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“Chill about Littleton, okay? I look forward to the fuck-fest! My office attire is fine! I’ve received several compliments on it! And yes, taking good care of our baby! Having yogurt and juice like a good girl.”
I finished my yogurt and went back to the vending machine for an apple. When I returned to the table, I had another text from Trey. Damn! He's texting me during the settlement conference?
“I’m sure you have, Ms. Preston."
The tables had turned. It was Trey’s turn to be jealous about the attention I drew. I hit reply:
“How can you be paying attention to this very important conference while texting me???”
I finished my apple and downed the rest of my juice before I heard my phone beep again.
“It’s called multi-tasking, Tylar. I do it all the time when we’re fucking or haven't you noticed?"
I giggled while reading his text at the same time Debbie walked in to refill her coffee mug. She looked around to see if anyone else was in the kitchen. I picked up my phone and purse and headed to the restroom. Once inside the stall, I replied to Trey’s text:
“I've noticed with great pleasure baby! I'm heading back to our office to relieve Leah for lunch. I'll be serving you your P.B. & J. soon.”
I texted Gina while I was in there asking her if she had any clothes she wanted to get rid of. She responded quickly, saying she would dig through her closet and drop anything off before she went to the club with Ian tonight.
Leah left to take her lunch when I returned to my desk. She said she would cut it short if I needed her back at 1 p.m. to help serve lunch. I assured her that I could handle it. She gave me a stack of messages. Trey’s personal assistant, Tonya, had brought over several messages for him. She asked Leah to make sure that Trey got them when lunch was delivered. I was glad I was out when Tonya came by because she might suspect my relationship with Trey; P.A.s were privy to a lot of information concerning their bosses.
I leafed through Trey’s messages. Greg Sims from Sim’s Private Investigation Services had requested a call back to update progress. There were several messages from in-house attorneys. Then, I saw the last message: Tess Flannery had called this morningat 10:30.
What the fuck?
Why would she call Trey? She must've heard from Landon about our “situation.” Christ, even I was referring to it now as a situation. I put Tess’s message atop Trey’s stack so he saw it first.
At 12:50, the boxed lunches were delivered to Harmon’s wing by Josh from the mailroom. I filled another ice bucket and met Josh, who wheeled the sandwich cart. I set the ice bucket on it, grabbed the phone messages, and knocked firmly on the conference room door.
“Come in,” one of the attorneys barked. It had to be Harmon or Richardson; I knew it wasn’t Trey. I opened the door tentatively, holding it for Josh to come through with the cart.
“Gentlemen,” Barry Richardson said, nodding for Josh to put the boxes on the credenza, “we will take a restroom and lunch break now. We will resume our discussion in 20 minutes.”
I helped Josh unload the cart and I restocked the credenza. I turned away from the credenza just as Mr. Littleton brushed against my backside.
Fuck! I hope Trey didn't see that!
When I looked over and saw the pure anger in Trey’s eyes, I knew that he'd seen it. I tried my best to flash him a “no-big-deal” look, but he was having none of it. He abruptly stood and followed Littleton to the door, taking long, angry strides. I cut him off at the pass.
“Mr. Sinclair,” I called out, waving the pink message slips.
“What?” he snapped, turning to me, and his face softened when he caught my intent. I knew that he hadn’t meant to snap at me.
“Your messages, sir,” I replied, handing him the stack.
He took them, his eyes still locked on mine. I nodded at the messages, turning as he read the one on top. I went over to Mr. Harmon, handing him his messages, then to Richardson. I departed the conference room and welcomed the sight of my desk. Leah returned about 15 minutes later and asked how everything had gone.
“No problems at all,” I lied.
CHAPTER 46
I awoke with a start from my nap. I looked at the clock on the nightstand. It read 7:12 p.m. The room was dark, the sun had obviously set. I couldn’t believe that my after-work cat nap got away from me. Why wasn’t Trey home from work yet? I heard rustling and the sound of ice clinking in crystal. I looked over to the corner of the room and saw Trey in the sitting area. His left arm was draped over the back of the chair, a glass with ice and a couple of shots of amber liquor in the other. I sat up abruptly and switched on the lamp.
“I didn’t hear you come in Trey,” I said. “I didn’t mean to take such a long nap. I wanted to start dinner for you.”
He stood up and came over to the bed. He wore a white dress shirt with his tie loose around his neck. His five o’clock shadow looked sexy and he was in his stocking feet. He sat down on the bed beside me. “Tylar,” he sighed heavily, “I’m not sure that it’s going to work out having you working at the firm.”
“Why?” I asked, puzzled. “Did I do something wrong?”
