The back door was still ajar, and I entered, scanning the house for Sir. I had a sudden need for a hug. He was curled up on the red throw right where I’d left him. I picked him up and he must have sensed my distress because he purred and rubbed the top of his head against my chin. I felt instantly better and hoped that in light of what had happened, Nick didn’t change his mind about letting me keep my furry friend.
* * *
I didn’t sleep well that night. An intense pair of hazel eyes dominated my dreams. An image of Nick driving us somewhere, a formal event with him in a tuxedo and me in a gown, and we were laughing. I was happy. And then crash.
I jolted awake, sweaty and panicked with my heart racing in my chest and Nick’s name on my lips. I knew it was my unconscious trying to figure out what had happened to Nick Daire. Sure, I knew it wasn’t my concern, but that had never stopped me from trying to help a person in need before, and I doubted it would do so now.
Of course, it’s a lot easier to help a person who actually wants you to help them rather than a person who is closed off in his house. A person who refuses to acknowledge your existence even when you stand in the middle of your back patio for hours on end with your new easel and canvas, painting the black-and-white cat sprawled on the limb of a lemon tree, looking very much like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, except being more formal with his tuxedo coloring.
Yes, even Sir making himself at home on the grounds of Daire’s estate could not draw the man out. He didn’t even send one of the Guzmans or Jackson to deliver a note or to speak to me on his behalf. I wondered if I should turn it around and send him a note. If so, what would it say?
Every time I got the prickly feeling that someone was watching me, I was doomed for disappointment when I surreptitiously checked the windows and saw no curtain twitch. It was all in my mind. I was being one hundred percent ignored and I didn’t like it, not one little bit.
Even more irksome, there was no note attached to my door when I headed out for work on Monday. I’d played music, quite loudly, after nine the night before. I let Sir come and go, leaving my door open, and I even jumped in the hot tub. And what did I hear after all of this bad behavior? Crickets.
It was maddening. I was bummed out and a tad surly when I arrived for work on Monday morning. Nyah greeted me with a big smile and a thank-you for the happy hour, as did the rest of the staff, and it occurred to me that I was beginning to consider them my friends. That helped. So what if my landlord didn’t like me, my crew did.
I tried to catch Soph before the weekly meeting, but she was mobbed by other staff. I had known when I took the job that her business was all-consuming. It shouldn’t have hurt that she had no time for me. I was a grown-up, after all, but still, I felt as if once she’d gotten me to take the job and move here, I’d been cut loose in a sink-or-swim sort of way. Honestly, it stung.
But now that I’d met Nick Daire, she really had some serious explaining to do. Like, what happened to him that he was in a wheelchair? And why had they let me believe he was an old coot when he was clearly the hottest man alive?
We gathered in the big meeting room for an update on all of our projects. I was still learning our client roster and what projects we had in the queue, so I was caught off guard when Miguel asked me for a status update on the Schneider account.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Who?”
“Schneider,” Miguel said. “You know, as in Schneider Pretzels. They’re one of our biggest clients.”
I blinked. “I didn’t realize they were ours.” In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have admitted this out loud in front of the entire staff.
Miguel frowned. Sophie bit her lip, which was her go-to anxious gesture. I could feel the eyes of the rest of the staff on me, which were sympathetic, well, all except for one. Carson West.
“Surely, you’ve been in touch with them,” Miguel said. “They want us to design all new packaging. It was one of the projects Carson delivered to you on your first day here. I’d hoped to see the creative brief by now.”
And just like that, my plans for the day and quite probably the night went right down the toilet. Carson. I hadn’t gotten anything about the Schneider account from him, but I couldn’t say that without it becoming a he said/she said situation, which had the potential of causing a very unpleasant scene.
Carson had been here for years while I’d been here mere weeks. So far, I was successfully building a strong rapport with my team, and I didn’t want to jeopardize it by being perceived as a supervisor who blamed others when things went wrong, even in this case, where it was definitely Carson’s fault that I hadn’t been in the loop about the Schneider account.
I smacked my forehead, overly dramatic, and said, “Of course, I’ve been working with them. Sorry. My caffeine hasn’t kicked in yet. I’ve got meetings all day today. Would tomorrow morning be all right for me to catch you up on the account?”
Sophie visibly relaxed while Miguel looked a tad less grumpy. “It’s later than I would like, but sure, ten o’clock.”
“Don’t we have a conference call with Bravo Pianos at that time?” Booker asked me. I stared at him. I didn’t have a meeting on my calendar for Tuesday morning. What was he up to? He glanced back at Miguel. “You’d better make it midafternoon in case our meeting runs late. Mr. Bravo can be very exacting.”
If it weren’t totally inappropriate in the workplace, I might have kissed Booker on the mouth. We didn’t have a meeting; he was just trying to buy me more time. I nodded. “You’re right. Good plan.”
Miguel glanced between us. “Fine. Two then.”
“Looking forward to it,” I lied. The tension between Miguel and Sophie visibly eased. Crisis averted, for now.
I didn’t have to look at him to know that Carson was smirking. I would bet my favorite pair of Magalli boots that he’d been waiting for just this moment. What an asshat. At least now I had a heads-up and could find out what other projects he’d neglected to mention to me.
“I’m sure Annabelle’s been too busy wooing her brand-new client to think too much about pretzels,” Carson said. “Isn’t that right, Annabelle?”
He turned to me. His sandy hair flopped perfectly over his forehead, and I suspected a lot of product had been employed to make it seem so effortless. Had I really thought he was handsome when I’d first met him? Now I noticed that his face was too thin, his lips had a cruel twist, and his eyes held no warmth, just cold calculation.
“I’m sorry?” I asked. I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Oh, don’t be so modest,” he said. “You told me the other day, when you were late getting in because of an early meeting, that you were bringing in a huge account. Don’t leave us in suspense!”