Page 69

At eight fifty-nine, I finally hear her voice.
I stand, banging my knee on the bottom of my desk in my haste, and stride toward the door.
She’s wearing all blue today. A sky-blue blouse, neatly tucked into a navy pencil skirt.
And she’s not alone. She’s walking with a blonde woman who is smiling and nodding and looks vaguely familiar. I’ve seen her around the office before, but I can’t come up with her name.
It doesn’t escape my notice that Collins normally shows up to work early and alone, but today, she’s appearing on time and accompanied. She’s also pointedly not looking in my direction. The blonde spots me first, her eyes widening when she notices I’m standing right where they’re headed.
“Good morning, Collins,” I greet.
Collins’s expression is impassive as she nods in acknowledgment. “Good morning.” She glances at her companion. “Margot, you know Kit Kensington? My, uh … our boss?”
“I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced.” Margot holds out a hand for me to shake, smiling brightly. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Kensington.”
“Kit, please. And nice to meet you too.” My gaze leaps back to Collins. “I need to speak to you in my office.”
She sets her bag on the wooden counter that runs around the perimeter of her desk. “I need to check the messages first so I can flag anything urgent.”
I rap my knuckles on the wood. “Thisis urgent.”
Margot’s eyebrows lift an inch. Collins doesn’t react at all.
I know I’m acting like an overbearing tyrant. An unreasonable boss. But the past hour spent staring at the clock has frayed my limited patience down to nothing.
I sigh. “Five minutes?”
Collins’s spine is stiff as she agrees, “Five minutes.”
When I sit back down at my desk, I have eight hundred forty-three unread emails.
I chug half my coffee before clicking on the most recent one. The worst part is, I worked over the weekend. Not very efficiently since I was distracted by Friday night’s events, but enough that the number would have been a lot higher if I hadn’t.
I still have eight hundred forty emails to go when my office door opens and Collins steps inside.
I sit up straight and adjust my cuff links. Debate standing and decide that’s more awkward.
“Take a seat,” I suggest, gesturing to the two leather armchairs across from my desk.
“I’m good standing, thanks.”
I frown and lean forward, resting my forearms on the edge of my desk. Collins is holding a piece of paper against her pencil skirt, but I can’t read what it says from here.
“I called you over the weekend.”
As soon as the words are out, I regret them. That’s not how I meant to start this conversation—with accusations. But I do want her to know that Itriedto have this conversation sooner. That I didn’t have agreatweekend, that I had a torturous one.
She doesn’t scowl. She doesn’t smile either. “I only answer personal calls on the weekend.”
“Itwasa personal call, Collins.”
“From my boss, who must have gotten my cell number from the company directory.”
I clear my throat. “Well, I wasn’tcallingabout work. I was calling about …” The wordbabywon’t come out. “Will you please sit down?”
I don’t want to talk about this at work. In my office, which used to be my dad’s office, feeling like a slimeball who’s hiding an affair from his wife or something. But I can’t act normal all day while she’s sitting a dozen feet away. Can’t leave things like this for a second longer.
She doesn’t look thrilled about it, but Collins sits. Perches on the very edge of the cushion again, but she sits.