. She’s distracting enough without the extra temptation. And I don’t mingle with Ignis staff, nor anyone else, for that matter. There’s too much work to do, and the clock is ticking. I’ll socialize once our tech is flawless.
The first sip makes me wince. I frown down at my coffee mug in dismay, burnt bitterness on my tongue.
“Is everything alright?”Merde, she’s perky first thing in the morning. Her bright voice seems extra loud, battering my sleep-deprived brain, and I sigh, rubbing at my temple.
“Ah. Yes.” I could tell her the coffee is awful—of course I could. In fact, Ishould.This is part of her job after all, and only a simpleton could get it wrong. But when I glance over, she’s watching me so eagerly, her blue eyes gleaming, and the harsh words shrivel and die in my throat.
It’s one coffee. I’m sure she’ll learn to make it better.
“Get me the quarter two reports, please. Then call Dr Thacker over at the lab, and tell him I’ll be there by midday…”
My mouth moves independently, reeling off the list of instructions. Georgina whips out a small notepad from a dress pocket and scribbles notes as I talk. This is an improvement on Daniel. He seemed to think his memory was flawless, and believe me, it was not.
The morning sunshine is golden where it spills through the windows. It glitters against the strands of her fair hair. Georgina chews on her bottom lip as she writes, frowning in concentration, and her bare arms look smooth and tanned.
Does she spend much time outside? Itissummer. Tilting my head, I try to picture her riding a bicycle through one of the city parks, or stretched on a towel in a bikini, sunbathing on the grass. Flicking through a dog-eared paperback, maybe, or sitting up with a lazy sigh, her toned stomach crunching, to drink from a water flask.
Stop that.
I shake myself, then give her the last few instructions. What the hell is wrong with me? She’s my assistant. I am at work. If I’m not thinking about clean tech, I’m wasting precious time.
“…And push my 4pm meeting back by an hour,” I finish. There’s a beat of silence, her pen scratching over her notebook, but when Georgina lifts her chin, she doesn’t leave like she should. Blue eyes bore into me, her gaze hard.
My gut sinks as she stares at me, unblinking. A muscle leaps in her temple. If it weren’t ridiculous, I’d think this woman hated me.
“Yes?” I clip at last, irritated beyond all reason. My neck itches, and my foul coffee is going cold. “Why are you still here?”
I have things to do. Always so many things to do, and so many people relying on me. Even this rude girl, who apparently never learned not to stare, needs me to focus if she wants a future paycheck. So I know I’m being an ass, but I still wave her away like a little child. “Run along, please.”
Her laugh is strangled. Like she can’t believe how awful I am—but that makes no sense.Hero worship, they said. Everyone else in this company admires me, so why shouldn’t she?
I wait until she’s gone, the door swinging shut behind her. Then I gulp down another burned mouthful of coffee… and splutter, thumping my chest.
Three
Georgie
It’s quiet when I get home. I drop my keys into the bowl by the door and toe off my shoes, eyes and ears all assessing. Is he here? The apartment is messy, with shoes abandoned by the entrance and a teetering pile of mail on a stool, but it’s our usual low-grade clutter rather than the bombsite I’ve walked into a few times before.
“Dad?” My voice echoes in the quiet. This is an old building and the walls are thick—thank god. Else we’d have been kicked out a long time ago.
Blowing out a long breath, I wander through the familiar rooms, my fingertips brushing over the furniture: the bookcase that needs dusting; the cracked leather sofa with a crocheted throw; the scrubbed kitchen table that we sit at for dinner when we’re Making An Effort. No signs of life—but no wreckage either.
