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“Catie,” I can’t help but murmur, “you look beautiful. Just damp, that’s all.” I get to my feet. “Come on. We’ll get you settled in, and Marion can show you the ropes.”
Chapter Seven
Catie
I’m so relieved he’s not telling me to leave that I don’t react to his compliment as he leads me into the next office.
Marion is there, talking to Kip, who’s rifling through folders in a filing cabinet. They both look over as we come out, and my face warms as I see them note my no-doubt-blotchy face and red eyes.
“Catie’s feeling better,” Saxon states, “so we’re going to put her to work. Marion, would you be kind enough to run through the basics?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve a super-busy schedule,” he says to me, “but we’ll try to leave around twelve-thirty, okay?”
I meet his eyes, and despite my precarious situation, I can’t help but mock him with, “Ooh, ‘super-busy schedule.’”
He exchanges a glance with Kip, who’s trying not to laugh.
“Do you know why computers are like women?” Saxon asks sarcastically. “No one but the Creator understands their internal logic.”
I take the seat behind the desk. “Do you know why computers are like men? As soon as you commit to one, you realize that if you’d waited a bit longer, you could have had a better model.”
Kip snorts, and Marion laughs but looks surprised, as if she’s unused to people teasing him.
Saxon mutters something under his breath, then walks into his office and closes the door.
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” Marion asks.
I nod, looking at a plate of food that’s sitting on the desk. It wasn’t there before. It contains some club sandwiches, a small pie, three sausage rolls, two fingers of pizza, and a selection of tiny cakes.
“I stole them from the delivery we had for one of the working lunches today,” she says. “Don’t want you fainting again.”
I look up at her. It’s hard for me to say, but I force the words out, “Thank you.”
“No worries, love.” She smiles, then pulls up a chair beside me. “Let me run through a few things. You’re mainly here to answer the phone and type reports. You can see some templates in this folder. You’re au fait with Microsoft Office?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Saxon does most of his own communication by email, but he’ll dictate his longer reports—are you okay with audio typing?” When I nod, she continues, “Great. The reports will be very technical and that will be tough for you, but just do as best as you can. As you type each document, upload it to this folder—he has access to it, and he’ll be able to see when it’s complete. All the guys’ calendars are online and linked so we can see if anything clashes. You’ve met Kip, obviously,” she gestures at him over by the cabinet and he raises a hand. “Damon Chevalier is their younger brother—he’s at a conference in Christchurch today, but he’ll be back tomorrow.”
“What does each of them do here?”
“They’re joint CEOs of Kingpinz, which does research into the development of robotics in healthcare—in surgical assistance, in patient care, and in things like prosthetics. Saxon is also the head of the Wellington Branch of NZAI—New Zealand Artificial Intelligence—which is run from here, and he’s currently running the Auckland branch too, so he comes and goes between the two cities. He’s supposed to pass on his responsibilities at Kingpinz to the other two, but we’re having trouble wrestling them from his hands.”
Kip gives a short laugh. “He’s a workaholic,” he explains as he tucks a folder back into the cabinet. “He can’t delegate to save his life.” He closes the cabinet drawer and smiles. “I’m just along the corridor. You’re welcome to come and find me if you need anything.”
“Thank you. Um, I’m sorry about this morning.”
“That’s okay. It must have been a shock for you, especially when I didn’t recognize you.”
“I honestly didn’t know he was here,” I say, wanting him to trust me. “I swear it.”
He studies me, which is unnerving, considering how much he looks like his brother. His eyes are sharp behind his glasses. But then he smiles. “I believe you. And so does he, but he’s had a big shock. Just be patient with him. He’s a good guy.”
I give a small smile, and then he walks away.
I meet Marion’s eyes, and I wait for her to ask where I met Saxon, because I’m sure she must be curious. But she obviously hasn’t reached the position of Head Secretary without being discreet and tactful, and all she says, somewhat briskly, is, “Right. What else can I show you?”
