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It’s just an attraction that we need to ignore. Nothing more.
I groan and rub my hands over my face. As if I could ignore something as fierce as what I feel for my fiery personal assistant.
Chapter 11
Megan
It’sbeenawhilesince I’ve been this exhausted coming back from my parents’ house. That’s normally the place that makes me feel better, to feel exhilarated. Mom and Dad are good at building us up and making us feel good. Now I just want to crawl into bed and hide from everyone.
“Do you want me to make you anything?” Clark asks as we enter our apartment, heading toward the kitchen. “Coffee? Food?”
“Coffee. I think Mom’s stuffed me.” I close the door and put my bag on the table. “How you can eat after what Mom cooked for us, I have no idea. She keeps me filled for the rest of the day.”
“I’m a bottomless stomach, remember?” Clark winks at me before he disappears. “You shouldn’t expect anything different.”
“Oh, right. Silly me.”
Someone knocks at the door, which has me sighing heavily. Now isn't the time for visitors. Not for me, anyway. After Eric’s visit earlier saying he would take me on as his side piece, the thought of interacting with anyone doesn’t fill me with enthusiasm.
If it’s the bastard coming back for another go…
I open the door, ready for a fight, only to find my elderly neighbor in the hall. She gives me a warm smile.
“Hi, Megan. How was your visit to your parents?”
“Oh, hi, Marjorie,” I pull back my anger. I can’t be mean to the sweet thing who lives next door. “It was fine. Mom says hi.”
“She’s such a darling,” she smiles wide. “Anyway, I saw that you had a letter shoved under the door when I came back from walking Patch. I knew you wouldn’t be back until later, so I kept hold of it for you.”
“A letter?” I frown. “I wasn’t expecting anything.”
“It looks pretty generic, so it’s probably nothing, but I thought I’d look after it.” Marjorie holds out the letter. “Sorry if I did anything out of turn…”
“No, it’s fine. That was kind of you.” I smile and take the letter. It feels a little firmer than I thought. Maybe there was a card inside? “By the way, Mom is coming over during the week to help us with the decorating. I’ll ask her to bring some of her fudge cake for you.”
“Oh, there’s no need to do that,” she waves me off.
“I insist. I should have brought some back today, but the bottomless stomach that is my brother ate most of it.”
Marjorie laughs. “He is a growing boy. I’m not surprised.”
“Even at his age?”
“They never seem to stop. Anyway, have a good evening, dear.” Marjorie waves and heads back into her apartment.
I close the door and look at the letter. It’s just got my name and address printed on it, feeling stiff in my fingers. I hold it up to the light, but that doesn’t do anything.
“What are you doing?” Clark appears in the doorway.
“I don’t know. Marjorie found this shoved under our door,” I reply.
Clark comes over. “What is it?”
“No idea,” I start to open it. “I’m sure it’s just junk.”
“Junk on a Sunday?” He doesn’t seem convinced.
I have a feeling I know what this is, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions. Opening the letter, I take out the contents. There are two pieces, on a folded piece of paper that fills the whole envelope, and a neatly printed card with gold writing on a yellow background. I have to angle it right so I can read it properly.
