So, she told him about Connor Sutton’s speech . . . repeated it as close to word for word as she could. Then she explained how his words had stayed with her and made it impossible for her to watch Mr. Svete belittle Mrs. Tellier.
“She didn’t stand up for you?” he asked with surprised outrage. “She just let you get fired?”
“I didn’t want her to. She’s almost seventy, Whitney. And she has people who rely on her. I can find another job. Where would she go?”
“I like Mrs. Tellier.”
“I do too.”
Eyes too solemn for someone his age, Whitney met Angelina’s gaze. “We could find her a new job.”
You mean after I find one for myself? How did I luck out and get such a good kid? “We could sure try.” She straightened off the railing. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. What do you say we go out to lunch?”
He perked up. “To celebrate our freedom.”
“Our freedom,” she echoed his words. Was that what Mr. Svete had given her? It felt scarier than that.
Her son didn’t look afraid, though. He looked happy. Happier than he’d looked in a while. She smiled and ruffled his hair. He was right—everything was going to be okay.
First, lunch.
Then a hot bath, early pajamas, and some mind-numbing movie binging—hopefully with a huge bowl of popcorn and this kid at my side.
Tomorrow is a whole new day.
I’ll shine then.
Chapter Five
Early the next day Connor was in his office in New York City, kicking his own ass in a game of darts. Having an office had never been a goal for him, but everyone in his family now had one. Claire said having it lent him a level of credibility. No one needed to know the filing cabinets were empty or that his secretary spent her time writing romance novels rather than doing any actual work. Like everything else in his life, she was a prop he tolerated.
And thankfully, she was happily married. It kept things easy between them.
He was feeling restless. He’d spent the night thinking about a woman he told himself he’d be better off forgetting. He couldn’t shake the look that had entered Angelina’s eyes when he’d asked her if things were really that bad where she worked.
I should have done more.
But what?
He headed out to his secretary’s desk. “Kimmie.”
She looked up in surprise. “Yes, Mr. Sutton?”
“I need your honest opinion of my badass impression.”
She smiled and closed her laptop. “Sure. Is this for a new role?”
“You could say that. Promise not to laugh, though. I can’t break character.”
With a wave of her hand over her face, she erased her smile. “No laughing, okay. I’m ready.”
Connor turned away, did a few facial exercises, then shot for the same expression he’d held to the day before. He channeled his inner Bradford and stared down the petite brunette with purple-rimmed glasses. “How long have you worked here, Kimmie?” He shook his head. A real badass wouldn’t use her first name. “Mrs.—Mrs.—what’s your last name again?”
“Sanchez. My name is Kim Sanchez. Same as the day you hired me. And it has been almost a year.” She didn’t even crack a smile. Damn she was good.
“Do you think you’re funny?” he demanded.
Her eyes twinkled with humor. “No, sir.”
He motioned toward his office. “Hold my calls. My morning is back-to-back meetings. Unless it’s the president himself, take a message.”
“You have meetings? Did I miss something?” she asked.
“Of course not.” He chuckled, then narrowed his eyes at her. “Focus. If you didn’t know me and I looked at you like this would you think I’m an asshole or dangerous and mysterious?”
She tapped a finger on her chin. “When I first met my husband he used to do this thing with his hand.” She stood up and pushed her jacket aside to rest her hand on the belt of her slacks. “I thought it was sexy in a dangerous way.”
Connor mirrored her stance. “Like this?”
“Slower. Like you’re reaching for a gun you haven’t decided if you need to use yet.”
He shook his arm out, then brought his hand to his hip again, slower.
“That’s it,” she exclaimed. “Want my honest opinion?”
He threw both hands up in the air. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I love that about you.” She smiled. “If you’re really trying to look dangerous you shouldn’t bound into a room. When I picture a badass, I imagine someone with tense, abrupt movements. Your expression works for me, but your body still says relaxed and happy.”
Connor flexed his shoulders then walked to the door of his office again. “Okay, take two.” He spun on his heel, narrowed his eyes, and walked toward Kimmie’s desk in a deliberate, slow fashion. When he came to a stop, he brought his hand to his hip and stared her down.
“Oh, that’s good,” she exclaimed. “You’ve got it.”
The outer door of her office opened and Bradford walked in. Slow and tense. Coiled like a snake about to strike. Connor nodded rather than offering his more enthusiastic greeting.
“We need to talk,” Bradford said in a terse tone.
Kimmie clapped. “Is he helping with your character study? Good choice! Yes, copy those mannerisms and you’ll nail badass.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Bradford said with no humor. “Am I interrupting?”
“No, no,” Connor assured him. “Bradford this is my secretary, Kimmie. Kimmie, this is Bradford—Do you have a last name?”
“I do,” he replied but didn’t offer it up.
Connor thumbed at Bradford. “Coolest guy I know.”
“We need to talk,” Bradford said without acknowledging Connor’s compliment.
“See, I have meetings. Hold my calls,” Connor said to Kimmie with a wink and a smile before attempting a stern, serious expression.
“Will do, Mr. Sutton,” she said in a respectful tone as she opened her laptop to likely write another chapter of her novel.
After leading the way into his office, Connor closed the door. “What’s up?”
Bradford walked around the room to study the photos on the wall as well as the shelves full of an eclectic collection of books—classics, nonfiction, biographies, thrillers. “What do you need an office for?” he asked.
Another man might have been insulted, but it was a valid question. Connor went to sit behind his impressive oak desk, then laced his hands behind his head, leaned back in his chair, and propped his feet up on it. “Claire thought it fit my image. Mostly I nap—or read. It was a good place to memorize my lines.”
He scanned the photos without commenting on any. “Your instincts about the headmaster at Reemsly were spot-on. On the surface his record and reputation are spotless. When I dug deeper, things got murkier. Since he joined the school, the administration has undergone several major turnovers. Anyone who questions him is instantly let go. Everyone in the finance department is fresh from college. I can’t imagine they know how much money has come in or gone out since he took over.”