Page 76 of The Temporary Fiancée
The day startsto drag after the sales meeting. Olivia is busy picking up lunch, and has stopped responding to my increasingly sexual texts, which, if anything, has me even more frustrated.
I can’t stop wondering where she was when she typed each of her responses. What she was doing. What kind of sounds she was making.
It’s making my workday… difficult, to say the least.
At around two in the afternoon, I’m sitting behind my desk, desperately trying to force my eyes to focus on my computer screen. There’s a sales report open for all of the European locations of Eastwood hotels, and there’s apparently something here that requires my immediate attention, but all of the numbers just keep sliding down the screen.
Which isn’t good, because I have at least four more action items to take care of before I leave for the night. At this rate, I’ll be here until one in the morning.
And still, all I can think about is Olivia.
I pull out my phone to check my texts again, hoping that she’ll have replied. As I start to unlock it, there’s a knock on my office door, startling me.
I look up and clear my throat. “Come in.”
It’s my assistant, Marjorie, a woman in her forties who my father hired a few years ago. She opens the door, then stands to the side to usher Olivia inside. She gives me a bright smile when she sees me, then holds up a bundle of takeout boxes.
“Your fiancé is here to see you, Mr. Eastwood,” Marjorie says primly. When Olivia steps inside, she closes the door behind her, shooting me a brief wink and a smile.
Olivia beams at me, holding up the takeout. I catch a whiff of fried food. “Hi.”
“Olivia?”
“I brought you Chinese food,” she says. “Hope that sounds good to you.”
I blink, taken aback. I never asked her to bring me lunch; I only said I wouldn’t be able to take a break for it. I’m not used to being taken care of like this. Usually, I’d either skip lunch or, if I was really hungry, order in myself. I don’t even ask Marjorie to take care of these kinds of basic things for me.
But it’s pleasant, the idea that she thought of me. It makes me feel warm.
“Yeah,” I say, reaching for the bags. “That’s great.”
“Let me know if I screwed up your order. I was mostly guessing.”
I pull boxes out of the plastic bags one by one. It looks like Olivia got kung pao chicken, lo mein, egg rolls… there’s enough food here to feed an entire boardroom full of people.
I give Olivia a sideways glance. “Are you sure you meant to order four entrees?”
“Well, I couldn’t decide,” she sighs. “And I wanted to make sure I got what you wanted, so I just…”
“Asked for the entire menu?”
She shrugs, smiling. “Only part of it.”
“Thank you,” I say, meeting her gaze. “Seriously. I wasnotgoing to make it through this workday without some hot food.”
“Glad I could help.” She taps the surface of the table, then turns back toward the door. “Let me know when you’re?—”
“Hey, wait,” I protest. “You’re leaving?”
She pauses, halfway across my office, and looks over her shoulder. “Well… yeah. I was just going to bring you some food and then head back to the penthouse.”
“But you brought me enough food for five people.” I gesture to the leather chair beside my desk. “Come on. You came all the way here. You might as well join me for lunch.”
She hesitates for only a second before returning to my desk, grinning. “Only if I can snag a few of those egg rolls.”
“Please, by all means.”
The two of us sit at the corner of my desk, talking and laughing as we eat. She quickly lays claim to the egg rolls, though she agrees to give me a couple of them in exchange for a few bites of lo mein.
